there was no way I could afford anywhere in London to live that wasn’t basically a broom cupboard.’
He laughs. ‘I actually know someone who lived in a cupboard. His bed literally folded down at night, then he’d fold it up, close the door, and go off to work.’
‘Exactly.’ Our eyes meet for a second and we laugh at the idea of it. London is strange.
‘And then Becky came along?’
‘Not quite. Basically, I was helping look after my grandpa and then he died.’
‘Oh.’ He turns to look at me, his brown eyes gentle. ‘I’m sorry.’
I shake my head and curl my fingers into my palm, because I’m still at the stage where tears sneak up unexpectedly, and alcohol helps them along. ‘It’s okay. Anyway, my grandma – Nanna Beth – decided that she wanted to move into a sheltered accommodation place, and I’d been staying in their spare room.’ I smile, as I always do, thinking about her. Everyone should have a grandma like mine. ‘And then – when I’d moved back in with my mother, temporarily, Becky called and asked if I’d be interested in joining her house-share. My Nanna Beth kept telling me I should follow my dreams and do what I really wanted to because we only get one life, and I was trying to convince myself that actually, I was perfectly happy. Then I saw a job in The Bookseller – because I couldn’t help looking, even though I knew it wasn’t ever going to happen – and I thought I’d apply even though I had no chance, and I still can’t believe they’ve given me it. And—’ I stop and draw breath. It’s all come out in a huge garbled sentence, just the same way that it all happened. ‘One minute there I was thinking about it, and wondering how I was going to find somewhere to live and deal with my mother, and then next thing—’
‘Here we are. That feels like fate,’ Alex says, finishing my spoken and unspoken sentences.
‘It does, a bit,’ I say, trying to make a joke of it. ‘What about you?’
‘Oh I was all set. Law career on the up, nice – tiny – flat in Stokey, the lot. But I knew something was missing.’
I chop the limes into pieces, waiting for him to carry on.
‘Anyway, I kept going for a while, but it was nagging away at me. I went into law to make a difference, but I realised that most of my life was going to be spent behind a desk pushing paper around, and it was boring me to death. And – some stuff happened.’ He pauses for a second, and then says. ‘And here I am.’
‘So you’re not doing law now?’
He shakes his head. ‘No. That’s how I knew Becky – we worked together. But unlike most other people, she was brilliant when I told her I was giving up. You need a friend like that on your side.’
‘I agree,’ I say, thinking of her insistence that I come and stay here, and the ridiculously low rent she’d suggested. I’d looked up Rightmove to see how much it would cost to rent a place like this, and I’d almost fainted. Basically a month’s rent for a house this size was my annual publishing salary. When I’d mentioned it, Becky had just snorted and said something about redressing the balance, which had sounded suspiciously like something her mother would have said, so maybe the hippy stuff had rubbed off a bit after all.
‘So,’ I say, wincing slightly as a bit of lime juice squirts up and hits me in the face. ‘What are you doing now?’
‘Training to be a nurse,’ Alex says.
‘No way.’ I put down the knife and look at him. ‘That’s amazing.’
‘Yeah.’ Alex gives me that same lopsided smile and looks relieved. ‘That’s not quite the reaction I got when I told people. It was more like: Oh my God, why are you giving up a job that pays megabucks to be treated like crap, working for a failing NHS?’
Not only is he gorgeous, but he’s noble and ethical as well. He’s like a unicorn, or something.
‘Well I think what you’re doing is brilliant.’
Alex tips the limes into a cocktail shaker and looks at me, his face serious. ‘Thanks, Jess.’
I feel a bit wibbly. Like we’ve had a bit of a moment here together. Like we’ve bonded.
I pass him a glass, and we drink our cocktails and look out of the window at the Notting Hill