Page 35 of Love at First Sight

The cab pulls up outside a grand stone building with a water fountain in front.

I pay and tell the driver thanks. I don’t know where I’m going, which part of the building I need to be in, but I stride towards the biggest door at the front, assuming it’s some sort of reception and I’ll be directed accordingly.

‘Hello,’ I say, sounding sharp enough that the receptionist looks alarmed.

I cough, take a breath, and remind myself she’s my key to getting in, so I had better be nicer.

‘Sorry,’ I say, forcing a laugh. ‘God, I sounded crazy then, didn’t I?

Sorry. It’s one of those days. I’m here to see Cal, up in Health and Safety?

He’s dealing with my community project, Stray Kids. ’

The woman considers this and then taps on her computer.

‘Calvin Lopez?’

I pull a face. ‘Yes? I think? I don’t actually remember his surname.’

‘Calvin Lopez, Health and Safety manager. I think that must be him. Let me ring up. Who shall I say is here?’

I tap the desk nervously, considering a lie. Will he come down if he knows it’s me?

‘Jessie,’ I say. Then I add: ‘He’s expecting me.’

I try not to look too eager as the receptionist places a phone call, holds for ages, gets passed around several people and then murmurs, ‘Hmmm, yes, I see, okay, thank you.’

‘Apparently,’ she says, after hanging up, ‘Calvin Lopez isn’t in the office today. He’s on leave.’

‘Right,’ I say, not believing her. He’s hiding from me. ‘Are you sure?’

She blinks.

‘Yes?’ she replies, sensing a trap, I assume. ‘That’s what his line manager told me.’

‘Can you tell me how long he’ll be on leave?’ I ask, and the receptionist looks torn. There’s a flicker of doubt in her face, like she can tell I really want to know – need to know – but also wants to remain professional. I decide to take a chance, and tell her the truth.

‘We kind of had a thing,’ I say, putting it all out there.

‘Almost. This was before I knew he was affiliated with my project. I had no idea he’d be involved, if you can believe that.

It’s all been a series of very odd coincidences.

I turned him down, in the end, and now I’ve been told I’ve failed my Health and Safety assessment for a project that’s this close’ – I hold up two fingers an inch apart – ‘from opening. And I can’t help but feel like he’s got something to do with that.

It’s just too …’ I search for the word, but it turns out I don’t need it.

‘Look,’ she says. ‘All I got told on the phone is that he took an immediate leave of absence for “personal reasons”. He’ll be gone a few weeks.

I think he’s gone to Spain. I’m sorry for your project, but for what it’s worth that email wouldn’t have come from Cal, it would have come from his line manager, who’s the person I spoke to on the phone.

I know her – she’s really friendly and super invested in what she does.

She won’t have failed you nefariously. If you talk to her, she’ll help you get it right and you might still meet your opening deadline.

Do you want me to ask her to come down? Or to make an appointment? ’

I sigh.

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘An appointment would be good.’

I call India when I’m back outside, mortified by my behaviour in the last ten minutes.

‘I half want to go back and correct myself for misspeaking, take back the suggestion Cal had anything to do with this. I’m so embarrassed, India. I can feel my cheeks burning.’

‘Oh babe,’ she says. ‘You’re passionate about it! You were being a mama bear over your baby! Anyone can understand that!’

‘Yeah,’ I say, half-heartedly.

‘If I can just say …’ India starts, sounding trepidatious. I’m pretty sure I know what she’s going to say before she says it.

‘You already are just saying ,’ I tell her. ‘So go on.’

‘You’re being very quick to hand over your power to other people.

On some level, it’s almost like you thought you deserved to fail your Health and Safety check, because your dream can’t really be happening, can’t really be coming true.

So it would have been a perfect excuse if Cal had foiled it all, wouldn’t it? ’

‘Oh god,’ I say. ‘I’m pathetic, aren’t I? You’re right. If Cal stopped it from happening, I wouldn’t have to risk failing at it …’

‘Maybe that’s why you’ve still not properly told Ali it’s actually happening?’ India suggests. ‘And maybe …’

‘I should?’ I supply. ‘Urgh! You’re so annoying when you’re right!’

‘I’ve been told I’m annoying even when I’m wrong,’ India laughs.

‘You won’t believe what I saw Ali and Thom doing earlier,’ I say. ‘They were at it doggy style on the stairs. I saw Thom’s knob and everything!’

‘No!’ India squeals. ‘Really?! God, those two. It’s the epitome of a love-hate relationship.

And that makes me even angrier she’s put the kibosh on you and Cal.

You need to go over there before picking up Henry and tell her about Stray Kids.

Then she’ll have a minute to mull it over before you’re back with him.

Plus, if she just got laid, you might find her more amenable to what you have to say. ’

‘I feel like she’s still mad at me …’ I start, but India shuts me down.

‘Mad at you for nothing, might I remind you! Now come on. Take back your power, don’t let Cal or Ali or some stupid Health and Safety form stop you from fulfilling your destiny as the best goddamn outdoor-events-for-kids leader Stoke Newington has ever seen! Go!’

And with that, I power-walk back to Ali’s house, rehearsing what I’m going to say over and over again in my head.

I knock at the front door as a way to announce myself, but still use my key to get in.

I never feel weird about going into the house when it’s Henry-related, but when it’s not there’s a strange chasm between what I normally do and what is polite.

Plus, if what happened earlier is anything to go by, I should probably always knock.

As I walk through the hallway, Ali yells from the living room, ‘In here!’

She’s curled up on the love seat with a script and her laptop, in little shorts and a baggy sweatshirt like she’s been styled for a Nancy Meyers movie. She even has a steaming cup of herbal tea beside her.

‘Thanks for letting me come over before I get Henry,’ I say, and she gestures to the sofa opposite.

‘Sure,’ she says. ‘What can I do for you?’

You wouldn’t think that an hour and a half ago I’d seen her half naked with her ex-husband. Neither of us addresses it, neither of us pauses to let the other know yes, that happened, and no, we don’t need to talk about it . We just glide over it like a pair of professional skaters.

‘I wanted to update you on the status of Stray Kids,’ I say, and she furrows her brow.

‘Stray Kids?’ she says. ‘What’s that?’

Sometimes Ali plays dumb as a power move.

She’ll act like she doesn’t know what this important-to-you thing is and makes you explain it to her again, so that you realise you shouldn’t have bothered her with it without her having to say it.

I know from experience that the very worst way to handle that is to remind her that she does know what you’re on about.

You have to play along, pander to her, so it’s clear you understand she runs the show.

‘Stray Kids,’ I say, trying not to sound in the least bit annoyed, ‘is my outdoor learning programme. I got funding for it from the council. It’s where kids can come to a big open park and play without adult intervention, as a way to encourage life skills like resilience, trust in their own decision-making, that sort of thing. ’

‘Oh,’ says Ali sternly. ‘I thought you decided not to pursue that.’

I tilt my head, like I’m considering her point.

‘Hmmm,’ I say. ‘I know we talked about how it might affect my looking after Henry, but that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.

The project is going ahead, in my own time, outside of what I do for you.

We’re due to open …’ I trail off, because with the Health and Safety assessment issues, that’s in the air now.

‘Soon,’ I settle on. ‘But as a courtesy, I wanted to sit down and reassure you, and just keep you in the picture.’

Ali shakes her head. ‘I think you’ve misunderstood,’ she says. ‘It wasn’t a suggestion. You can’t do it. Henry has to be your sole focus.’

She smiles, like of course I understand that the matter is now settled.

‘It’s all gone a bit far for turning back now,’ I say.

‘Adverts are going out across social media and end-of-term school bulletins next week, and we’ve just had an offer to pay for an advert on the back wall of the pub – you know the one they rent out to local artists? We’re advertising there, too.’

‘I’m sorry,’ says Ali, not sounding sorry at all. ‘But my answer is no.’

‘But …’ I say, wanting to put my foot down and explain that I’m not asking for anything, I’m telling her.

Her phone rings, and she looks down to see who it is. ‘My agent,’ she says, reaching for it. ‘Thanks for stopping by, Jessie.’

Before I can say anything, she’s answered the call with a cloying, cooing ‘Alfred, darling, how are you?’ and tottered off to the garden to continue her Nancy Meyers movie cosplay.

I am stunned at how obtuse she’s capable of being, how utterly single-minded.

I might work for Ali, but she doesn’t run the actual world.

This isn’t fair. She can’t treat me like this!

Picking up Henry is, as always, a balm. He’s sticky from sunscreen and an afternoon spent mostly outside, one of several friends who came to play in Rex’s back garden.