Authors: J.E. Warren
“I know, and I fully respect why you left and why you didn’t want to talk.”
Anna sighs. “We both know I wasn’t exactly grown up about it. I’m sorry for giving you the finger and bolting. I should have at least heard you out.”
“I wish I could rewind back to that night and do it all differently.”
“Look, it’s just—I’m not sure how to explain it, but sometimes I let my mind overtake all rationality and assume the worst. It’s not the first time. You’re lucky I haven’t interrogated you about how many girls you’ve slept with!” she jokes, before regretting the latter part.
Charlie stares at her, and then he clears his throat, takes a sip of beer and says, “Seven.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean you actually had to tell me.”
“Well, if we’re getting everything out in the open I might as well. I don’t like the thought of you worrying about it, because it’s really not that big a deal.”
She swallows hard and tries to smile because she knows that his revelation doesn’t actually help, not least because her number’s slightly higher—which is a first.
“Nine,” she says quickly, eyes back down to focus and catch the condensation from her pint glass.
“Glad we’ve got that off our chests.” He laughs, brushes his hand across her knee under the table. They say no more about ex-partners and past bed hopping, and instead make small, idle chat.
As Charlie talks about how his beer tastes weird and Anna makes another apology for swearing at him, an older gentleman in a flat tweed cap smacks his hand down on the CD selector that’s bolted to one of the corner walls. Both of them jump and roll their eyes as the music he chooses skips all over the place. Another hard smack against the side forces it to get back on track and their once quiet retreat fills with jangly guitars and drumbeats.
“Great timing.”
“It’s actually a pretty solid choice. It’s a good song.”
“I’ve forgotten what we were talking about now.”
“You were apologising for something you didn’t need to, again,” he tells her, with one finger circling the grainy pattern on the oak table.
“Oh right, yeah. I’ve been a right prat to not call or give you the chance to explain. That’s why I wanted to come and see you today. Thought you’d probably ignore me after the way I treated you,” she confesses, her voice caught in her throat because it feels so alien to genuinely want to say sorry. It isn’t often that she admits fault or shoulders blame.
But the truth that Anna has held back from Charlie for his own sake is that it had taken a long lunch break, a bottle of red wine, and Daisy to remind her just how petty and silly she’s been.
Daisy, it turned out, is the best agony aunt she could have wished for. She isn’t one to mince her words or nod and just agree. Instead she’d been firm and cutting with her advice.
Their chat consisted mostly of Daisy gulping down wine and rolling her eyes with expert finesse.
“Did you catch them shagging?” she had asked flatly.
“No.”
“Did you catch him snogging her on the terrace?”
“Well, no.”
“Has he tried to apologise, call, or text you?”
“Sort of.”
“You told me he’s left you voicemails every day, babe.” Daisy had sighed.
“Okay, fine, he has, but still it doesn’t mean anything. Doesn’t change the fact he left me by myself to talk to her.”
“Whatever. His ex sounds like a dick, Anna. What matters is, do you still like him?”
“Of course! If I didn’t, why would I even care what he did?”
“Do you still want to shag him?”
“What? Wait, you can’t ask me that!”
“You don’t, then?” Daisy laughed. “You couldn’t care less if you never saw that gorgeous mop of blond hair again? Never got to hear him serenade you again?”
“I didn’t say that. I mean, I do want to see him, it’s just, well, I’m pissed off.”
True to form, Daisy didn’t mess around or pull any punches, which Anna is now extremely thankful for.
After finishing off the wine and listening to her try and justify why she couldn’t bring herself to call him, Daisy had set her straight.
“Admit it, babe, you really like him, but you enjoy the feeling of being mad at him too because you don’t know how else to deal with it.”
“I’m mad because I should be mad,” Anna had protested.
“Nope. Wrong. Let me tell you something—if I did this to every guy that pissed me off then I’d never
get
any. You think him hugging some vegan twat is the end of the world? Well, it’s not. Trust me when I say Charlie’s one of the good guys, Anna. Be happy with that and don’t make the poor guy’s life a misery just because you want to stew on it for a bit longer, make him jump through hoops. Plus, he is really easy on the eye and has a ton of fit mates so that’s another excellent reason to keep him around!”
Anna didn’t often get tongue-tied but Daisy had managed to render her speechless. It took another glass of wine for it to all sink in, but when it did, it came with the heavy and brutal realisation that she’d been acting completely unreasonable.
That and the fact that Daisy is a great mate who she admires and will be eternally indebted to, because now Anna gets to sit and be with him once more. To enjoy his company and the way he looks up at her like no one else ever has.
“I’m sorry, Charlie.”
“Please, stop apologising. I fear we’re going to go round in circles like this when it’s me who has everything to be sorry for,” he says with a small laugh, jolting her away from staring at him again, lost in thought.
“Forgive and forget?” she offers.
Charlie leans towards her and smiles. “Deal.”
An invisible but painful weight lifts from her conscience and she just wants to put his stupidly beautiful face in her hands and kiss him hard.
“You want to get in a game of pool before they call last orders?” he asks, thwarting her grand plan.
“Go on then,” she replies as the baby pool table at the other end of the pub becomes free. “I’ll warn you now, though, that I’m really crap at it. The pool cues are always too big and my hand-eye coordination skills are way off.”
“Should be an easy win, then.”
“All right, don’t brag just yet, mister! You never heard of beginner’s luck?” Anna teases, carrying over their belongings to the grassy green felt table.
Charlie teases her right back because that’s how lucky she is, she thinks—to have someone to match her snark and wit without hesitation.
“Have you never heard of being a student before? I must have spent most of my University loan brushing up on my pool skills. In between copious amounts of drinking, of course.”
When he fishes for a fifty pence piece and slots it into the machine, she grabs the rack and colourful balls. Attempts to line them all properly, but gives up when he tells her that there’s at least four missing.
Still, they make an effort to play, careful not to jab the cues into the walls or each other, which proves difficult, as space on either side of the table is severely limited.
Charlie looks like he’s going to keel over and die of laughter when she almost smashes her drink off the side shelf to completely miss her first shot.
“Remember who’s holding the cue right now…” she says, pretending to poke him in the bum, secretly enjoying the view of him bent over the table to line up his own impossible shot.
She realises that she’s never going to get any better at the game when her opponent makes eyes at her over the table. Has to remind herself that there are other people in the pub with them as the thought of pinning him against the wall to kiss his neck becomes too much.
After a particularly disastrous shot, he offers her some help and advice. Naturally she messes up in spite of his friendly tip to aim for the centre of the ball.
She can’t take him seriously though, not when he’s right behind her, chest heavy against her back and arms over hers, sharing the cue. Seven odd days without a glimpse of Charlie has hindered her ability to think straight.
“Are you trying to aim for the door?” he jokes when she still can’t hit the damn thing. He stops laughing when she whacks the ball like a mad woman and sends it flying off the green felt, straight into his groin.
“Shit, I’m sorry! Here, let me come over and rub it better.”
The blush escaping from his cheeks lets her know that she hasn’t lost her effect on him, even if she is much too loud and brash and crude for her own good.
“You’re actually crazy,” he says, potting the black. “But I love it.”
Dizzy with the glow of being back in his company, Anna suggests they stay for one more drink, which turns into two and then three, until the barman rings the bell on them and politely requests they leave.
***
Out on the street, the drizzle and bitter chill keep them from walking all the way back, so Charlie offers to catch the Tube with her, because he’s a gentleman. With warm hands and a cute bum.
The ride back is quick and fun as they stop to applaud a lone busker by the ticket barriers. He plays them a speedy version of “Tiny Dancer” in exchange for loose change and Charlie spins her by the tip of her finger like a tipsy ballerina until she can’t see straight.
Up on the stairs, he lifts her over the last step and detours through the station.
“We need to go the other way. You can’t get out of the side entrance at this time of night,” Anna says, pointing to the large iron clock above them. All four sides show that it’s incredibly late, close to midnight.
He laughs, stops her by putting his hands gently on her shoulders. “I know.”
“The gates over there are locked now, we have to go all the way around—” She doesn’t get to finish her sentence. She doesn’t even get the chance to realise what’s right in front of her until his lips are pressed to hers.
One of his hands cups the side of her face as the other brushes away her hair. Again he kisses her. Soft and hard. Then all at once. Anna thinks that she might have left her feet somewhere because she can’t feel the once-solid ground beneath her.
As Charlie’s mouth gently nibbles her bottom lip, she tastes hops and salt—both curiously delicious and oddly moreish. It reminds her of their first kiss, sparked by champagne and lust.
“Happy Friday, Anna,” he whispers, in sync with the clock chime as it strikes twelve. “I know it’s not quite the same as wishing you a Happy New Year, but I do love you.”
And for the second time, a strange but intriguing thing happens. Anna is once again left utterly and wonderfully speechless.
Charlie
February 14
th
2009
Dusting the top of the strawberry cheesecake, unable to hold the sieve and packet steady, Charlie gives up and realises that he’s maybe bitten off more than he can chew.
The squash still needs squashing and he’s not even sure how to turn plain rice into a creamy risotto as per the picture in the recipe book. A smug-looking Jamie Oliver instructs him to add more garlic and even more peppers, red shiny onions instead of the type he’s got, and it’s exhausting.
It’s by far the most elaborate meal he’s made and he’s not done yet. The rickety table in the kitchen still has to be laid out with cutlery and the fancy mats he’d bought at the pound shop, along with cheap champagne glasses still in a plastic bag.
Earlier on in the partyware aisle getting last minute bits, he’d felt a small panic attack come on. Born from the stress of wanting to get Valentine’s Day just right. To really impress Anna with his knack for cooking and ability to make his shitty little flat seem romantic. The fistful of pink confetti he’d snatched up at the checkout seemed like the one ingredient crucially missing.
Turns out there are a lot of other more important elements to consider. Like having a stove that actually works and a flat that doesn’t turn every breath into frosty particles.
Charlie thinks he’s going to have to heat up the place with candles and some Barry White if he can’t get the thermostat to switch back on. Usually he would ask his flat mate Lucas to take a look but he seems a little preoccupied. Still busy arguing with his girlfriend Sophia in the bedroom like he has been all afternoon.
Every time Charlie hears something else get hurled against the flimsy plaster wall, he feels thankful not to be dating a fiery and insane Brazilian woman or a hench, equally fiery and temperamental Brazilian barista like Lucas.
Their fights would usually drag on, as he’d come to witness, and this gave him cause to worry. He needed the flat vacant come seven o’clock so he could wine and dine Anna.
He begins to wonder why he hasn’t actually heard anything from her since the early morning. She’d not replied to any of his messages, which isn’t like her—Anna, who acts like she was practically born with a phone in her hand.
Panicking again, the pit of his stomach filling with anxiety at the thought of it all turning horribly wrong, Charlie doesn’t even realise that the timer on the oven’s gone off or that his phone’s ringing on the kitchen table until it’s too late.
He abandons the simmering rice and dashes to pick the phone up, cursing the fact it’s rung off before he can answer. Anna’s two missed calls let him know that he needs to take a deep breath and get his act together before he combusts all over the lovingly prepared dessert. Eventually he manages to dial in her number with his cold fingertips.
“Charlie! Finally, I’ve been trying to get hold of you.” The alarm in her voice sets his pulse racing again.
“I’m sorry, got a little caught up here. Remind me never to offer to cook again, please.”
“Crap. Are you cooking now? Is dinner still on?” Anna asks.
He hears her sigh heavily as he continues to stir the rice with one hand.
“Okay, well, I have to be real quick as I’m calling you on the sly while charging my phone in some fancy-pants coffee shop because my battery died. Can you believe it? What shit timing, especially since it’s Valentine’s Day and what not. It’s actually madness, Charlie, how a bit of snow can bring so much chaos.”
“
Snow
?”
“Yeah, snow.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Have you not looked out the window all afternoon or something?” she says as he immediately draws up the kitchen blinds. With his nose against the small window, he strains to see out into the darkness until his eyes settle on the flurry of white flakes that line the road and cars outside.
“Holy shit.”
“Tell me about it, that’s pretty much everyone else’s reaction too.” Anna laughs.
He stares in awe as the winds sweep past the window, dumping down a fresh coating of white stuff like a broken sieve full of icing sugar.
“I’ve had the blinds down all afternoon to keep in some heat,” he replies, feeling stupid for being so unaware of the snow outside, too lost in crushing garlic cloves to notice.
She chuckles and says, “Glad I could get you up to speed. It’s being total hell out here. It started just before it got dark and of course it’s like we’ve never had snow before. Nightmare. The tubes are now overcrowded and some are shut. I was going to try the buses but they’re packed and all the roads are covered with ice and slush.”
“So you’re at a coffee shop?” he asks whilst battling again with the pan of rice. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Tried to get to yours on foot but it’s too busy and I had no way of letting you know I was going to be late. Decided it would be better to hole up for a bit until it eases off or least till my phone’s got a bit more life in it.”
“Don’t rush, just stay safe and warm.” He wishes he could be there instead of listening to the argument next door. Or watching in horror how his risotto is overcooking. “If it gets any worse we can do this again another day, no problem.”
“I’m so sorry, Charlie. Have you gone to a lot of effort to cook?” Anna sighs. “I was looking forward to sampling it all. Wanted to give you a good grilling like they do on
Masterchef
!”
He laughs, pretends it’s not a problem and that he’s not been slaving away, pulling his hair out for hours. “It’s all right, don’t worry. Nothing special.”
He hears her groan and yell loudly down the speaker. “Bloody snow! It’s only a couple of flakes. Christ, you’d think it’s like
The Day After Tomorrow
or something the way people are acting. Some guy actually held on to me as he came out of a shop. There were kids trying to ice skate on the Trafalgar Fountain—idiots!”
Anna’s right, he thinks, remembering how ridiculous it is that the city all but grinds to a halt once a bit of ice and snow appear. How it throws sane people into fits of insanity, scared to be stranded without being able to get home. Rushing to cram into Tube stations, onto trains.
If Charlie had been like most people he would maybe have seen it coming or had forewarning. In a nation obsessed with all things weather, he liked to buck the trend and paid little attention to scaremongering forecasts.
He’d known it was colder than normal, or so it had been said, but London was a cold, bitter old city in the winter and he’s gotten used to feeling the chill.
“Do you think you’ll be able to make it later, or will you just go home?” he asks. “It might be a sensible idea.”
“Not sure. Both are equally as far, but home doesn’t have anyone I can squish up to for warmth so I am swaying more towards yours at this point.” Anna giggles.
“Shall I save food?”
“Nah, sorry, babe. I’ve brought a panini, which is now lukewarm and cost a fortune. Had to get something because I’m stealing their electricity and Wi-Fi.”
“Anna, we can do it another time.”
“I want to see you, silly, sure I’ll survive the walk to yours if I go slow.”
Charlie feels a little deflated as he scans all the food and mess, thinking it’s such a waste.
“Right, I’ve got to go so I can eat this thing and charge my phone. I’ll let you know when I’m leaving, so if I don’t turn up you can send out a search party in case I’ve ended up frozen trying to cross over the Millennium Bridge,” she jokes before saying a quick goodbye.
It leaves him in a predicament. As he moves everything over to the bin, scooping out just enough risotto to keep him from feeling hungry, the bedroom door swings open and Sophia comes bounding out. She grabs her coat and earmuffs from the sofa, slams the front door shut behind her. He watches as Lucas follows shortly after, head in his hands.
“Women are crazy,” Charlie hears him mutter as he takes a seat at the small table.
Because he’s not familiar with talking to his flat mate of two years much, he just nods awkwardly in agreement and says, “Sorry, dude.”
He can’t remember the last time they actually spoke apart from the odd grunt and request for rent to be paid.
“Smells good,” Lucas replies, eyeing up the pan over by the bin.
Charlie’s not sure why he feels the need to say it, but the words leave his mouth before his brain catches up. “You want to maybe have some with me?”
As Lucas shrugs his shoulders and grunts “why not?” and Charlie laughs. It’s not quite how he’d envisioned Valentine’s Night to go, but he doesn’t really have any choice. It feels like a shame to let it all go to waste.
So with a pokey table full of confetti and burnt squash risotto, he sits opposite burly, bearded Lucas. They make small talk about coffee beans, work. Not quite the riveting dinner conversation he’d had in mind, but he rolls with it all the same if only to bide time until Anna’s arrival, which feels imminent. She’s sent through a steady stream of updates to his phone on her whereabouts for the past hour.
Anna: Made it across the bridge. Thought I walked on black ice. Just tarmac—phew!
Followed swiftly by:
Anna: Someone’s making a snow angel in the park. Lunatic. But the end is in sight, frozen stiff love from your Ice Ice Baby.
Charlie waits patiently for her to show once Lucas clears the dishes and mumbles about going to Sophia’s for the night to make amends.
“Surprise!” Anna shouts, throwing a fast-melting snowball when he opens the door forty-odd minutes later.
He quickly brushes off the flakes and pulls her inside. Hands her a freshly made mug of sweet tea—three sugars, tons of milk, just how she loves it, and a slice of strawberry cheesecake for good measure.
“You’re the best.” She smiles, still in her scarf and jacket. “The thought of seeing you and having a cup of hot tea kept me going out on those treacherous icy streets babe.”
He laughs, points to the houses outside now topped with snowy roofs. “It’s almost as cold in here as it is out there, or so it looks.”
Anna holds her mug tight. “Can we just get all the blankets and duvets and tuck ourselves up on the sofa, watch some cheesy Valentine’s film, and not move, ever?”
Kissing the pinks of her cheeks, he nods and promises whatever she wants.
***
After Anna’s got blood flow back in her fingers and toes, Charlie pulls out a duvet from the airing cupboard along with an old hot water bottle. He fills it with boiling water and makes a cosy nest for them both on the sofa.
With her cold cheek against his, she takes control of the remote and flicks endlessly through channels.
“Titanic? Not exactly romantic, is it? Some bird hogging a wardrobe door whilst her lover just holds on for dear life before eventually freezing to death. Poor sod.”
“Don’t make me watch this, please.” He laughs, not wanting to give up hours of his time only to watch a ship sink. “My sister used to be obsessed with this film, drove me nuts.”
Anna continues to channel hop until she settles on a different film. She turns to him and says with her brown eyes wild, grin wide, “Now this is more like it.”
He doesn’t even ask what it is, just watches as she snuggles in deeper beneath his arms.
Times passes quickly as the young couple on the screen lark about a little too much for Charlie’s liking and act melodramatic. Anna appears to love it. She clears her throat hard during one scene and he’s sure his hand by her cheek catches some of her quiet tears.
“Charlie, you’re good with your hands—fancy building me a really grand house? Maybe grow out your stubble?” she says later, nodding towards the screen.
“This film isn’t realistic at all, Anna. How could he build that all by himself with no money and still find the time to look so rugged?”
“He does it because he loves her and hopes it’ll win back her affection.”
“Why don’t they just call each other or send mail? Seems like a lot of hassle to build a fancy house and not know if she’ll actually appreciate it.”
“She does, trust me.” Anna laughs deeply and he feels it ripple through his body. “Stop nitpicking and just watch.”
He sighs and gives in. Thinks that if he’s quiet she won’t notice when his eyes inevitably drop. But as the minutes tick by he hears her breath begin relax until she’s snoring away like a trooper.
Holding her in his arms, legs intertwined and tangled, Charlie strokes her hair back and closes his eyes.
“Love you,” she whispers sleepily, burying her face into his chest. “I do, you know.”
He believes it, feels sure she does, and it warms his heart in a way no duvet or hot water bottle ever could.