Love & London by Ellie White

CHAPTER SIX

I reluctantly push on the doors of The George to find Laura, Helen, Harry and Simon sat at our regular table. I can't see Jake anywhere but his coat is hung on the end of the booth so I know he’s here somewhere, probably with James.

I throw my bag down on the table with a thud, yank off my jacket and take the empty spot next to Laura.

"Didn't go well then?" she asks, smirking.

When I called James and told him what happened, I asked him to let the others know so I wouldn't have to relive the embarrassment. All I can do in response to Laura's question is groan as I shut my eyes, hiding my face in my arms on the table. I knew I would have to face it so I might as well get it over with.

"Alright, Maggs?” Jake happily says as he sits down next to me. I can hear him grinning, loving every second of being right. "You look like you could use this." He slides a fresh pint of cider towards me.

I drink the pint in a few un-lady-like gulps to the utter dismay of my friends. Yeah, I needed that.

"Nice," Jake remarks as I return my head to the table and bang it against the wood, repeatedly trying my best not to burp after having the gassy drink.

"So... how did it go?" Harry asks, tentatively. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I got arrested Harry, how do you think it went!?" My words are muffled as my head is still buried in my arms.

"Walk us through it," Jake says, pulling me to sit by my shoulders and rubbing his hand on my back before settling it on the nape of my neck. I relax against his warm touch. I needed that too.

"He downed a double vodka Red Bull and 2 shots of Tequila within 30 seconds of him turning up late. He couldn't stop staring at our waitress - who was lovely, by the way - then tried to grab another waitress' arse. He also advised me that I would never be able to change him and that he would be dating other women. And, if that wasn't the worst part, he then disappeared to the toilet for ages and came out in handcuffs, escorted by armed police with white powder all over his face. The police seemed extremely interested in me, too, thought I was in on 'it', whatever 'it' was. I didn't ask. They only let me go when I told the policeman everything and he took pity on me because he’s a widower, too, and got catfished on Tinder a few years ago," I say in one breath, trying not to leave anything out.

Everyone sits, listening to me in shock. Their mouths open as they struggle to find the words.

Finally, Jake opens his mouth to speak but I quickly interrupt him. "Don't say it," I warn, knowing where his thoughts are.

"But I did say it was a bad idea."

I can't argue with him. That is what he said to me. I groan and rest my head on his shoulder as he gently rubs my arm, trying to reassure me.

"You know, they say it takes 5 bad dates before you have a good one."

"Do they?" I ask him, not knowing if I can handle more dates like that.

"No, I made it up." He smirks.

"Asshat," I fire back at him which he returns with his best laugh. He liked it which makes me smile again. I'm happy he seems to be out of his bad mood.

"Pool table just opened up," James says as he and Jake stand again, making their way across to the pool table.

"Chin up, Maggs," Jake says, all joking aside and softly lifting my face with his index finger as he gives me his best smile.

"We're going to the bar. Do you want anything?" Harry asks, taking Simon's hand.

"Yeah, another pint, please."

"One for me, please," Helen says as Laura just shakes her empty glass at him with a grin.

"They are so adorable," Laura says as she stares dreamily at them. "Harry told me he thinks he's in love with Simon."

"That’s quick, isn't it?" I ask.

"I knew the moment I met James that I was in love with him," Helen says, shrugging. "It just took him a little longer to figure it out."

"Has Jake been okay tonight?" I ask, trying to sound casual but, by the look they gave each other, I think they might have a suspicion something is up between us.

"Ugh, no, he’s been in the worst mood all night," Laura answers.

"He kept angry texting on his phone. We couldn't see who it was to but it was a long message and then he just deleted it, sent another message and slammed his phone down." Helen tucks her head down slightly, lowered her voice. "He and James went to sit at the bar for a while to talk. I think James knows more than he lets on, though. Their talk must have worked because, when he came back, he was in a better mood. That was about 20 minutes ago."

"He was fine all afternoon and then he just got all weird on me when he left for the day. I don't know what got into him but he didn't even wait for me and we usually go home together. He's been ignoring my messages all evening yet, now, seems to be my bestie again," I explain.

"I swear men suffer from PMS. James can be insufferable at times, too, but I just feed him and it seems to help," Helen says with a shrug.

"Something must have bothered him and he's taken it out on you. God knows who he was angry texting. You'll have to ask James and let us know," Laura says to Helen.

We turn to the subject of TV as Simon and Harry return with our drinks. They've all been bingeing Line of Duty, ready for the new season coming out this year. I haven't had time to keep up so they try and talk about it in code. I laugh at the explanations they are giving each other, the theories they share and it obviously works because they are following each other and I have no idea what they are talking about.

"You seem in a better mood. You going to tell me what was wrong earlier?" I ask Jake as I stand at the pool table, waiting for my turn. Jake is winning and James is not happy about it.

"We're good, Maggs."

"Because if it was something I did, then you should really tell me."

"It was me, I just - I'm sorry I took it out on you."

I'm not convinced but what can I do if he won't talk to me? "You know, you can talk to me, right? If something is bothering you…" I say but decide to leave it at that when my brother hands me the pool cue.

"You and me, Maggs," Jake says with a wink. "Shall we make this interesting?"

"Depends on  what you have in mind."

"The loser has to do karaoke the next time it's on?"

I straighten up. I used to love singing karaoke. Philip and I would always take to the stage at any chance we got, even if we were no good.

"I don't know, Jake."

"What happened to saying yes…?” he trails off as I lean over the table to break.

"Eyes up, Jake," I say striking the cue ball hard and potting three balls. I can't blame him for staring; my date night dress leaves little to the imagination when it comes to cleavage.

"You're trying to distract me."

"Is it working?" I say, nudging him out of the way with my hip to take aim and pot another ball.

"That's not fair," he says his voice a pitch higher. "And it won't work… Loser sings!"

“What isn’t fair is that you picked the bet, knowing you have a great singing voice. I, on the other hand, do not.”

At least Philip was just as bad as I was at singing so it didn’t matter when we both sounded as terrible as each other; we’d laugh all the way through the song anyway.

“You don’t do karaoke to sound good, you do it because it’s hilarious!”

“A-ha!” I say, triumphant. “So, you are doing it because you know I can’t sing.”

“Maggs, if you wear a dress like that, no one will care that you can’t sing… Believe me.”

I'm feeling confident when I'm down to my last ball before the black and Jake still has most of his on the table. I take my shot and miss.

Jake stands up straighter and gently chalks his cue. He clears his throat and calmly bends to set up his shot.

Although it’s a cold evening, it’s warm in the pub. He’s wearing a black t-shirt that stretches perfectly over his toned, muscular upper arms and dark jeans that fit him perfectly.

After he pots his first ball, I know I've been hustled. He effortlessly pots each ball, one after the other as I stand there, looking on in disbelief. I really thought I was winning.

He smiles up at me and winks before potting the black ball.

"Asshat."

"Two can play games, Maggs." I’m not going to lie, it felt good seeing him check me out as I bent over the pool table as seductively as I possibly could.

"Maybe I wasn't playing a game," I say suggestively, the alcohol consumption of the evening catching up on me, giving me a false sense of confidence.

“What if I said I liked it?” he says, flirting back. I wonder how far I can push it before its inappropriate but Jake interrupts my thoughts. "Come on, loser. Next round is on me."

We go to the bar and order everyone’s drinks and our flirting turns back to our usual banter.

"I've got an idea for you, Maggie. Why don't we set you up on dates?" Harry says to me as we sit down at the table again. He’s bouncing in his seat, getting excited which can only mean I am not going to like his suggestion.

"That's a great idea." Laura grins. "I know a lovely man that comes into the bakery every morning who would be perfect for you."

"I am playing no part in this," Jake says, noticeably sliding away from me, his shoulders tense again as he holds his hands up in surrender.

"Why not, Jake? I think it's a great idea," James says, smiling as Jake glares at him.

"His name is Sam," Laura continues. "And he is a children's TV presenter. He's very handsome and such a sweetheart. I think you’ll love him."

Jake rolls his eyes when Laura, James, Harry and Simon instantly go into planning mode around me. I barely listen, I'm too busy trying to read Jake who’s gone back to sulking in silence.

"Cylvie!" Helen shouts with a wave as I let out a groan. "She's promised to be on her best behaviour," she quietly adds for my benefit now that she knows what a bitch she was to me the other night.

"You know what, I'll take one for the team," Jake says, pushing himself up with two hands on table. He finishes his drink in one and walks away, leaving me baffled for the second time today.

I look at Helen and Laura for support but they both shrug, unable to answer to my unspoken questions. My stomach sinks when he strolls up to Cylvie, turning his charm up to maximum level and puts his arm around her shoulder. She arches her body into his, giggling and I instantly want to stab cocktail sticks in my eyes so I never have to see her again. Obviously, that would be over dramatic so, instead, I go for a childish reaction which is to pick up my bag, finish my drink before slamming my glass on the table and going home, alone.

Unfortunately for me, Cylvie gets the last unspoken word in when she runs her bony fingers up Jake's bicep, wrapping her long arms around his neck as he tightens his hold on her tiny waist. The piece de resistance is when she leans into his ear to whisper something to him and winks right at me. She thinks she's won a game I wasn't really playing to begin with.

Suddenly, I feel drained, I don't have the energy to wonder why I care so much about Jake and Cylvie. All I want is to do is to curl up in my comfiest pyjamas, order a takeaway and find something binge worthy to watch on Netflix.

***

After the shitty night I'd had on my date and Jake's ever-changing mood swings giving me whiplash, all I wanted to do was hide under my warm duvet. I wanted to sleep all day in the hope that, when I woke up, everything would have been a really, really, bad dream.

Alas, it was not. It was very much real life.

The awful date, Cylvie draping her unfairly gorgeous self around Jake and the thoughts of what probably happened after I left fill my brain, causing me to smother my face in my pillow. Not like I have the right to an opinion on the matter. He's a single, consenting man and he can shag whoever he wants.

Just… why does it have to be her? And why do I care?

It's probably because I can't bear to see Cylvie's face in the pub every Friday night and I don't want her hanging around my office all the time if they start dating. That's it.

I groan as my phone vibrates for the ten millionth time this morning. Maybe, if I pull the covers back over my head, I can go back to sleep and continue ignoring people. I used to be so good at that.

I had almost started dreaming again when I am pulled from my unconsciousness once more. This time, it was to the sound of my doorbell buzzing. I groan and make my way through the living room as I huff and puff in annoyance to answer the door to my unwelcome visitor. I pause to pick up my phone on the way from the breakfast bar.

Twelve missed calls from Jake, probably wondering why I didn't stick around last night to see him paw all over the spawn of Satan.

"Hello," I answer the buzzer that opens the outside door to my flat.

"Did you forget?" Jake asks me.

"What?"

"Buzz me in."

I pause for a second before pressing the button that opens the main door and leave the door to my flat open so he can let himself in.

I bought this flat a year after Philip died. Before then, we had been living with my parents while we looked for a home of our own that we never got around to buying. After the accident, I needed help for a little while but found that I wasn’t getting the independence I needed to heal when I had Mum looking after me, helping me walk, feeding me and doing my washing. It's only a small, one bedroom flat with an open plan kitchen/living space and a small bathroom off the bedroom but it's enough for me. It's homely and it's obvious a woman lives here alone. Candles on every available surface, photographs on the walls, cushions and blankets pretty much everywhere and a fridge filled with more wine bottles and chocolate than actual food.

"You forgot," he says as he shuts the door behind him, looking at me in my pyjamas and unbrushed bed hair. "Unless you want to go outside wearing Hufflepuff pyjamas? I would have thought you would identify more as a Ravenclaw since you're so clever."

I ignore his knowledge of Hogwarts houses and his poor attempt at flattery. Instead, I turn back to make my way to the kitchen. He follows me as I turn on my coffee machine.

"I didn't forget I just… I figured you'd be busy. With Cylvie. Coffee?" I ask, holding up a mug and hoping I didn't sound as harsh in real life as it sounded in my head.

"Are you kidding?" he says, turning me to face him. "She's awful to you every time she’s around and you'd already had a rough night. I figured that I’d have the best chance of distracting her and keeping her away from you given the fact she's tried to get in my pants for the better part of 10 years."

"So, to get her off my back, you put her on hers?" I snap. God, why am I so mad about this? They're grown, consenting adults and it's really none of my business.

I turn again to make us a coffee. He didn’t say that he wanted one but I know him well enough to know he won't turn it down.

"For Christ sake, I didn't shag Cylvie," he almost shouts at me.

"What?" I ask, unable to look at him.

"I didn't have sex with Cylvie," he says, turning me around to face him again. This time, he doesn't let go so I'm forced to look at him. "I took her to get a drink to keep her away from you then I saw you storm out so I ditched her at the bar with Helen and went home. Alone. I tried to ring you last night to see if I could come and talk to you but you didn't answer."

Well, shit. That brings me back down to earth with a bump.

"So, now that we have that cleared up, can you go and get dressed? We've got plans."

I do as I'm told, feeling terribly embarrassed and a little guilty for thinking the worst.

I quickly shower, get dressed and put on my make-up while Jake lounges on my bed, idly watching TV.

"Man, I have got to get me one of these beds," he says, admiring the fact the TV rises out of the foot of the bed. When I told him about it, he was like a kid at Christmas, inspecting every inch of it before making himself incredibly comfortable on my side.

"Are you going to tell me why you we're so upset at the thought of Cylvie and me together?" he asks, watching me in my dressing table mirror as I brush my freshly blow-dried hair.

"No. It's stupid"

"I'm not disputing that... I'm 99.9% sure it's stupid," he says, taunting me.

"I'll tell you if you tell me who you were angry texting last night at the pub, Helen and Laura told me."

He sighs as he combs his fingers through his hair, probably weighing up whether or not telling me is worth opening up. It's the only way I can think of avoiding the subject of Cylvie because, I'll be honest, I really don't know why I'm so against her. Yeah, she is mean and cruel but, deep down, I want her approval, I want her to like me. I've always been the type of person who needs validation, the type of person that needs to be liked by everyone. As far as I'm aware, I've done nothing to offend her and, yet, she constantly cuts me down. It grates on me.

Yeah, like I said, stupid.

"I was texting you," he finally says. I really didn't expect this conversation to continue so I turn on my stool to face him.

"Me? Why?" I say, taken by surprise.

"The whole you-on-a-date thing took me off guard. You're my friend, Maggs, and I know we haven't had a great relationship for a few years but you're still one of my oldest and best friends and you didn't tell me you were dating again. I care about you. I want you to be safe. I know that the decision to start dating must have been a hard one to make. I just want you to know that you can talk to me about anything and, since we've spent every recent waking moment either together or talking to each other, I didn't expect you to keep that a secret from me. I don't know what else to say other than ‘I'm sorry’."

"Oh," is all I can muster in response to him.

I turn back to face my dressing table mirror and busy myself with my mascara while I digest what he's said.

"She's not good enough for you," I say, grabbing his attention again and meeting his eyes in mirror. "She is mean and narcissistic and you deserve better. You deserve someone who is honest and kind and brings out the best in you."

"I don't know about that. I've not been the best behaved myself when it comes to women."

"Everyone makes mistakes, we've all done things we're not proud of. You should focus on the person you are now, not the person you once were, because the Jake you are now deserves the world."

"Is that what you're doing? Focusing on who you are now?"

"I'm trying to. It would help if I knew who I was anymore," I admit. "I'm still figuring that part out."

***

After our honest talk in my flat, Jake and I spend the day slowly wandering around Borough Market, all tensions left behind. He links my arm through his as we peruse the different stalls, aimlessly trying to narrow down what we want to eat for lunch. There is just far too much choice.

The smell of delicious world food fills the air and, with every moment that passes, my stomach growls louder and louder in protest. I never did order that take away last night, settling for a packet of chocolate Hobnobs and a Cherry Bakewell, instead.

Okay, three Cherry Bakewells but I'd had a bad night so I was comfort eating.

"Can you just pick something, please?" Jake begs me. "You're making some strange noises over there."

"Okay... Paella," I say, eventually making up my mind.

"I don't like seafood," he moans.

"You can get something else, you know? We don't have to eat the same thing," I argue.

"But, if I get something you like, you'll want some which isn't fair on me, is it?" he whines on. "You know I can't say no to you when you want feeding."

I laugh because it's true. I often get FOMO when it comes to food and he always shares with me even when he doesn't want to.

"Has anyone ever told you that you act like a toddler when you're hungry?" I say. He looks at me with the cutest pet lip and I can't stop the laughter bubbling up again.

"Okay, fine, you decide. What do you want to eat?" I ask, slowly like I'm talking to a child.

"I feel like pizza," he eventually says.

"Okay, you get pizza and I'll get a spag bol and we can split them."

He agrees so I quickly take his hand and lead him back through the crowd to the Italian stall we walked past about an hour ago.

"I feel like I need to remind you that I'm lactose intolerant so we will either have to pick vegan cheese or go cheeseless."

"I know, Jake, I remember."

We pick up our food and walk towards the river to a secluded bench in Sarah Ballantyne Square. Although it's a bit cold and gloomy, the rain and wind thankfully hold off.

"This was the best idea you've had today," he says, taking a bite of our cheese-less pizza.

"I have those, occasionally."

My phone noisily vibrates for the umpteenth time today.

"What is going on with your phone?" Jake asks.

I just groan as I look at the screen. Yet more dick pics. Great.

He takes my phone off me and his face drops when he notices what it is.

"Okay, I am taking you off this bloody app. How many of those have you gotten?" he says, holding it up to my face to unlock it.

"Please do. I lost count at thirty-five or something."

He looks horrified and, after a few minutes of silently seething to himself, he hands my phone back.

"There, your profiles are deleted and apps are uninstalled."

"Thanks. It should have been the first thing I did when I got home last night," I say, putting my phone away again and returning to our food.

***

After we polished off the very last bite of our delicious lunch, we went back to the market to pick up some produce and then went in search of a pub. I was parched after a day of walking around the busy market and our arms ached after being loaded down with bags of amazing food.

I couldn't leave without stocking up on the freshest fruit I've ever seen: It makes the fruit in the supermarket look like scraps. Not to mention the enormous cakes we passed on our way out that I had to buy! Jake insisted on buying burgers to make for our dinner tonight so we picked the plumpest tomatoes and the best potatoes we could find at the greengrocers along with some deliciously smelling, fresh bread buns to complete our meal.

We hid away in the warm, cosy pub for hours until we decided we were almost too drunk to cook and had better make our way back to Jake’s flat.

I had never been in Jake's flat before tonight and it's surprising how neat and tidy it is for a bachelor pad, especially considering the chaos his side of our office is in. He has bookshelves full of DVDs, CDs and all of the old vinyl records he's collected over the years. When I question if he has a need for CDs and DVD's (since he already has subscriptions to 4 different TV and movie streaming platforms plus Amazon Music) his answer is simple.

"What if the Internet went down?" he proposes. I can't fault his logic.

I pull out a CD and smile as the memories hit me. "You still have this CD?"

"Uh, yes, it's amazing!"

I mess about with his CD player, select track two and the Fratellis' 'Chelsea Dagger' plays on the surround sound. The music takes me back to a time where we had no worries and trauma didn't haunt me on a daily basis.

"I used to love this song," I say, grinning. "You would always have it playing in your car when you would pick us up from school after you had finished sixth form. Everyone thought you we're so cool because you listened to Indie Rock, wore a leather jacket and drove an old, shitty Citroen Saxo."

"Good because I thought I was so cool."

"The girls in my year would go crazy wanting to wait with me, Philip and Laura so they could catch a small glimpse of you."

"Teenage girls are apparently easy to please if all it took was me turning up in my shitty car."

"Every girl in our school fancied you and James. It was all I heard about for years; horny teenage girls talking about what they wanted to do to my brother and best friend." I pretend to wretch at the thought.

He laughs because he knows it's true. He knew that, back then, everyone fancied him and he loved it.

"You know, you were pretty cool, too. The way you'd immediately jump up and dance whenever the Arctic Monkeys would come on the radio.  You’d wear your short skirts, even in the winter, and those white sand shoes you'd get from the army surplus shop in town. You always looked way better than the girls who'd walk around with a face full of cheap make-up and fake designer clothes and handbags they'd buy in Benidorm on their summer holidays."

His compliment makes me smile. I don't tell him how much I envied those girls growing up, how I still envy girls like that. Like Cylvie. Except, with her, the fake stuff is most definitely designer fresh from Milan, Paris or New York and her make-up is expertly applied by the best make-up artists in the country.

I had forgotten all about those shoes until he brought it up. They were the most comfortable shoes I'd ever owned and I insisted on wearing them everywhere. My style hasn’t changed that much. Even now, when I am not working, I opt for skinny jeans and my worn-out Adidas Gazelles. I wear high heels and expensive dresses for work but it's the last thing I want to wear on a weekend.

Jake connects his phone to the speakers and searches for a suitable playlist while I open the bottle of red wine we bought at one of the stalls today. We get started on cooking our burgers as we sing along and dance in the kitchen to late noughties Indie Rock anthems. It's surprising how many of the words we remember considering I haven't listened to this music in years. Jake appoints me sous chef and I happily help by chopping the potatoes into chips, ready to go in the air fryer.

"For a man who eats out a lot, you have all the kitchen gadgets, don't you?" I say, looking around his kitchen at the various appliances.

"I love cooking, I just don't have the time to do it very often. Mum taught me how to cook and bake so I used to help her all the time when we were growing up. Dad would go off to the football on a weekend and I preferred to stay home and bake a cake or pie or whatever else with Mum."

"I always remember you being a mummy's boy. It's really sweet."

"I always have been a mummy's boy. I'm not ashamed to admit it," he says, smiling.

"I loved spending time with my dad and I always wanted to be just like him but I was a mummy's girl. She's my best friend… Or she was, at least. I just wish I had time to go out there more often than I do."

"My mum misses you, too, you know? She talks about you all the time. Every time she calls me, you'reat the top of her list of questions. You and Laura are like daughters to her."

I think about that for a second. I really should make the effort and spend more time with Mum and Jake's Mum, Margaret, as well as Laura's mum, Angie. I make a mental note to plan a girl’s day sometime soon, maybe to the theatre. We always said we'd go see Mamma Mia but never got around to it. I get excited thinking about how much fun we used to have on our nights out and quickly text Laura my plan to search online for tickets in the morning.

I know it'll make our mums happy but, not only that, it’ll make me happy, too.