Читать книгу In Case You Missed It - Lindsey Kelk - Страница 8

‘Someone’s popular,’ Sumi said on the return from her mission to the loo. On the bar, my phone flashed with unread message after unread message.

‘Turns out a lot of people are bored and on their phones on a Monday night,’ I replied as the ‘welcome home’, ‘let’s get a drink’ and ‘who is this?’ texts flooded in. ‘I don’t even know why I have half these people in my contacts, I never text anyone apart from you, Adrian, Lucy and my sister.’

‘I am honoured,’ she drained her wine glass. ‘Shall we have another drink?’

‘Oh, go on,’ I said, pushing my water away. ‘Which way are the loos?’

‘Downstairs, all the way to the end,’ Sumi replied, already lost in her own phone. ‘Ladies on the left.’

I set off on my mission, checking my latest text as I went. Domino’s Pizza. At last, someone who was truly excited to have me back in the country.

The ladies’ loos were massive, all rose gold fixtures and well-lit mirrors, perfect if your primary reason for being there was taking excellent selfies but if you needed a wee you were bang out of luck. The room was huge but some genius had only installed two toilets, both of which were occupied as I waddled up and down in front of the sinks.

‘Two bloody toilets, what is the bloody point?’ I muttered under my breath, sounding more like my dad by the second.

There was only one thing for it and I was far too close to having an accident to be picky. Besides, we were living in a post-gender world and I was a dying-for-a-wee girl. I scooted out of the women’s toilets with my knees clamped together and cautiously opened the neighbouring door.

‘Is anyone in here?’ I called, poking my head into the gents.

No one was.

Ecstatic, I flung myself into one of the stalls, relieved to see it was spotless. Not as nice as the ladies but at least they had individual toilets with floor-to-ceiling wooden doors and each stall piped in both air freshener and music – both of which, I assumed, would be a bonus in the men’s toilets.

The idea of drinking a glass of water with every alcoholic drink was all well and good but unless you happened to be wearing an adult nappy, it really was a supreme test of bladder control. I pulled my phone out of my pocket to see the screen light up with yet more returned messages. Robot numbers, failed connections and the odd and deeply unflattering, ‘new phone, who dis?’ Nestled in the middle of the mess was one text that screamed with capital letters.

Hi Ros!!! Long time no see but perfect timing??? CALL ME! ASAP!!!!

According to my contacts list, it was from Dan. But who was Dan? And why were they so intent on using every punctuation mark in their phone? Then it dawned on me. Could it be? I leaned back against the white porcelain tank, pressed call and waited for my phone to connect.

‘Ros bloody Reynolds, is it really you?’

‘It is,’ I replied happily. ‘Hello, Danielle.’

‘I can’t believe you’re back,’ she shrieked. ‘This is amazing. Perfect timing, meant to be.’

Danielle and I started out as interns at the same radio station on the same day. We were first-day-of-school friends, joined at the hip and so excited. We took our tea breaks together, went for lunch at the same time, inhaled two-for-a-fiver cocktails at the Wetherspoons across the road, starry-eyed and rosy-cheeked and still so optimistic about our first forays into the job market. At least, we were for the first three months, then we realized we really didn’t have anything in common other than the place we went to work every day. Slowly, we stopped hanging out so much – fewer lunches, far less tea and eventually, zero cocktails – until Danielle left for another job and that was that. She faded into a shadowy existence as nothing more than a Facebook friend and a number in my phone I’d forgotten I even had.

‘I would love to have a proper chat but I’m on a plane and we’re about to take off,’ Danielle interrupted without pausing for breath. ‘We should have a real catch-up when I’m back but I have the most incredible opportunity of all time, I’d be doing it myself but I’m out of town for the next few weeks. PodPad needs a producer basically yesterday and I know you’d be insane at it. Is there any chance, the slightest possible hint of a chance, I might be able to tempt you to come and work for me?’

‘PodPad?’ I repeated. ‘You’re at PodPad?’

‘Babes, I’m running PodPad,’ she laughed. ‘The programming at least.’

I knew PodPad. I turned down a job at PodPad to take the job in DC.

‘That’s amazing,’ I told her, the sound of a politely irritated flight attendant asking her to end her call crackling through my phone’s speaker. ‘I’m so pleased for you.’

‘It’s pretty wonderful,’ she agreed. ‘So, producer job. Are you interested?’

‘Um, I’d love to hear more about it,’ I replied, trying very hard not to sound as desperate as I felt. What if she wanted to know why I’d left? What if she wanted a reference?

‘You’re incredible, this is the most incredible thing that has ever happened,’ she cheered down the phone. Danielle, I remembered, was prone to hyperbole. ‘Can you come in tomorrow?’

‘Yes, absolutely,’ I confirmed, pushing negative thoughts away. ‘Let me know when and where and I’m there.’

I thought back to a chapter of Starting Over I’d read at three a.m. while the foxes behind my shed rogered each other senseless. This is what happened when you stayed positive. Take your time, stop running. Stand still and the clouds will clear, allow life to show you the way.

‘I’m texting you the address, be there at ten tomorrow morning and I’ll love you forever,’ Danielle threatened. ‘I’m so pleased you texted me, Ros. I was just about to offer the job to a complete wanker and you’ve saved my life. Meant to be or what?’

‘Miss, please put away your phone or—’

Three short sharp beeps in my ear declared the call over.

I was officially the first person on the face of the earth who had accidentally sent someone a text message and it had gone right. I made a mental note to buy a lottery ticket on the way home. It had to be my lucky day.

Flushing the loo, I slipped my phone into my back pocket so I could look myself in the eye and pretend I wasn’t the kind of person who reads their phone on the toilet (even though everyone did it, there were many reports on the matter). Pushing against the heavy toilet door with all my weight, I groaned, hoping the added vocalization might somehow make me stronger but it didn’t budge.

‘What do they do in here that they need hermetically sealed cubicles?’ I asked, not really wanting an answer to the question, before hurling myself at the door one more time. It stuck for a second then creaked open, sending me stumbling out into the toilets and—

‘JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.’

I immediately locked eyes with a man using a urinal.

‘OH MY GOD,’ I screamed, covering my face with my hands before remembering I still needed to wash them. Thrusting my arms out in front of me, I closed my eyes instead, stumbling around the gents like a blind zombie.

‘What are you doing?’ the man shouted. ‘Get out!’

‘I’m going, I’m going,’ I promised, still holding out my arms and fumbling my way forward. It seemed foolish to keep my eyes closed now, especially since I’d seen everything, but I had been raised to be polite. And not to use the men’s toilets, but still.

‘Shit,’ he grunted as he zipped up his fly. ‘You made me piss on my shoes.’

I winced, opening my eyes just a crack to find the sink. Sure, I might read my phone on the toilet but I always, always washed my hands.

‘No, really, take your time,’ I heard the man say over the sound of many, many paper towels being dispensed. I purposefully pumped the soap dispenser.

I opened my eyes a crack and saw him rubbing at a dark stain.

‘I’m going to wash my hands,’ I said primly, rinsing my hands. ‘I’m not a monster.’

He looked up but his dark hair was covering most of his face. ‘Says the woman using the men’s toilets.’

‘How dare you assume to know my gender identity,’ I mumbled as I grabbed my own paper towels.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, even if he didn’t sound as though he was. ‘What are your preferred pronouns?’

‘Prefer not to say.’ I clocked the furious set of his jaw before I made a beeline for the door. Dark hair, dark eyes, murderous expression. Got it. ‘Sorry about your shoes.’

Running back up the stairs, I grabbed the fresh glass of wine that was waiting for me and downed half of it in one gulp. Sumi’s eyes opened wide.

‘What happened to you?’ she asked. ‘Did a rat climb out the toilet or something?’

‘Let’s say yes,’ I replied, taking a breath and then going back for the rest of the glass. ‘I’m starving. Why don’t we go and get some food? Or go to The Lex?’

‘Ros, I told you, no one goes there any more. They got a new landlord and it’s basically a crack den,’ Sumi pulled a face. ‘It was always basically a crack den, we were just too poor to care before. If you’re hungry, they’ve got really good food here. Adrian loves the burger, have that.’

‘I really want to go somewhere else,’ I said, looking over my shoulder. ‘I know you like it here but this place is so pretentious and totally overpriced. Let’s go and get a pizza or something.’

Sumi set down her glass with concern. ‘What on earth’s wrong? Did something happen to you downstairs?’

‘Nothing happened to her,’ a voice answered from behind the bar. ‘And we’ve got pizza. But it might be too overpriced and pretentious for you.’

And there he was. The man from the gents, strapping a leather work apron over his white shirt and his damp blue jeans.

‘John!’ Sumi leaned over the bar to press kisses on either side of his annoyed face. ‘What are you doing here on a Monday?’

Of course, they were friends. Of course they were.

‘Mostly being attacked in the men’s toilets,’ he replied, never once taking his dark eyes off me.

‘I didn’t attack you, it was an accident,’ I muttered. I attempted to hide my face behind my masses of hair, utterly mortified. ‘It’s not my fault you pissed on your shoes.’

‘Is that what I can smell?’ Sumi sniffed the air and made a face.

‘Could be the pizza,’ I suggested.

Sumi looked from me to John and back to me, a confused smile on her face. As much as I loved my friend, she did like to stir up shit and there was clearly shit here to stir.

‘So, it seems like you’ve already met but we’ll do introductions anyway. John, this is my best friend, Ros, the one who was in America. Ros, this is John McMahon, the greatest bartender in all of London.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ I mumbled, holding out my hand. He stared at it but did not move. ‘What? You know it’s clean.’

‘Nice to see you, Sumi,’ John said with a nod. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’m needed in the kitchen.’

Leaving my hand hanging over the bar, he turned and disappeared down a staircase I hadn’t noticed before, hidden behind an enormous wine rack.

‘Well,’ Sumi turned back to me and took a long sip of wine. ‘Someone made an impression.’

‘Not the one I would have chosen,’ I replied curtly. ‘So, you were saying something about a burger?’

‘Drink your drink,’ she ordered. ‘I’m buying and you’re not working, let’s get pissed.’

‘Actually, I might have a job after all.’ I gave her a happy grin, accompanied by my best jazz hands. ‘Do you remember Danielle who I used to work with?’

Sumi frowned. ‘Was she the very, very keen one?’

‘Was and still is,’ I nodded. ‘She got my new number text and she reckons she might have a job for me. How mad is that?’

Sumi’s face began to scrunch in on itself until her nose was the only discernible feature left. ‘Were you weeing or were you down there texting everyone you’ve ever worked with? On a public toilet? In London?’

‘No,’ I said quickly. ‘I was reading texts on the toilet and making one very quick phone call. Perfectly acceptable according to millennial social etiquette. I only sent that one text.’

She suddenly stared at me with very wide eyes.

‘Ros, did you send that text to every number in your contacts?’

I nodded.

‘And you thought that was a good idea?’

I nodded.

‘Have you got any idea of the number of dick pics you’re going to get in the next twenty-four hours?’

I considered it for a moment then decided I definitely did not want dick pics. Yes, I was going through a dry spell but still. Unbidden dicks were not nice to look at. Even bidden dicks failed to make the prettiest of pictures. There was a reason there was no ‘hall of knobs’ at the Louvre.

‘No one in my contacts would send a woman dick pics,’ I stated. ‘I’m sure of it.’

I was not sure of it.

‘So it is written, so shall it be,’ Sumi declared. ‘Thou sendeth a group text to unknownst numbers and ye shall receiveth pics of dicks. Even I get dick pics and talk about a waste of time.’

I grabbed my glass of wine and took a deep sip. ‘You’re so lucky to be a lesbian.’

‘And don’t I know it,’ she agreed.

By ten o’clock, I was safely tucked up in bed with Starting Over, slightly buzzed, learning how to tap into my limitless ass-kicking optimism and waiting for my phone to stop vibrating. The shed was feeling more and more like a Twilight Zone version of home – from the Forever Friends jewellery box to the Groovy Chick pillowcase – but it was all just a little bit off. To make matters even more confusing, just as I got into bed, Mum popped in to put all my dryer-shrunk clothes away in my drawers and, at some point in the day, Dad had been by to hook up an ancient VHS to the useless television. I now had the thrilling choice of watching any number of mid-nineties Disney films, six episodes from season two of Sex in the City, or a live rendition of Les Misérables Mum had taped off BBC about twenty years ago and, for some reason, protected with her life. I’d never had it so good.

As the words in my book began to blur together, I gave up on reading, sliding the book down the slender gap between the bed and the wall and checking my morning alarm for at least the fifteenth time.

‘See?’ I told the ceiling of the shed as I wedged my phone underneath my pillow. ‘I am not a failed loser who is going to die alone, I am loved by my friends and family and an in-demand professional who is open to love and new experiences and also drinking wine on Mondays.’

I hiccupped and smiled happily, hugging my pillow tightly as I closed my eyes and went straight to sleep.