The Men in her Life

whether you could get a man if you did, where, how, whether you should have gone to bed with him on the first date, whether he was too old, too young, married, misogynist, repressed homosexual, or just too boring to spend the rest of your life with. Marriage sorted out your personal life in one stroke. That, she decided, was enough for one year. Her professional life might take a little more consideration and, like Scarlett O’Hara, she couldn’t think about that today. Perhaps other things in her life would become important, like even, maybe, one day, they hadn’t made any definite decision yet, children? Enough. Holly stood up and paid her bill. It was noon. There was still a whole afternoon of her single life left to her before Colette came round to help her get dressed and made up. She wanted to make the most of it.
    Holly walked towards Covent Garden . There was a flower stall at Seven Dials that looked as if it should be in a painting. She hadn’t intended to bother much with flowers, but seeing all the colours dancing before her in the sunshine, she could not resist, and spent ages choosing a selection of brightly coloured blooms which the man tied into a packed hemispherical posy for her.
    ‘Oh, but my dress is sort of a bluey, greeny colour,’ she suddenly remembered, looking at the predominantly orange choice she had made.
    ‘Well, this will go with your hair,’ he said, winking at her, ‘I love a redhead. Tell your husband he’s a lucky man.’
    ‘Oh, I do,’ Holly replied, ‘all the time.’
    She wandered around Neal’s Yard sniffing essential oils and eventually buying a small bottle of something that promised healthy-looking skin in seconds, then she bought a hot dog in a bun and ate it leaning over the railings in Covent Garden market, watching a string quartet playing in the well below.
    The Christmas decorations were already up, and in the piazza there was an old-fashioned carousel with golden horses. Holly had loved carousels ever since seeing her first film which was Mary Poppins. Climbing aboard, she thought how silly she must look, nearly six foot of her, alone, up there with all the five-year-olds. I’m getting married, she wanted to shout, as she went round and round and round in a glittering gilded whirl of lights and music.
    Afterwards she walked down to Waterloo Bridge to look at the view of the city she loved. New York had the skyscape and Brooklyn Bridge , Paris had the lie de la Cite, and this was London ’s view. She gazed down to St Paul ’s and beyond towards the concrete tower where she had grown up, and then turned and looked up the river to the Houses of Parliament. The sun was going down already and all the buildings were tinted with rose gold.
    Holly remembered with nostalgia all the times in her childhood she had hung from the top bar of the railings by her knees, terrifying Mo, not because she was about to fall into the river, but because she was showing her knickers to the world.
    And she remembered walking back across the bridge with Jack on the morning of 2nd May that year, after the victory party at the Festival Hall. She couldn’t recall how the subject had come up but she remembered with great clarity him saying, almost affectionately, ‘You’ll never find a man strong enough to marry you, Holly.’
    ‘Well, Jack, I just did,’ Holly whispered into the wind.

    By the time she was back at her flat it was getting cold outside. Holly went into the bathroom and turned on the hot tap to fill the room with warm steam before her shower. She was just about to step in when the doorbell rang. Cursing Colette for being early, she put on her towelling bathrobe and padded downstairs.
    Simon was standing outside.
    ‘Have you lost your key?’ she asked him.
    ‘No. I just didn’t want to use it...’
    ‘Didn’t want to? Look, come in, it’s bloody freezing. Colette’ll kill you if she finds you here. I’m sure it’s meant to be unlucky or something...’
    He followed her up the stairs, then stood awkwardly in the doorway of her kitchen.
    ‘Coffee?’ she asked, ‘I haven’t got any milk, but if you’re really desperate you could nip back and get some...’
    ‘No thanks,’ he said.
    ‘I’ve had a wonderful day,’ Holly began to tell him as she poured boiling water onto brown granules in the bottom of her cup, ‘first, I had breakfast at...’
    Then, sensing something was wrong, she looked over to where he was standing.
    ‘What’s up?’ she asked