Perfect Day

more interesting?’
    ‘No, poverty’s much more boring because you can’t go out and be bored by a cappuccino, you have to stay in and be bored by the mould on your kitchen wall, but at least if you do have a cappuccino you enjoy it,’ she says tersely, ‘so that’s something.’
    Then she digs at the slab of apple crumble he has bought her. The cold slices of cooked apple have a crumbly coating of thick white icing sugar.
    ‘I think I’ve been rather selfish, haven’t I?’ he says.
    ‘Why?’
    ‘You didn’t like sushi, or oysters...’
    ‘You bought me a cappuccino this morning,’ she says.
    ‘Did I? Oh yes.’
    It seems a lifetime ago that he was standing in the alleyway outside her flat wondering whether to press the bell marked Joy.
    It started with him buying her a cappuccino, and this is where it should end, he thinks. If he were sensible, this is where it would end. He takes a deep breath.
    ‘That woman we saw in the park...’ he says.
    ‘ Tweed ?’
    He smiles.
    ‘Yes, Tweed ... Her real name is Helge .’
    He waits for Kate’s reaction.
    ‘Why did you say you couldn’t remember?’ she asks.
    ‘Because I didn’t know how to introduce you,’ he says, ‘I didn’t know what to say you were.’
    ‘A friend?’ Kate suggests.
    ‘Is this what this is, then, just friendship?’ he asks.
    She smiles, acknowledging the echo of her earlier question.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ he says.
    ‘What for?’
    ‘About Helge .’
    ‘It’s OK. I knew,’ she says.
    This isn’t what was supposed to happen. He told her about Helge to make her cross with him, but if anything she seems more contented.
    ‘What’s the time?’ she asks.
    He looks at his wrist. No watch.
    There’s a clock inside above the counter. He peers through the glass window. ‘Nearly four o’clock,’ he says.
    ‘We’d better be getting back,’ Kate says. ‘My shift starts at six.’
    Now he doesn’t want this to end, even though he Was just making an effort to put a stop to it.
    The air between them is buzzing with questions he daren’t ask and cannot answer.
    What happens now?
    What happens when we get back to the flat?
    What happens when you go to work?
    ‘Would you like to go up to the top of Primrose Hill and look at the view?’ he asks, trying to postpone the moment for all these decisions.
    ‘Yes!’
    ‘Come on then.’
    ‘Wait here a minute!’

    Alexander stands on the pavement outside the bookshop while Kate’s inside chatting to the owner. He sees the old man’s face lift with pleasure at something she says. She’s holding a book, but he can’t see what it is.
    Then she’s out again with a broad smile on her face and a plastic carrier bag in her hand. ‘I’ve bought you a present,’ she says, holding it out to him.
    ‘But...’
    ‘It’s only a day’s budget, which you haven’t let me spend,’ she insists, pressing it into his hands.
    There’s something about the size and weight of the book inside the bag that he recognizes immediately. His heart starts to thud against his ribcage. It’s like a scary moment in a film he’s seen before. He knows what’s going to happen, but he still doesn’t want to look.
    Kate’s so eager to have his reaction to the present, she won’t let him put it off any longer.
    ‘Come on!’
    She jiggles up and down.
    It’s a children’s book, a shiny new paperback edition that smells slightly of chemicals.
    ‘Look,’ she says, pointing to the picture on the front of a little boy lying on a brightly coloured carpet. ‘It’s you!’
    Alexander’s past rushes into his present.
    ‘Sasha’s Magic Carpet,’ he reads.
    ‘It’s about this little boy who has this magic carpet — see,’ Kate enthuses.
    ‘I know.’
    She takes the book back and flips through, showing him, stopping at favourite pictures and glancing at him for his reaction. She’s smiling really hard as if the sheer smiliness of her smile will force the corners of his mouth to turn upwards.
    He lifts the book from her hands and opens it at the first page.
    The book’s dedication reads:
    ‘For Alexander, of course.’
    He points to each word, like teaching a child to read.
    Kate looks at it. At him. Still not understanding.
    ‘My mother wrote this,’ he says.
    ‘You’re Sasha?’

Seventeen

    ‘Fifty people feared dead in this morning’s train crash,’ the DJ on the tannoy announces as Nell and Frances step onto the pier. ‘And enjoy the sunshine, because it’s not going to last.