Page 24 of Falling for You

‘Forty!’ I nearly drop my beer.

Despite myself, my heart lifts slightly.

What if she’s there? What if it really is going to be that easy?

‘And they’ve sent their phone numbers. Right,’ he pulls his long legs up to his chest, ‘you’re going to pick one and go on a date tonight. We can do a double date, it’ll be fun.’

‘No.’

‘If you don’t pick, I’m going to pick for you.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘So, what did this girl look like?’ he says, narrowing his eyes as he scrolls freely through my phone. ‘I’ll whittle it down.’

‘Urgh. I don’t know.’ I push my thumb and forefinger against my forehead. ‘Do we have to do this?’

‘Yes. What was her ethnicity?’

‘White.’

‘Hair colour?’

‘Dark.’

‘Long or short hair?’

‘Long.’

‘Right …’ He swigs his beer. ‘That narrows it down. You have fifteen women to pick from. How old do you think she was? Was she older than sixty?’

‘No!’

‘Okay … that takes out you, and you …’

‘I need another beer.’ I go to get up when the TV erupts and the screen is filled with Marcus Rashford, his arms in the air towards the crowd and his teammates leaping on his back, jostling him with animalistic joy.

‘I told you he was good,’ Stevie says knowingly. I give him a shove as I take his empty beer and walk towards the fridge.

‘Do you want to pick her or shall I?’ Stevie calls after me. ‘Ohh … she looks nice. I think she’s my favourite.’

‘Well, let me look,’ I say, kicking the fridge door shut and grabbing the bottle opener. ‘She may actually be there.’

‘You are into this!’ Stevie says triumphantly. ‘God, you’re such a romantic it’s sickening.’

I hand him a beer as he turns the phone to me. ‘Contestant number one, Jane.’

I study the picture. It’s a woman who looks roughly the same age as me with curly hair and lots of eyeliner.

‘That’s not her,’ I say. ‘She didn’t have curly hair.’

‘She could have straightened it.’

I roll my eyes. ‘Fine.’

‘Contestant number two, Hayley.’

He turns the phone towards me again and I swat it away. ‘Stevie, I don’t want to sit through each girl. She’s not going to be there, and even if she is I won’t recognise her. She was wearing a mask and it was dark …’

‘Okay, okay,’ Stevie says in a horrible, superior voice. ‘Calm down. You don’t have to do it.’

I feel a wave of relief as I sink into the back of the sofa.

‘Thank you.’

‘I’ll choose for you.’

‘Stevie!’

‘Jane is free tonight, I’ll ask her to meet us at Simmons at nine and see if Jason is free. This is going to be fun.’

I slug my beer.

I instinctively feel it won’t be.

Two hours later and I’m sat in a bar opposite Stevie, who has almost finished his second Heineken and we only arrived twenty minutes ago.

Simmons is small and dark, with high tables and loud bartenders, shaking cocktails over their shoulders and slamming shots down on the sticky bar.

The room is cast in blue light, and the walls are covered in different posters.

‘Is this what life is normally like for you in London, then?’ I ask. Stevie looks up from his phone. He’s been watching the Formula One highlights since we arrived.

‘What do you mean?’

I pick up my beer and gesture to our surroundings. ‘How many dates have you brought here?’

He puts his phone down, raising his eyebrows. ‘Are you judging me?’

I laugh. ‘No! If anything, I’m jealous.’

‘So, you can be honest with me. How much are you hoping that tonight is this Bat Girl that you keep talking about?’

‘I do not keep talking about her,’ I mutter into my pint.

‘You do in your sleep.’

‘Shut up.’

‘Our walls are thin.’

‘You’re telling me!’ I guffaw and Stevie gives me a wicked grin.

I take a swig of beer. ‘It isn’t her. I’d recognise her from the pictures.’

Stevie huffs at me. ‘Wasn’t she wearing a mask?’

‘Yes, but …’

‘Anyway,’ he waves his hand at me, ‘so what if it isn’t her? Jane might be really nice.’

‘I’m sure she will be.’

Stevie rolls his eyes at me. ‘God, you’re impossible. Oh! There’s Jason.’

I peer round and spot a burly, long-haired man in a T-shirt, looking around the bar. Stevie walks over, leaving me with my beer.

I pick up my phone and check my messages.

Jane and I had been messaging to arrange meeting here, so I’m hoping she’ll text me when she arrives.

With any luck, she may be pleasantly surprised by how I look in real life versus that terrible photo of me that Brian took in the office. If she arrives at all, that is.

Or she arrives, sees me, and then leaves.

God, what am I even doing here? Why did I let Stevie talk me into this? Why—

‘Nate?’

I look up from my phone and spot Jane. I recognise her immediately from her photo. She has bright eyes, curly hair and a big, toothy smile. She looks lovely, but she’s not Bat Girl.

‘Hey,’ I say, getting to my feet. ‘Jane?’

Do I hug her? Or is that weird? Shake her hand? Wave? No, hug. I should hug. It would be rude not to hug. Just hug her, for God’s sake.

She nods, the opportunity for me to hug her naturally sailing past us.

I’m glad Stevie wasn’t here to witness that.

‘Would you like a drink?’ I ask, moving towards the bar. Jane nods and follows.

‘I appreciate you coming,’ I say. ‘It’s a bit of a weird one, isn’t it? Meeting like this.’

I feel a light spasm of alarm as the thought dawns on me. Why is she here when the advert clearly said I was looking for someone, and she knows it’s not her?

I flag down the bartender and order a beer, and then let Jane order herself a glass of white wine.

Maybe she met someone at the party like I did but was too drunk to remember.

‘So,’ I turn to her, ‘did you enjoy the party?’

‘What party?’

I keep the smile on my face. ‘The Halloween party? The masquerade ball?’

She frowns, taking her glass of wine from the bartender. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Oh.’

‘My friend said you put an ad online saying you wanted to go on a date. She applied for me.’

Ah. ‘Oh,’ I say. ‘Right.’

‘I thought it would be fun.’ She smiles at me. ‘A different way to meet someone, you know?’

‘Sure,’ I nod, taking a sip of my beer.

Come on, Nate. You’re on a date with a cute girl. You knew it wouldn’t be Bat Girl, it’s impossible you’ll ever see her again. Just let it go.

The next day I wake up with a new sense of purpose.

Jane and I had a nice enough time, but we left after an hour or so of polite small talk and a brief hug and I was back at the flat by eleven.

Stevie disappeared with Jason, and I didn’t hear him come in until the early hours of this morning.

But when I wake up in my boxroom, with a fresh, clear Sunday stretching out in front of me, I know that I can finally do what I came to London to do.

Today is the day I’m going to go and find my Aunt Tell. Speak to her about Mom and convince her to come back to New York to visit.

I get up, take a shower and start to plan my journey down to Epping. The sky is a bright, powder blue and the sun is blazing out from behind the clouds, but there’s a crisp chill in the air. I wrap a scarf round my neck and step out of the front door.

My mom is a New Yorker through and through. She grew up outside of Manhattan with just her mom and sister in a small apartment above a store. She met my dad waiting tables at a restaurant downtown, and they never looked back.

Aunt Tell’s early adult years were spent moving to London to follow her dream of becoming an actress.

She came here when she was twenty-five and has been performing in theatres ever since.

I used to joke with Stevie that he must take after Aunt Tell and I must take after Mom, but he didn’t like that.

I take a train to Epping and emerge from the station onto a suburban street. Taking in a lungful of icy air, I begin my walk to Aunt Tell’s house, my phone shouting directions at me every thirty seconds or so.

If all goes to plan, I should be able to go back to New York by the end of the month.

I’m trying not to think too much about why Aunt Tell has been ignoring my messages and calls for the past six weeks or so.

I’ve sort of put it down to some whimsical idea of all of my emails getting lost in cyberspace or I somehow have her wrong number (even though I totally don’t).

We’ll both just pretend it never happened.

‘Turn right,’ pipes up my phone. ‘Then in four hundred yards, the destination is on your left.’

I look up from my phone, feeling my eyebrows raise as I take in the row of grand houses all sat next to each other like perfect dollhouses. In short, they are all enormous. I can’t believe Aunt Tell lives in a house like this.

I count the numbers on the houses and stop walking as I reach number 30. It’s not quite as big as the house next door, but with its smooth white plaster and crisp black window frames, it’s pretty much the smartest. And still way too big for just one person.

I walk up the drive, noticing her shiny car, and then raise my hand to the ruby-red door. A Christmas wreath is looped round the door knocker, far too early in my opinion, with little fairy lights twinkling around it.

I hold my breath as the knock reverberates through the door. I haven’t seen Aunt Tell in years. She might not even recognise me. I know Mom has said that she sends pictures, but I’ve got no idea what pictures or from how long ago.

The door swings open and my eyes widen as they land on Aunt Tell.

She is a small woman, with honey-blonde hair curled above her head in a large quiff.

Her eyes are shadowed with dark make-up and her thin lips are coated in a shimmering pale pink.

She’s wearing a floral dress and an eccentric scarf.

As soon as she sees me, her mouth falls open like she’s seen a ghost, and before I have time to recite the lines I had rehearsed on my way over, I’m pulled into a hug.

‘Oh Nathaniel!’ she cries, clasping my head and rocking me from side to side. ‘It is so good to see you.’

I shuffle slightly in my seat, wating for Aunt Tell to reappear with the coffee. I’m perched in a large armchair which has a golden trim and is upholstered with a rich purple velvet. It looks like a chair that’s there for decoration rather than sitting on. But she insisted.

After what felt like hours, Aunt Tell finally let me go and bustled straight into her house, commanding me to follow.

Her hallway had black and white squared tiles, a glittering chandelier and a sweeping wooden staircase.

On the walls were photos of her, looking furious or gobsmacked, mid-scene in various acting roles.

The odd picture had her clutching a bouquet of flowers, one hand to her heart, beaming at an adoring audience.

I noticed there weren’t any pictures of us anywhere.

Aunt Tell has never been married or had any children.

We are the only family she has, and it’s like we don’t exist.

Which makes sense, considering she’s been ignoring me for the past six weeks.

But she seems so happy to see me! She hardly greeted me like someone she was trying to avoid.

‘Here we are!’ she coos, placing two china mugs down on golden coasters and beaming at me. She is practically glowing.

‘Great,’ I say. ‘Thank you. Sorry for just dropping in like this, I tried to call, but …’

But you never answered.

‘It’s a lovely surprise!’ she says at once, placing her hands on her lap and staring at me. Her eyes are wide and, unlike Stevie, her American accent is as strong as mine, even though she’s lived in the UK for half of her life.

I smile, taking a sip of my coffee.

This is the part where I ask Aunt Tell straight whether she can come back to New York, say how Mom isn’t doing so good and that she misses her. How seeing her will do Mom the world of good. But when I look up at Aunt Tell’s hopeful face, something stops me.

‘My goodness,’ she sighs. ‘I haven’t seen you since you were yay high.’ She holds up an arm. ‘I can’t believe this handsome man sat in front of me is my little Nathaniel. I say all of your names, you know. Right before I go on stage each night, I bless each of you.’

I pause, unsure of what to say.

‘At the theatre!’ she continues, reading my silence. ‘When I have a show! Before I go on I say, “God bless Linda, Paul, Nathaniel and Stevie. God bless them all.”’

‘Oh,’ I say, realising that I couldn’t stay silent a second time. ‘That’s nice.’

‘It helps keep me calm, thinking of all of your faces.’ She smiles, picking up her coffee cup. ‘I’ve got a show tonight – you should come!’

She leans forward excitedly.

‘Oh,’ I say. ‘I can’t stay. Sorry, I—’

‘I’m playing Beth in Paula’s Race Car at the Pheasant,’ she says, as if I haven’t spoken at all. ‘It’s the other side of town and it’s terrific fun. We’re halfway through a six-month run.’

‘Congratulations,’ I say. ‘I was actually hoping to speak to you about Mom.’ I look at her steadily, ready to catch a reaction, but her beaming expression stays put. ‘I was wondering if you had plans to visit her anytime soon.’

‘Visit her?’ She blinks her heavy eyelashes. ‘Back in New York?’

‘Yeah.’ I sip my coffee. ‘I know she’d love to see you.’

‘And I’d love to see her!’ she cries, her hand flinging to her chest. ‘My darling sister.’

I watch her, my mind scrambling to work out what she means.

‘Great!’ I say after a pause. ‘Well, I’m planning to go back to New York soon. I’m only here for a few months, so can I tell Mom that you’ll be in touch to arrange a visit soon?’ I try and keep my eye contact with her, but she looks away and starts busying herself with the empty coffee mugs.

‘Of course! Now, I’m sorry, Nathaniel, but I must ask you to go. I need to get ready for my show. But this was such a wonderful surprise – please come and visit me again soon.’

And before I know it, I’m shooed out of the front door back onto the streets of Epping.

‘But you’ll call Mom?’ I blurt, moments before she shuts the door.

‘Of course I will, darling! See you soon!’

And as the door slams, I’m left with three thoughts.

She must be the weirdest woman I’ve ever met. I need to apologise to Stevie for comparing him to her. She’s lying.