doesn’t matter, I don’t need to pee anyway. I lean over and grip the sink with both hands.
There’s a table of women behind that door and they look normal and they sound normal but, like me, they spend every day applying the same veneer of normal over the huge struggle to get over what shouldn’t have happened to them. The endorphins from the exercise still pump through me. They mingle with this newfound feeling of … belonging. I smile as I stand up and look at myself in the mirror. My face is still red from too much exercise but it glows.
I exude Gretel.
I wave and she waves back at me. ‘We’re going to be late to meet Joshua,’ I tell her.
She shrugs through the reflective glass.
The sky belches an angry rumble of thunder as I drag myself away from the pub. ‘I will so be at the class next week, thank you, thank you.’
I’m scrolling through my phone crammed with new numbers, grinning, when I’m interrupted by the noise. I look up to see the London skyline blanketed in a heavy dark-grey mass. The air has the iron tang of rain – I don’t dare hope.
Gretel’s late but she’s told them she’s on her way and she’s sorry. Josh sends her a photo of the menu so they can get her order in.
Joshua: I’ve had half of your beer xxx
It’s a slightly pass-agg message which is appropriate for my lateness. Luckily I’m glowing with so much post-class joy, I reckon I can charm my way out of it. I fling myself out of the clammy Tube, and up the stairs of Kings Cross, taking the secret shortcut only Londoners know about. I skip up to Granary Square. The sky’s even darker now, practically black. Another attention-seeking clap of thunder shakes the sky and people stop and look up, like we’re at the start of an apocalypse movie. There’s a giant queue to get in to the restaurant and I slink past smugly, skipping the line of people all saying ‘do you think it will rain?’ and staring upwards.
‘Table for Neil?’ I ask at the front desk, checking I’ve got the booking name right on my phone.
‘Up the stairs and to the left.’ The concierge nods the direction and I turn and glide upwards, taking in the instagramness of the restaurant’s interior. It’s kitted out with sleek chequered floors and mahogany tables. Whirring overhead-fans push the flat air around fruitlessly but photogenically. I spot the back of Joshua’s head and my stomach lurches in a swell of unhelpful affection. He’s sitting at a table with three men and two women and hasn’t noticed me yet. He’s talking with his hands, as I’ve learnt he does a lot. I put on a friendly smile and hurry over.
‘Yeah, she works for this sex and relationships charity called We Are Here, it’s really great, though their CMS system sounds like a nightmare …’ He cranes his neck backwards, a big grin right there. ‘And here she is! Gretel, this is everyone. Everyone, this is Gretel.’
I wave at the table widely, trying to make eye contact with each one. ‘It’s so great to meet you,’ I say. ‘I’m so so sorry I’m late. I was at this boxing thing and it ran over.’
‘Boxing thing?’ The man sitting to Joshua’s right is clearly the alpha of this group. I can tell by the way he’s sitting – legs astride. He’s tall, arms crossed, typically good-looking. He must be Neil.
‘Yes and it was in East London so the Tube was a pain. Anyway, hi, I’m Gretel.’
They stand, one by one, to greet me, with an array of handshakes, cheek kisses, and an awkward hug from a slightly pudgy guy at the end of the table. If I’m guessing correctly, this must be Luke, their roommate from uni who’s never had a girlfriend though none of them are sure why. He seems the friendliest. ‘It’s lovely to meet you,’ he says mid-hug and slightly too loudly into my ear. ‘I’ve heard so much about you.’
I raise both eyebrows at Joshua over his shoulder. ‘Is that right?’
‘All good things, all good things,’ Josh reassures me as I sit next to him. He squeezes my hand under the table, and winks, giving me reassurance I don’t need. ‘You OK?’ he whispers.
I can’t pretend I’m not touched by the gesture. ‘I’m fine.’ I kiss the side of his forehead. ‘Sorry again for being late. Hey, is that my beer?’