Page 15 of Love, Accidentally

‘Really? Who does that? It’s so last century.’

‘Luke does, apparently. Anyway, it means I can reply at leisure and he’ll never know.’

She smiles. ‘There’s a game of cat and mouse going on here for sure. I’m just not sure who’s the cat and who’s the mouse.’

‘I think I’m the cat today, don’t you?’ I tell her as I slip my phone back into my pocket. Tash doesn’t get a chance to reply as something appears to have gone wrong in the card game and Isaac is loudly accusing Mum of cheating. As I watch her calmly intervene to restore order, I allow myself a moment to congratulate myself. Tempting as it was to reply to Luke’s message straight away, I’m playing this exactly as I said I would.

There is still one problem, however. What on earth am I going to wear for our lunch date? As Tash distracts an increasingly furious Isaac and Mum adopts the innocent ‘what on earth did I do’ face that means Isaac’s accusations probably have fairly decent grounds, I do a mental inventory of my wardrobe, picturing myself in various outfits. I want something that expresses my interest, without giving him the impression I’m offering myself to him on a plate. But then, as I don’t know the venue, it’s impossible to know how formal I have to be.

It doesn’t take long for the solution to present itself. After I’ve accepted, I’ll set the venue. The pizza place on Mount Pleasant Road, I decide after a bit of thought. Nice and informal, so I can wear jeans under a fitted top, giving off just the right amount of flirtation without screaming ‘pick me!’ Also inexpensive so I won’t have wasted money if he tries to pull rank again and I decide to leave early. Hopefully he’ll have learned his lesson there. If that’s the case, I might even let myself be talked into going back to his place afterwards. I’d better make sure I put on decent knickers, just in case. So much for not being an easy conquest, then.

7

I didn’t sleep with Luke, and I still don’t know whether I’m pleased or disappointed. I mean, I was ready to sleep with him; I’d treated myself to a new matching knicker and bra set, exfoliated thoroughly and hacked my normally unruly pubic hair into something a little more presentable. I’m not one for the plucked-chicken look down there, but equally I do understand that not all men want to feel like they’re fighting their way through the enchanted forest.

The lunch itself went really well. Luke was looking frankly edible in light chinos and a light blue shirt, with the sleeves rolled up just far enough for me to appreciate his forearms. He was attentive, entertaining, and didn’t whine about his treatment from Dr Rogers once. He asked me lots of questions about my family and my experiences growing up, and I found him really easy to chat to. The only slightly weird moment in the whole conversation was when I was talking about my living arrangements, and I mentioned that it was just me and Mike most of the time. I think, like Sarah, he struggled with the idea that I could have a platonic relationship with Mike, given that we shared a flat and were evidently close, but I managed to reassure him in the end. At least, I hope I did.

If he’d invited me to go back to his for coffee or more, I definitely would have gone, but that didn’t happen. Instead, he apologetically explained how his mum wasn’t good with strangers and would promptly forget who I was every time she turned her back, so I’d be continually introducing myself to a terrified old woman. I could tell he was angling for an invitation back to mine, but I hadn’t planned for that and couldn’t remember whether Mike’s washing was spread on dryers around the place, or whether I’d made my bed this morning, so kept my mouth closed.

I’m now back in the thick of it on a Friday night shift, so I don’t have mental space for the delicious Dr Luke. Saturday is definitely the main night of the week for drink-related accidents, but Fridays run them a close second. So far tonight, our patients have included two men who decided to try to settle their differences by shoving broken glasses in each other’s faces, a woman who broke her ankle falling off a kerb in high heels, and another woman with a suspected fractured pelvis after she stepped into the road without looking and got hit by a car. It’s only 12.30 and we all know there’s plenty more to come. An already tense atmosphere isn’t helped by the fact that our lead consultant is Dr Patel, who famously has no tolerance for self-inflicted injuries, particularly those where alcohol or sex are the root cause.

‘For goodness’ sake,’ she muttered crossly as we sent the woman with the suspected pelvis fracture down to X-ray. ‘How difficult is it to look before you cross the road? I mean, we teach this shit in primary school, don’t we?’

I do sometimes wonder why she works in A&E, given her lack of empathy for a lot of the people we have to treat, but I’ve never summoned the courage to ask her. Tonight won’t be the night either, as the flow of people coming through the door and being blue-lighted in is only accelerating as we go further into the early hours. People often ask me how I cope working twelve-hour night shifts, but the time simply flies and, in a weird way, I often prefer them to the slightly slower day shifts. By the time we get to the morning handover I’m running on pure adrenaline, as are the rest of the team. Tonight will be even more intense, but thankfully I won’t be here as this is the end of my three nights on and I’m looking forward to a hot shower and a long sleep. By the time I meet Luke again for lunch on Monday, I should be more or less back in the right time zone. I’ve already vowed that I’m going to make sure the flat is presentable as I want to be ready if there’s the faintest possibility of moving this on from the PG zone we’re in currently.

* * *

When I get back home, I’m surprised to find Sarah in the kitchen, dressed in a pair of Mike’s boxer shorts and a T-shirt, operating the coffee machine as if she’s known it all her life. This must be the fourth time I’ve seen her here, which has to be some kind of record.

‘Morning, Tilly,’ she says. ‘Rough night? Fancy a coffee? I think I’ve mastered this machine now.’

‘Thanks, Sarah, but I think I’m going to have a hot shower and head straight to bed.’

‘Umm.’ She bites her lip uncertainly. ‘There’s someone in there.’

‘What?’ I exclaim crossly. ‘Mike knows not to be in the shower when I get home from a night shift. It’s literally cardinal rulenumero uno.’

‘It’s not Mike,’ she tells me conspiratorially. ‘It’sher.’

‘Who?’

‘You know, the mystery woman in the other bedroom.’

‘You mean Lena?’

‘Yes. She arrived just after I got up. She just staggered in, grunted a greeting at me, dumped her rucksack and disappeared into the bathroom. She’s been in there for nearly an hour.’

‘For fuck’s sake.’ Although it’s Lena’s flat and she has every right to come and go as she pleases, I’m not very good at having my post-shift routines mucked about. I just want to wash and go to bed.

‘I tell you what,’ I say to Sarah with a sigh. ‘Maybe I’ll have that coffee after all. Tell me how things are with you and Mike.’

‘They’re good,’ she says enthusiastically as she reaches into the cupboard for more coffee pods. ‘We’re talking about a weekend away in the not-too-distant future. Norfolk, maybe, or even further afield.’

‘Really?’ I say, trying to disguise the surprise in my voice. ‘That sounds lovely.’ Since Caroline, Mike definitely doesn’t do forward planning with his sexual partners, so I file it away to grill him about next time we’re alone. If someone as commitment-phobic as Mike is showing signs of settling down, I definitely don’t want to be left on the shelf.

‘Yes. I know you’re surprised, Tilly, it’s OK. He’s been honest with me about his past, but we both feel a connection and we’d like to see where it goes.’

‘Hey, no judgement from me,’ I tell her. ‘If you can tame him, then I take my hat off to you.’

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