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“You dragged two suitcases down, then up some stairs. Hardly moving, Freddie.”
“That’s my cardio for the day. I’m knackered. I think I pulled a muscle, too.”
“Lightweight,” said Alex.
Lucy stamped up the stairs and into the room. “Here’s a room-warming gift, courtesy of Cider with Rosie.” Several pointy green arms stretched out in all directions from a huge clay pot.
Alex sat up. “Why would I want that? It looks like an octopus but with…spiky bits?”
“Or a bloody Triffid,” said Freddie.
“What’s that?” asked Alex.
Freddie smiled. “Google it.”
Lucy shook her head. “It’s an aloe vera plant. It wouldn’t fit in their camper van. Freds, you can have one, too.”
He leaned on one elbow and adjusted his glasses to get a better look. “And let Moriarty fight with it? No, thanks. Take it to work. Your New Age sandwich bosses will probably chop it up into a salad or something.”
“That’s a crap gift,” Alex pouted.
“I’ve got something much better than that horticultural horror show.” Freddie stuck his hand into the back pocket of his jeans and yanked out his wallet. “Feast your eyes upon these gems.” He held up four tickets, which Lucy tore from his hand. Alex followed their flight path with keen interest.
Lucy shifted the clay pot on to her hip, inspecting the tickets. She smirked at Freddie and handed them to Alex.
Her eyes popped. “Seriously? Tickets for Isabella’s play?”
Freddie beamed. “Am I good or what? See, I’m much more than just a pretty face and a pert arse.”
“Aw, thanks, Freddie. November 28 just can’t come soon enough. It’s all happening!” She flung her arms around his neck, knocking him backwards on the mattress.
“Actually, I can’t take credit. Blame Mark. He picked them up.”
“So all four of us can go!” Alex untangled her arms from his neck and shoulders. “I’ll have to text him to say thanks.”
“Mark’s been working on getting tickets for a while. The run sold out, so I think he practically traded a kidney in exchange for them.” Freddie ran his hand through his hair. “You were so low before the trip up north; we figured it might boost your spirits.”
“It has!” Alex wasn’t sure what thrilled her more—having tickets to Isabella’s play, or the fact that it was Mark who got them for her.
• • •
“Did you know, it was a month ago today that I moved out of Harry’s flat. I love it here, but my commute to work—ugh!” Alex mimed sticking her finger down her throat. She slung her laptop bag over her shoulder and walked down Henshaw Street.
“Welcome to London commuting hell.” Lucy stifled a yawn. “I guess rolling out of bed on Martello Street and showing up behind the café counter in a few minutes looks pretty good right now.”
Alex nibbled the edge of a barely toasted bagel. “I didn’t think my new commute would be almost an hour long. It’s double yours. Leaving our flat at seven thirty is killing me. It’s just another incentive to find a new job.”
They turned onto Balfour Street, barely dodging an older man and his hyperactive corgi storming out from the Victory Community Park. “I’m surprised you haven’t bumped into Olivia in your old ‘hood.” Lucy hopped back onto the sidewalk.
“Greasy spoons aren’t her style, darling,” joked Alex, kicking her biker boots through a heap of crunchy brown leaves. “But yeah, it’s just a matter of time.”
“Have you spoken to Harry?”
“Once, last week. He asked about the flat, my writing. It still felt weird, not being honest about what went on with Olivia. I mentioned taking my laptop over to the National to write. He got excited by that, so that’s all we talked about.”
Lucy yanked at her black pencil skirt underneath her trench coat. “Sod it! This thing keeps twisting with every step.”
“You look professional and pretty.” Alex sighed at her jeans, and red and blue t-shirt underneath her open jacket. “I’d gladly trade places with you. I can’t wear anything nice. It all gets covered in grease spatters and coffee stains.”
