One Perfect Summer

don’t think I should say. Maybe she doesn’t want to know me now.’
    ‘Of course she does! Look at you!’ Straight to camera: ‘Alright, then, Alice Whateveryournameis, you know who you are, you know where to find him. If you want to get in touch with this Love God all you have to do is call the studio.’ He turns back to Joe. ‘But you have to invite me to your wedding . . .’
    Joe laughs softly. ‘It’s a deal.’
    ‘Thank you very much, Joseph Strike!’ The audience roars. ‘We’ll be back after the break with—’
    Lizzy presses Pause and looks straight at me. My mouth is wide open. I shut it abruptly.
    ‘Holy shit,’ I whisper.
    She looks like she’s about to burst. ‘Don’t kill me,’ she says.
    ‘What?’
    ‘I called the studio and gave them your mobile number.’
    ‘You didn ’ t !’
    ‘I did.’
    ‘Holy FUCK!’ I dig my mobile out of my pocket and turn it back on. ‘Holy fuck,’ I say again.
    ‘ARGHHH!’ she screams with excitement.
    ‘What if he doesn’t call?’ The thought is too horrendous to contemplate. Then again, what if he does call? My whole body shivers with nervous excitement. This could be the longest wait for a phone call that I’ve ever experienced in my life.
    ‘I think we need a drink!’ Lizzy exclaims.
    ‘Yes!’
    She rushes out of the room and I look at my mobile. My thoughts flit to Lukas and I instantly feel guilty. I relocate back to the sofa and put the phone down beside me.
    Suddenly it starts to vibrate. I snatch it up and look at the screen: caller ID withheld. I can practically hear my heart thumping inside my chest as I press Answer and put it to my ear.
    ‘Hello?’ I ask tentatively.
    ‘Alice?’
    ‘Joe.’
    ‘Alice?’ he asks again.
    ‘Yes. It’s me.’
    ‘Is it really you? Alice Simmons?’ He sounds so heart-rendingly hopeful.
    ‘Yes, Joe Strickwold, it’s me.’ I feel like every part of my body is smiling.
    ‘I can’t believe I’ve found you,’ he says in a small voice.
    Lizzy rushes back into the room with two glasses of wine. ‘Right!’ she says, then freezes on the spot when she sees me on the phone. ‘Is it him?’ she mouths, her eyes wider than a goldfish’s.
    ‘Hang on a minute, Joe.’ I get up and go into the kitchen, closing the door behind me. Much as I know this will kill her, I need to have this conversation without feeling self-conscious about someone listening in. I pull up a chair and sit down.
    ‘Are you there?’ I ask.
    ‘I’m here,’ he replies quietly.
    After all this time I don’t know what to say.
    ‘Can I see you?’ He sounds choked up.
    ‘Yes, of course.’
    ‘When?’
    ‘When is good for you?’ That was a bit formal.
    ‘Um, well, I . . . Where do you live?’
    ‘I’m in north London at the moment with my parents. But usually Cambridge.’
    ‘You still live in Cambridge?’ he asks with a little surprise.
    ‘I do.’
    ‘Can you . . .’ He hesitates. ‘Can you meet me tomorrow morning?’ He seems unsure of himself.
    ‘Where?’
    ‘You can ? Good.’ I hear the relief in his voice. ‘Can you come to my hotel?’
    ‘Yes, where are you staying?’
    He gives me his address and room number. ‘There will be . . . security outside the room.’ He seems embarrassed. ‘But I’ll tell them you’re coming.’
    ‘Okay.’
    ‘I’ll see you tomorrow?’
    ‘Oh, what time?’
    ‘Oh, yeah.’ He laughs nervously. ‘How early can you come?’
    ‘As early as you’d like.’ I’d go there now if he asked me.
    ‘Is . . .’ Again, hesitant. ‘Is eight o’clock too early? Or nine?’
    ‘Eight o’clock is fine.’
    ‘Great. Okay.’ More relief. ‘We can call room service. Breakfast,’ he adds.
    ‘Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.’ I don’t want to hang up, but this exchange hasn’t exactly been lacking in awkwardness. I hope face to face will be better.
    ‘Okay,’ he says. ‘See you tomorrow.’
    ‘Bye.’
    ‘Wait!’ he shouts.
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Alice?’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Let me give you my mobile number.’
    ‘Oh, okay.’
    ‘I don’t want to lose touch again.’
    I smile to myself as I jot it down.
    ‘See you tomorrow,’ I say.
    ‘Bye.’
    He hangs up.
    How the hell am I going to get any sleep tonight?

 
    I set my alarm for six so I have plenty of time to disguise the bags under my eyes with make-up, although of course I don’t need it. The alarm, I mean. The make-up I most certainly do.
    I wear jeans with high-heeled boots and an emerald-green