Page 74 of The Love of Our Lives
And then, as if by magic, this huge shiny truck-like vehicle comes to a stop right in front of us.
‘What the . . .?’ I say, trying to peer in the darkened windows.
The driver’s door opens and a man in a black suit and cap gets out, goes to open the passenger door. Then he looks at me expectantly, his bushy grey eyebrows raised.
‘Miss,’ he says, ushering me in.
I look at the man, look at Simon, who takes my hand in his.
‘Here’s the thing,’ he says, and I immediately feel the tingle of his touch, this real familiarity about it. ‘Before you left, things were crazy, with your work, with our lives – I think we forgot why we were even in London in the first place, what we wanted from this place. And as I said before, I’ll follow you anywhere, Emily, but more than anything, I’d just really love for us to pick up where we left off.’
‘So,’ he continues, turning to the plush seats inside, ‘I thought we could go around the city and be tourists for the day, see some of our favourite haunts too.’
And even as he speaks the words, I think of all the sights I never went to see, and all the big cities I experienced only through a screen.
‘What do you say?’
‘I say yes.’ I grin, and climb into the car.
‘You’ve got that camera of yours at the ready, I see,’ Simon says, getting in beside me.
‘Yup,’ I reply, feeling for it around my neck.
‘Best present I ever got you,’ he says, clipping himself in.
My heart skips slightly, and as I look at it with surprised realisation – the camera from Simon, attached to the lens from Adam – we speed off down the road.
Moments later, we’re cruising through London in our very own tour car while the driver, Alex, merrily fills us in on titbits of history – how London was the capital of Roman Britain for most of Roman rule and over 8.7 million people live here. It is a city full of life and activity and opportunity, and just seeing fragments of it sends a thrill through me. We stop at Big Ben (‘did you know it’s actually the clock that’s called Big Ben and not the tower?’), the houses of Parliament, Buckingham Palace and London Bridge. I get my camera out and start snapping away at it all, and not for the first time, I wonder about coming down here when I get back to my old life. Seeing everything I can.
We head to old haunts of ours next, jumping out at Holborn and finding the little frozen yoghurt shop with the amazing mango flavour. We head to Borough Market and wander around the stalls and restaurants. We end up at the Singapore street food place we love and I start laughing suddenly, remembering that the last time we were here we were dressed up as pirates for a party after. We get iced coffees at our place nearby where the dog always wears a bow tie. We have a couple of drinks at the wine bar at Embankment where we had our particularly drunken and hilarious (due to the unfortunate name of the wine) third date, before heading across the water to a little fair. We wander through the people and the happy music, talking aboutabsolute nonsense, and I get a flash of something in my chest – this feeling like I genuinely enjoy hanging out with this guy and we’ve experienced some great times together. It wasn’t all about the money and the lifestyle. We actually loved each other too.
We end the day at a gorgeous little Bistro in Bermondsey and, as I take a last perfect mouthful of the crème brûléeSimon knows I love, I feel him looking across at me.
‘What is it?’ I say, feeling suddenly nervous.
‘Nothing.’ He pauses. ‘Just . . . you seem happy; more relaxed than before. Maybe the time away was a good idea, after all.’
‘Maybe it was,’ I say softly.
But as I take a sip of my champagne, I can’t help thinking about that night up on Adam’s terrace. How, even though we had no roof above our heads, and there were no fancy waiters and no two-hundred-pound bottle of champagne, I was still happier than I’ve ever been.
‘Everything OK?’ Simon says.
I look up at him. ‘Yes, of course.’
‘Well then,’ he says, ‘how about I take you back to the hotel?’
‘All right,’ I say.
Ten minutes later and we’re back where we started. Simon jumps out with me to say goodnight in front of the grand entrance, and as soft music floats out the hotel into the late March air, I feel so nicely full and tired.
‘So,’ he says, standing in front of me, ‘have you had a good time today?’
‘Of course, what wasn’t to like?’
And I mean it. I’ve had the most incredible experience – seen all the best sights of London in style, and with great company too. Because Simon is a brilliant man and maybe he and Emily just needed some time apart. Maybe she did still love him, and it would be very easy now to slot back into this life. To see outEmily’s last few months, right here in London. Her friends are all here, her old job, Simon – the life, all right at my fingertips.
A pause.
