Page 21 of Love at First Sight

We cross the road in heavy silence, and whilst we wait Cal finally says, ‘I know this is weird.’

My eyebrows knit together. ‘Weird?’ I repeat. I wave a hand. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’m not. Let’s just get this over with.’

The bus approaches and I put my arm out to signal that we want it to stop. Cal follows me as I tap my phone to pay and climb the steps to the top deck. There’s only one double seat available, and we both say at exactly the same time: ‘After you.’

I slide into the window side and Cal sits down next to me. Then, because I can’t hold it in any longer, I say, ‘Look. I have to ask. What happened that Sunday—’

‘I know,’ Cal says, before I can finish.

‘What do you know?’ I press.

‘That I’ve made a mess of everything,’ he says, and I scoff.

‘I don’t feel sorry for you,’ I tell him.

‘That’s not what I mean,’ he counters, voice small.

‘Then what do you mean?’

It’s interesting, having to keep our volume down on a busy bus. We’re almost hissing at one another, talking through lips that barely move.

‘I don’t want you to think that the day we spent together didn’t mean anything …

’ Cal whispers. ‘And I don’t want you to think I’m some arsehole who goes around asking women in fire safety breaches if they want to spend the day together.

Because I’m not. And I don’t want you to think I’m not a respectful man, because I am, all evidence to the contrary.

It’s just …’ He closes his eyes and lets out a big breath.

‘Have you ever ordered the spaghetti, and then you see someone with the burger and you think, Damn, that looks good too ?’

‘I don’t think this is making the point you want it to make,’ I say, scowling. ‘I’m a burger?’

‘No! God, I’m messing this up again. I like Ali.

I do. She’s mad and crazy and lives this whole other type of life to me, and after my last relationship, where it was all so serious in the end, being with Ali is, like, this huge relief, you know?

It was raining and miserable and really hard for a good couple of years, and then I met Ali and the sun came out. ’

‘Good for you,’ I say, and I sound petulant.

‘But that day with you, it was like … autumn.’

I roll my eyes. ‘Your analogies are properly shit.’

‘Autumn is good,’ Cal insists. ‘Everyone thinks the height of summer is the best bit of life, but anyone can have fun in the sun if they try hard enough. Autumn is cosy, and reflective, and you have to make the most of the warmer days and hunker down on the colder ones. You have to really like the person you’re with in autumn, because winter can be long.

And … yeah, okay, this metaphor probably needs a lot of work, you’re right, but it’s really important to me that you get it: I really did feel something that day, Jessie, and I didn’t mean to mislead anyone, or anything like that.

And I could be really disingenuous and say technically nothing happened, but I probably would have kissed you, when we were dancing.

If Naomi hadn’t been on that wall, with everything that happened, I would have done it. I would have kissed you.’

‘Well. I’m glad you didn’t,’ I say. ‘Men who cheat are cowards. I’m glad you didn’t kiss me. Ours is the next stop.’

Cal goes quiet, digesting what I’ve said.

‘Also,’ I add, because I can’t not. ‘You said that you were going to break up with Ali, and you evidently haven’t, so … that’s double cowardice.’

‘Fair enough,’ he concludes, not bothering to fill in the blanks.

I’m actually quite desperate to know why he hasn’t done what he said he’d do.

Alas, he’s gone mute. I tell him this is our stop and he rings the bell, and I refuse to remember how his hand felt in mine, my head on his chest, eyes closed, heart beating with happiness.

‘Hi!!!!’

Henry launches himself at me and I wrap my arms around him, lifting him up from the ground.

Before I can ask how his morning has been or explain why Ali isn’t here and I am instead, he says, all his words crashing into one: ‘Can-I-stay-for-craft-club-everyone-is-staying-for-craft-club-there’s-a-space-for-me-please! ’

I shake my head comically as I put him back on the ground, our inside-joke way of saying slow down .

Henry laughs, straightens himself up and asks again, ‘Can I go to craft club, Jessie, please ? Please, please, please!’ Then he puts his hands together in a begging motion and bats his eyelashes, because he knows it makes me laugh.

A teacher I don’t know the name of comes over and puts a hand on Henry’s shoulder, explaining, ‘We’re making things for the end-of-term show. Just for the next hour.’

I look to Cal, who shrugs, and so I relent. ‘I’ll be back in an hour, then,’ I say, reaching out to bop Henry’s nose with my pointing finger. ‘What’s the most important thing in the world?’ I ask him.

‘Be kind,’ Henry says.

‘And the second-most important thing in the world?’

‘Have fun. Can I go now?’

I smile. ‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Get gone.’

Back outside the school I’m about to tell Cal he doesn’t have to wait with me, but he speaks first.

‘You’re impressively good with him,’ he says. ‘With Henry.’

To be fair, I know I am, because I respect Henry and so Henry respects me. We get on, and I genuinely like him. He can tell – all kids can tell whether they’re liked or just tolerated, and kids who are liked by their grown-ups blossom.

‘Thank you,’ I say.

‘You let him be himself,’ Cal says. ‘I thought that the night with the Lego, when I first met him. I can see you nurturing loads of kids in the same way. I really hope you look at that funding form, get going on Stray Kids …’

Being mad, and punishing Cal, is tiring.

I don’t want to be cold and angry. I want to be fun, and carefree, and just …

happy. I don’t want to wear life heavily.

I think of Leo’s cheeky wink and clear intentions.

Cal is none of my business – what we had can stay in the past. I can put it down, stop carrying the weight of it if I want to.

I think for my own sanity I should at least try.

‘I haven’t had time yet,’ I say. ‘I haven’t pulled the form out of my bag since you gave it to me. Although I’ve been aware it’s there, the proverbial heart beating under the floorboards.’

‘Because of Ali …?’ he says. Disloyally, I think.

‘I really don’t feel comfortable talking about Ali with you,’ I say, taking a seat on the steps outside the school. I have half a mind to go in search of more coffee, but this hangover – I need stillness. I need to sit. Cal stays standing.

‘That’s fair,’ he says. ‘But I really do feel compelled to be a person who encourages you to at least see if you can get the money. If you can’t, no harm no foul, right? And if we’ve got an hour to kill anyway, we could fill it in together, just to see …’

I really don’t understand this guy’s game.

‘Why do you even care?’ I ask. ‘What’s in it for you?’

‘Call it my apology,’ he replies, gesturing to see if he can take a seat next to me on the steps. I sigh.

‘Okay, fine,’ I say, pulling it out and passing it to him.

I just happened to grab my nannying bag this morning, when I was in a rush, so it’s with me, by chance.

‘I happen to have it right here with me so, whatever. But if I get the funding I don’t owe you anything, okay? This is a chaotic neutral.’

‘Understood,’ Cal says, and he lets one side of his mouth curl up into a smirk, daring to hold my eye until I mirror him and smile too. ‘You’re an idiot,’ I say, light-heartedly, because I don’t know what else to say.

‘Noted,’ he replies. ‘I accept the compliment.’

Cal smooths out the three-page form and I hand him the pen I am also carrying. A nanny’s bag always has pens, tissues, wet wipes, anti-bac, a series of emergency snacks, random Calpol pouches – I am prepared for any and all eventualities.

We go through the basics – name, age, address, phone number, email – with me telling Cal what to put.

He could officially rob me of my identity now.

Then I have to explain the general business idea of Stray Kids, continuing on a blank page if necessary, and outline the financial aspects of it – how it will keep itself funded, if staff will be volunteers or paid, health and safety considerations.

I’ve been thinking about this for two years, so I know the pitch inside out.

It all comes pouring out of me easily, and more than once Cal has to tell me to wait so he can catch up because I’m talking so fast.

‘You’ll get the money,’ Cal says, once we reach the end. ‘Every town or village in the country needs a programme like this. You’re really on to something.’

‘Fingers crossed,’ I reply. ‘I tell myself I’m totally happy being a career nanny, but sometimes I wonder if it’s just Henry’s nanny that I want to be. And he’s not going to need me forever – more’s the pity. So. At least I have this idea percolating in the background.’

‘More than that now,’ Cal says. ‘Once you send this in.’

I nod. ‘I suppose I should say thank you for the nudge.’

‘I suppose you should …’ Cal replies, but he’s joking, trying to be cute.

‘Don’t spoil it,’ I shoot back. ‘I was just starting to think of accepting your apology.’

He pretends to buck up, zipping his mouth shut and throwing away the imaginary key.

‘Much better,’ I say, and he sticks his tongue out at me. We sit in a weird version of companionable silence, listening to the dim chatter of the schoolkids on the other side of the gates, until Cal’s phone rings.

‘Ali!’ he says when he picks up. ‘Shit, sorry – we should have texted. He’s gone into craft club.

We’re literally sat on the steps outside school waiting for him.

’ Cal pulls the phone away from his ear to look at the time and then says, ‘We’ll be back by half past. He’s out in a minute.

Yeah, just talking. Yeah, she is.’ He looks at me when he says this, and it makes me feel self-conscious. ‘Okay,’ he says. ‘Bye.’

‘Just wondering where we were,’ he says, and I nod. Then, before I can say it, he reads my mind and adds, ‘And no, I won’t tell her about the form. It’s none of my business.’

I nod again, satisfied, and can feel something growing in the middle of my chest, something I cannot name, and nor do I wish to.

‘Okay. Thanks,’ I say. Then: ‘So you’re not breaking up with her?’ I shouldn’t ask, but I need to know.

Cal sighs. ‘I am,’ he says. ‘I will.’

I remind myself that it is nothing to do with me, even as I find myself pleased to hear him say it.

I am a horrible person.