When a waiter escorts me to our table, Edward stands up, kissing me on both cheeks. He’s dressed in an open-necked striped shirt and casual jacket, his thick brown hair swept away from his forehead, and his faint line of stubble squares his jawline and makes him look edgy and masculine. I don’t normally go for that look, preferring the more clean-shaven appearance, like Charlie, but it looks surprisingly good on Edward.
‘Wow, this is great,’ I say, gesturing to the disappointingly empty restaurant.
‘I wasn’t sure what kind of food you’re into,’ he says, ‘but I read a couple of decent reviews so thought what the hell! Let’s spoil ourselves.’
The Terrace is a smart restaurant with white linen tablecloths and on each table are gleaming silver cutlery and glass vases filled with fresh lilies and roses. It’s old-fashioned in many ways, the waiters dressed in uniform. It’s a bit over the top, I decide, and pretty soulless, the atmosphere dead with only two other solitary couples sitting at tables widely spaced apart. But I’m touched that Edward’s made such an effort to impress me. ‘Shall we order some wine?’ he suggests.
‘Cool.’ I scan the five-page wine list, unable to see any bottles that are under twenty quid. Fuck me. There’s a bottle of champagne for two hundred! An awful thought runs through my mind. Is Edward paying for this? I can’t assume he is. ‘Why don’t we go for the house white?’ I say, noticing that ordering a bottle is cheaper than buying three glasses. ‘It’s on page five. The bottom one?’ It’s still expensive at twenty-eight pounds, but at least it’s not a week’s salary.
‘Sounds good,’ he replies, evident relief in his voice.
*
‘So …’ we both say at the same time, after the waiter has shown us the label on the bottle, uncorked the wine and asked if Edward or I would like to taste, and finally poured us both a glass.
‘I was going to say,’ Edward begins, ‘it feels odd being here, seeing you without our partners in crime.’ We talk briefly about the Canine Partner course, both of us wondering how Alex and Cilla are, along with Jenny and Captain. ‘How’s Ticket?’
‘He’s grand.’
Grand?
Cass, where did that word come from? ‘How’s Tinkerbell?’ I move on quickly, hoping he hasn’t registered how nervous I am.
‘She’s the best. The guys love her at work.’ Edward tells me about his job in the security industry. ‘Big companies are always terrified of terrorist attacks, so they get in loads of ex-military to advise. Basically I do a lot of consultation work for them.’ As he’s talking I’m wondering if I can imagine kissing him. He’s tall and broad shouldered and I like his thick dark hair and the way a few wayward strands flick across his eyes. There’s also a weight to his presence. Maybe that’s because I know he’s been in the Marines and fought in Afghanistan, but as he talks he appears comfortable in his own skin. He’s a different man to the Edward I met on the Canine Partner course; the Edward who had kept his gaze fixed firmly on the ground.
I take a sip of wine, pacing myself since I’m driving. ‘Do your friends tease you about her name?’
He laughs, an open easy laugh that reminds me of Charlie. ‘Oh yes. I was hoping at the assessment days that there might have been a dog called Hercules …’
‘Or Goliath?’
He smiles and we catch each other’s eye. I’m the first to turn away, muttering how delicious the wine is as I take another sip.
‘Tinkerbell’s my beautiful girl,’ he says. ‘I wouldn’t trade her for a million Herculeses or Goliaths.’
Over our main course (I suggested we skip starters) Edward tells me he always wanted to be a soldier, ever since he was a child. In the same way that I don’t know where my love of medicine came from, he doesn’t know why he wanted to be in the forces. His father, who had died when Edward was in his early twenties, was an accountant by trade but had worked in the oil business. His mum was a housewife. ‘I joined the Marines when I was eighteen, signed up to the training course. Dad always encouraged me but Mum never liked the idea of it. I’m an only child, you see. Mum hated it even more when my father died. She wanted me to be in an office, safe behind a desk.’
‘Nothing is ever safe,’ I say. ‘And perhaps the more safe we play it, the more dangerous it becomes?’
‘Yes,’ he says. ‘I’ve never thought about it in that way. We only get one life, Cass. Despite this –’ he gestures to his crutches – ‘I don’t regret a single moment.’
*
The dessert trolley rattles towards us, the two couples in the restaurant still not talking.
‘Sorry, it’s a little dead in here, isn’t it?’ He’s almost smiling.
‘It’s not the most lively of places,’ I reply, before both of us laugh, fully relaxed now.
‘Why don’t they talk?’ Edward whispers. ‘I don’t get it, do you? Why come out to a fancy place and then say nothing?’
‘Exactly, and how can you go home and ignore the fact that you’ve just had dinner and it wasn’t exactly a bundle of fun? It’s weird. Makes me feel uncomfortable.’
‘Sorry, Cass,’ he says again, running a hand through his hair. ‘We could do a runner?’
That makes me laugh even more. ‘I’d like to see you and me making a quick exit.’
‘We wouldn’t get very far,’ he admits.
‘Nope. We’re staying put I’m afraid. I’ve just seen the tiramisu.’
As we share a tiramisu, Edward complaining that I gave myself the bigger half, he asks me about my first week at Back Up. As I talk, I’m aware of his intense gaze and all I can think about is what happens after the meal. Will he be inviting me back to his flat for a
coffee
? Edward lives in a ground floor flat in Richmond. What will I say if he asks me? I can’t leave Ticket overnight. But if I say no, I’ll be giving him the wrong signals, won’t I? Can I see him as more than a friend? Maybe it’s too early to tell, I should stop worrying. I never used to worry. Is Edward asking himself the same questions?
‘Can we have the bill, please,’ he asks, fishing his wallet out of the inside pocket of his jacket. ‘No, Cass, this is on me,’ he insists when I produce my debit card.
‘But it’s so expensive.’
‘Costs an arm and a leg,’ Edward jokes. I’m attracted to his dark humour. ‘No arguments,’ he says, before excusing himself to go to the bathroom.
When he’s left our table I catch a glimpse of a black and white photograph in one of the compartments in his wallet. Tentatively I take a peep. It’s a picture of a woman in her twenties, thick wavy hair and heart-shaped mouth. Quickly I place the wallet back on his side of the table, telling myself to stop being nosy. Could she be his sister? No, he said he was an only child.
When Edward returns the bill is presented to us on a small silver platter, accompanied by some dark chocolate mints. I daren’t look at his face as he assesses the damage. He swallows hard, as if to say ‘ouch’.
‘Next time it’s on me,’ I say when he hands his credit card to the waiter.
‘Next time?’ He taps his pin number into the machine.
‘Yeah, next time, but I’m not sure I can compete with this place,’ I say, tucking into a mint. ‘It might have to be McDonald’s.’
Edward raises an eyebrow.
‘Or Pizza Hut,’ I say.
‘With screaming kids?’
‘If you’re lucky.’
He grins. ‘Cass, I’m going away tomorrow, for two weeks, to Cornwall.’
Oh. That’s bad timing. ‘How lovely.’
‘I was wondering if we could meet up again, when I get back?’
*
The traffic is busy on a Friday night, lots of people hailing cabs and groups of friends coming out or going into bars. Edward walks me slowly to my car. The closer we get, the more I sense both of us thinking, ‘What happens now?’
We’re right outside my car. ‘Well, this is me. Thanks so much, that was great.’ I wrap my arms around myself, shivering in the cold night air. ‘Don’t hang about, it takes me ages to sort myself out, you know, to get my chair into the car and—’
Edward leans down to kiss me, possibly just to shut me up. It’s a soft, slow kiss. I kiss him back, loving the closeness and warmth of his face, his stubble grazing my cheeks. When finally we pull apart and he says goodnight, I’m disappointed that this is where our evening ends, but when I see the flirtatious look in his eyes, I realise that maybe this is only the beginning.
‘I’ve had a great time tonight.’
‘Me too.’
‘I’ll call you,’ he says, before kissing me goodnight once more. ‘Until next time.’
‘Next time,’ I say, watching him walk slowly away.
Charlie and I are racing along the Kings Road. We’re going to Peter Jones to look for a sofa. Charlie has decided the one in the sitting room has to go. It sinks in the middle like a soufflé gone wrong. I left Ticket behind today; he doesn’t like department stores. I’m taking him for a long walk later this afternoon with Edward and Tinkerbell. Edward returned from Cornwall a week ago, and I’m surprised by how much I’m looking forward to seeing him again.
‘Slow down, Cass!’ Charlie insists, only making me go faster.
‘Come on, Grandpa,’ I call out to him. ‘Keep up.’ I lift the front wheels up on to the kerb in one fluid movement and push forward. Charlie has tried doing wheelies in my chair in the sitting room – lifting the front wheels and balancing on the back ones – but was unable to understand why he couldn’t do it. I told him that it took me two weeks to master the skill. ‘Two whole weeks,’ I reiterated. ‘It took Dom a week. It would seriously annoy me if you, Mr Perfect, could pick it up in two seconds.’
We enter through a set of double doors and I’m hit by a blast of warm air. ‘Sofas are at the top,’ Charlie tells me, heading for the lifts.
I think of Dom’s latest email. ‘Miranda gets cross with me for going on the escalators. She says I deliberately want to scare the general public.’
‘What are you doing?’ Charlie says as I position myself at the foot of the escalator, near the cushions and rolls of fabric. If Ticket were here he’d hate me for doing this. He’d plant himself on my lap to protect me.
‘Cass, don’t risk it,’ he says.
‘Dom does it.’
‘He was a professional biker. You might hurt yourself.’
I shake my head. Why is it that people fail to realise that I’m broken already? In many ways it makes me want to take more risks. What have I got to lose?
‘Fine.’ Charlie crosses his arms. ‘But I’m not taking you to hospital.’
‘There’s a lift,’ a man beside me points out, ‘over there.’ Then he has the audacity to push me towards it like a baby in a pram. ‘Excuse me?’ I say, turning to face him and noticing Charlie is trying not to laugh. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Sorry,’ he mutters.
‘I’m taking the lift,’ Charlie says, expecting me to follow him. There’s a group of women talking by the escalator and I ask them politely if they could move. A few members of staff walk past, along with a mother and a pair of ginger-haired twins wearing identical football jumpers. One of them stops to watch. ‘Come on, Max!’ the mother says. ‘But, Mummy! I want to watch that girl in the chair!’
Charlie is still waiting by the lift, pretending to ignore me. I have to get my front castors on to the step first, then quickly get the back wheels on, grab both rails and … OH MY GOD. I’m moving!
‘Look, Mum!’ I hear Max crying out. ‘Wow!’
I’m balancing. Can’t look at him. Keep straight ahead. Hold on tight. When I reach the top I turn to Max, still clapping.
‘Thank you!’ I call down to him.
‘Go, dude!’ Max dances, before his mother pulls him off towards the exit doors.
Charlie joins me upstairs. ‘There’s no way you’re going down in that. No way,’ he says.
‘We’ll see.’
*
We test out what seems like the twentieth sofa. ‘Make your mind up,’ I urge him.
‘It needs to be comfortable.’
My mind drifts to Libby and Charlie kissing on the sofa last night. I saw them on my way to the bathroom.
‘We’ve been ages, Charlie.’
‘Ticket will be fine.’
It drives me mad that he knows what I’m thinking.
‘Let’s go for this one.’ I’m in front of a modern cream one. ‘That’ll do.’
‘That’ll do?’
I let out a sigh.
‘He’s just a dog, Cass.’
‘What did you say?’
‘Nothing.’
‘He’s just a dog?’ I repeat like a mother scorned.
‘Sorry.’ A small smile surfaces.
‘I’m hungry,’ I say. ‘Let’s get some lunch, order a sofa and then go.’
*
After a quick lunch Charlie and I wait for a cab outside. I did think about bringing my car but it’s hard to park on a Saturday, even in a disabled slot, and the tube station has no disabled access.
‘Come on!’ I shout, stretching out my arm towards a taxi with its amber light on. It races past us.
‘What are you doing?’
Charlie is covering me with his jacket. ‘Charlie!’ Next I hear an engine stopping and he’s saying that we want to go to Barons Court and then: TA-DAH! The jacket is whisked off and out I come like a rabbit out of a hat. ‘Is she coming too?’ the driver asks.
I’m about to say something but Charlie doesn’t allow me. ‘Yes.’
The driver gets out the ramp, huffing and puffing as if he’s doing me an enormous favour.
‘Why did you do that?’ I ask when we are finally seated in the cab and moving.
‘What?’
‘Hide me under your jacket?’
‘It did the trick, didn’t it?’
‘Right.’
‘You didn’t mind, did you?’
‘It’s fine.’
I stare out of the window.
‘You were the one so anxious to get home, back to Ticket.’
‘Who’s just a dog. Oh look, it doesn’t matter.’
‘Clearly it does.’
‘Well done, Charlie! You saved the day getting me into a taxi because I could never have done it on my own! You’re my hero. Happy now?’
‘No. Not really.’
‘You and the driver were talking as if I wasn’t there.’
‘Fine. Sorry. I won’t do it again.’
We sit in stony silence for the next five minutes before glancing at one another at exactly the same time and then quickly looking away, annoyed we’ve been caught out.
‘Cass?’
‘What?’
‘This is our first lovers’ tiff.’
‘We’re not lovers.’
He rolls his eyes. ‘You know what I mean.’
‘Just shut up.’
‘Won’t say another word.’ He pretends to zip up his mouth. ‘I wasn’t trying to be a hero,’ he says, only seconds later. ‘Look, it could have taken forever and we both wanted to get home. I’m meeting Libby this afternoon and you’re … well … you’re anxious about Ticket, who I know isn’t just a dog, I really didn’t mean it like that.’
‘It’s not just about Ticket.’
‘Right,’ he says, sounding irritatingly like my father.
‘I’m meeting Edward.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, really.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Just out,’ I say.
He waits for more information.
‘We’re meeting for a dog walk. He has a chocolate Lab, Tinkerbell.’
‘Is it like a double date? You and Edward, Ticket and Tinkerbell?’
‘Maybe. Ticket’s bought some flowers. And brushed his teeth.’
Charlie smiles.
‘Then I think we might see a film or something, maybe go out for a meal. What about you?’
‘I think we’re playing tennis or something.’ He downplays it, like he always downplays any sport he takes part in. ‘Then we’re meeting a few of Libby’s friends in Soho. Tell me more about this Edward guy.’
Charlie must sense my reluctance.
‘Do you think it could be serious?’ he continues.
‘I don’t know, maybe. Who knows?’ I hesitate. ‘How about you and Libby?’
‘Yeah. She’s great. Good fun.’
We fall silent once more.
‘I’m sorry about earlier,’ he says. ‘I was patronising and I promise it won’t happen again.’
‘Forget it.’ We shake hands. ‘Deal?’
‘Deal.’
‘Cass?’
‘Yes?’
‘Wear that red top tonight. It really suits you.’