Page 43 of Our Stop

Nadia didn’t know what to say. She wanted to say,Excuse me, do you mind? Can I shower alone? You’re being horribly presumptuous.

But instead she smiled weakly and said, ‘I’ll get you a toothbrush.’

Barely rinsing off – she’d wonder all day why her head felt itchy, and then remember that she hadn’t washed out the conditioner properly – she inched past Eddie’s wet body.

‘Hey,’ he said, grabbing her in a moist embrace. ‘Come here.’

He was acting like her boyfriend. Like they’d been together weeks or months, not like they’d just met last night – literally, not even twelve hours ago. Nadia didn’t know the polite way to tell him not to be so clingy, not least when, to his credit, he’d done a superb job of being a gentleman and making sure she came again and again the night before, her pleasure as much centre-stage as his own. That was a low barrier for a lover, and yet true nonetheless. Nadia had slept with many a man who didn’t seem to care less if she came or not – and most certainly performed with the idea that sex was over once he had come. Eddie had been generous and thoughtful, at least. On reflection, he couldn’t possibly have been as drunk as she was.

‘Hmmmm,’ she said, barely grazing his cheek with her lips and ducking out.

As she got dressed in her bedroom he appeared in the doorway, naked and dripping.

‘I think you took the only towel,’ he said. Nadia’s jaw dropped. He was hard, and it was obviously an invitation. He reached for the damp towel she’d discarded on the bed.

‘I’ll just use this,’ he said, leaning over provocatively. He held her eye and Nadia looked at his crotch and he loved that she was looking but she hated that she was. She pulled her eyes away and busied herself in the mirror. She picked up and put down several pots: moisturizer and eye cream and primer, everything designed to make her look more human than she felt. Eddie dried himself off behind her, and then executed his most shocking, perverted act of the morning: he began politely making the bed.

Oh god, thought Nadia.I’ve managed to have a one-night stand with the nicest man in the world.It was lovely that Eddie was being so thoughtful and kind but in absolutely no way did she want anything to do with him. Train Guy had been the last straw. Nope. That was it. She was taking a break from men, and focusing all the energy she could otherwise have given her love life on work. She’d resume romantic hopefulness after Christmas, or maybe after her next birthday. She didn’t have the stamina for it right now. She was done. Finished. No more sexy romance love-time for Nadia.

She just had to politely extract herself from the topless man in her bedroom first.

‘Which direction are you heading in?’

‘Huh?’ she said. ‘Me?’

Eddie smiled. ‘No, the other woman I made scream my name last night. Yes, you.’

‘Oh. Erm.’ Nadia was stalling. She couldn’t bear to think they’d ride into work together. That wasn’t what this was. She’d made a mistake. Unforgivable, really. If this was the other way around and she had slept with a man who was being arcticly cold, she’d pitch a fit and blame the patriarchy. This was an embarrassing double standard. It wasn’t like she’d deliberately used Eddie as a confidence boost last night, it was just things that things had got out of hand. And they were both adults. Casual sex could happen. That was okay, right?

‘Northern line to London Bridge,’ she said, weakly.

‘Great,’ Eddie replied. ‘That’s the direction I’m headed too.’

Nadia winced and forced a smile in response. ‘Great,’ she said, meaning exactly the opposite.

30

Daniel

Daniel didn’t know what else to do aside from making sure he was on the 7.30 through Angel. He needed her to be on that train. When she was, he’d promised himself that he would march right up to her and say, ‘I’m sorry. My dad died a few months ago and my mother was very upset and I didn’t want to leave. But I had to. I’m all she’s got. My name is Daniel and it is me who has been writing to you. You don’t have to forgive me for standing you up, but please: all I ask is that you give me a second chance at a first impression.’ That’s what he was going to say.

He had, in fact, a whole speech planned out in his head, and he was nervous and excited and determined to deliver it. He’d got back from his mum’s house late last night. Holding her as she cried was hard – holding her as she held him, because they both cried, was hard – and the late night and worry showed on his face. But he had showered and put on a crisp, clean shirt, shaved and used mouthwash and moisturizer, and as the train passed through King’s Cross he took a breath, knowing her stop was next.

Please, please, please, please, please, please, he willed silently.Please be here.

As the train pulled up he eagerly looked out of the window, and there she stood, right in her usual place. Radiant and perfect and Daniel’s tummy leapt and he clenched his fists in victory. She was here! The train lined up so that the doors he stood beside were the ones that would open for her.

Okay pal, he coached himself.This is it. This is your moment. Do yourself proud.

The doors opened, one or two people stepped off the train, and space was made for her to get on. Daniel straightened himself up and arranged his features into an encouraging smile, ready to say her name.

‘Nadia?’

The tall ginger man who stood slightly behind her beat him to it. He was wearing a leather jacket and had stubble and cocked his head towards the left, saying, ‘This way, babe.’

The train was unusually quiet, and the pair got seats together right at the end of the carriage, the guy reaching an arm proprietorially over her shoulder and pulling her in towards him. Daniel adjusted himself to get a better look. Nadia had her legs crossed and the man had his other hand on her knee. Daniel edged closer to where they were, straining to hear what the man was saying. It was something about plans for the weekend – did she want to go to Columbia Road Flower Market? They could start at the end with the cafés and get coffee and pastries, and then walk up and look in the shops and end up at the pub at the other end, maybe think about lunch. He had a whole weekend itinerary for them, spilling out from the tip of his tongue and Daniel knew, right in the space between his belly button and his gut, just from that small snippet he’d heard, that they had a life together. He didn’t know how he’d missed the signs – although, admittedly, this was the first time he’d seen them together. Maybe all those other days, the ones when she wasn’t on the 7.30, she was actually commuting in from his house, from somewhere else in London. He looked like the kind of guy who lived south of the river. Peckham, maybe, in one of the new developments that everyone had said wouldn’t sell and now went at half a million for a one-bed. That would make sense: that’s why he didn’t see her every day.

He followed that trail of thought. If Nadia had a boyfriend, it occurred to him, then surely it couldn’t have been her who had been writing back to the adverts. He’d presumed without question that it was, but now he felt stupid: it could have been anybody wanting a bit of excitement responding to those notes. Maybe it was like horoscopes: all the details applied, if only you searched hard enough.

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