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He puts a fist out for me to bump. ‘Just the Eve then I am done. Merry Christmas, darling.’
‘You too.’
I smile, dragging my bags down the carriage and step out on to the platform. You see, that feels like London air, the weight and scent of it, and I smile to be home. Not that the fresh air wasn’t appreciated but my lungs feel more at home now, not like they’rein a state of shock for intaking all that pure oxygen. I walk to the platform thinking about what I’ll do this evening. As dull as it sounds, I need to do some laundry, wrap a few more gifts, water my plants. It also dawned on me that I need to start reading the redundancy paperwork Jan gave me before the weekend. I hadn’t really laid eyes on it; I pushed the idea out of my mind completely over the last few days but I need to start at least thinking about it properly, weighing up the options and working out the best way to tell all of them. I think the main problem lies not just in losing one of them. Once I have made a decision, blame will be laid at my feet and the dynamic will change forever. I don’t know how to do this, how to betray their unerring faith and confidence in me. Losing that feels like the worst thing that could happen. I go into my handbag to retrieve my train ticket and slide it through the machine reader, working out whether to grab a coffee or go straight on the Tube. But then I look up. I cock my head to one side. I don’t quite know how to react but I know I’ve been asleep on that train so try my best to tidy my hair, my face and adjust my scarf. Leo. He stands there, holding a sign that says ‘Maggie’ on an A4 piece of paper, a hand in the air, waving. He’s wearing that green beanie he always wears, his duffel coat and brown boots, a rucksack on his back, an expression that almost looks terrified that this is not the right thing to do. I walk over slowly.
‘Hi, are you my Uber? Jesus?’ I ask him.
I see his shoulders fall with relief. ‘I am. I thought I’d missed you. You’re late out, Miss Maggie.’
‘I was napping,’ I admit. ‘This is a very good service, Jesus. I could have met you outside though.’
‘Well, it’s Christmas. I even put holly on the sign,’ he points out. His eyes crease as he smiles, dimples on full show.
‘And printed out. Helvetica, too.’
‘Well, when I’m not driving Ubers I’m also in IT. This is some of my best work.’
There’s a small group of old ladies next to us pretending to read the departures boards but who stand there eavesdropping, elbowing each other and grinning broadly.
‘Well, I will be sure to review you accordingly.’
‘I bloody hope so,’ he replies, laughing.
I don’t know what to do, Leo. You must have smiled at me a million times before this but now it’s different. I am in the busiest train station in London but the sound, the buzz, is just drowned out by this feeling of only seeing you, wanting to reach out and hold you. How has this happened?
‘How did you know to be here?’ I ask him, suddenly intrigued by the coincidence of it all.
‘Jasper may have texted me to tell me what train you were on. Frank suggested the sign,’ he tells me.
The three of them had a conversation, they conspired. I laugh to think of them coming up with this. ‘Our Frank?’ I ask him, surprised he came up with that himself.
‘He also said balloons but I thought I’d be a bit more subtle,’ he tells me. ‘So what now?’ he asks, nervously. Probably because besides seeing my photo with a gang of fox cubs, the last time I saw him I was having an orgasm on the phone. I blush to think we’re going to jump straight into that. I’ve been up since 6.30am. A breeze shoots through the train station letting me know that the biting cold has returned.
‘Do you fancy getting some dinner?’ I ask him.
‘I’d love that,’ he smiles, nodding. ‘There’s just one thing I have to do.’
He folds the sign in four, putting it in his coat pocket and then suddenly steps forward, putting a hand to the collar of my coat and kisses me gently on the lips. It’s a kiss filled with hesitation but then he slowly exhales as he presses his lips against mine, a graze of his stubble brushing my cheek, a feeling connecting both of us, slowing down the moment as he puts ahand to the back of my head. He steps back, his cheeks flushed, unsure of what’s just happened.
‘Did Jasper and Frank tell you to do that too?’ I stutter, clearing my throat to get the words out.
‘That was all me,’ he says, biting his lip, hoping he hasn’t overstepped.
I try to catch my breath, my face numb, trying to contain the joy leaping out of my soul. We don’t do that, you and I. We don’t, but now it’s all I want to do.
‘Well, you’ll have to give him five stars now, honey,’ an old lady next to us says, and we both stand there in the middle of Waterloo station, laughing, his hand clasped firmly around mine.
PART 4
LEO
TWENTY
‘Good morning. You must be Leo Golding? Hi, I am Maggie Field. Head of IT here. Great to meet you.’ The man standing in front of us at the table had a well-groomed look about him, a navy suit and brown shoes, the tie wasn’t too busy and the watch not too pretentious. He put his backpack and coat on a chair and shook my hand, looking me in the eye. I can’t remember the first impression I had, but I thought the handshake was strong. The gentleman before had had a palm that was unusually damp, which made me think he’d not dried his hands properly after going to the bathroom, unless he was extremely nervous.
He shook the hands of all the panel in turn, an assortment of HR and people from the board of directors. ‘It’s great to be here, many thanks for the opportunity of an interview.’
‘Please take a seat. Is it just Leo? Is it short for something?’ I asked very randomly. Jan from HR gave me a strange look. I was in a suit for the day and this was my first ever recruitment interview so I wanted to give off an air of authority, but also look approachable and unscary as whoever we employed would bein my department. ‘Like Leo Messi – he’s a Lionel or it could be Leonardo like…’
