Ellie watched Alex over the mug’s pointy cat ears while Nanna told him all about the history of their shop. He listened with genuine interest, asking questions and chuckling appropriately at all of Nanna’s silly stories.
After their breakfast was finished, Alex turned and gave her a bright smile that almost burned out her retinas. ‘Thanks somuch for letting me stay, but I need to make a move. I’ve got another show this afternoon.’
‘Of course.’ Ellie hustled to a stand, her chair scraping loudly on the tiles. ‘I’ll show you out. Mark’s opening the shop, so we’d better go out the back.’
‘It was nice meeting you both,’ he said to her mum and nanna, who beamed dumbly back at him as he stood up to leave.
They made their way downstairs, passing the family photos, including the God-awful school portraits of herself and Mark, her weight yo-yoing so much that they must look like a series of before-and-after pics.
‘You have a lovely home,’ he said.
‘Thanks. Some people find it a bit weird what with the layout. Topsy-turvy.’
The shop and storage room took up the entire ground floor, while on the second floor were three bedrooms and a snug-lounge, and their kitchen-diner, bathroom and Ellie’s box room sat on the top floor in what used to be the attic.
‘It’s cool,’ said Alex, and she beamed with pride, even as they picked their way through the piles of boxes and clutter to reach the back door.
The yard backed onto an access road followed by more Victorian terraced houses. Their house was in a tiny patch of East London that had been largely unaffected by the Blitz, demolition of the slums, and any other form of modernisation.
Like my family, she mused as they passed the black-and-white photograph of her nanna as a little girl sat on the front step of their shop, the same sparkling eyes and cheeky grin plastered on a much younger face. Their history was stamped in the worn-out cobbles and graffiti sprayed buildings of the East End.
Dirty, beautiful and timeless.
Home.
A way of life preserved through the changing years. They could have sold up and moved out to the suburbs at any time over the years, as many families had, and they would have made a good amount of money doing it too. But they never had. It would have felt wrong, like selling a member of their family. This corner of London was all they had ever known or wanted. Even when Ellie had wanted to buy her own place, she’d not looked further than a short walk away – it was one of the many reasons why she was thirty and still saving to buy her own flat. As much as her family drove her mad, they were hers, and they lived here in the heart of the East End. She couldn’t leave, but she couldn’t stay either.
She began fumbling with the huge pile of keys they kept in the lockbox.
‘You must think me an idiot, forgetting where I’m staying.’ Alex’s deep voice was so close to her neck that it sent shivers of longing down her spine.
‘Did you remember it this morning?’ she teased, and laughed at the sheepish cringe he made. He’d not remembered much last night, like the name of his hotel or his driver, and Richie had left early. Probably because, whenever he’d looked their way, they’d downed a glass of fizz.
‘No, but I remembered how to check my booking information on my cell.’
Ellie continued to look for the right key, more aware of the tight space and Alex’s big body with every passing second. She had no idea what half of them were used for, and suspected most were for locks they no longer had. ‘That’s good. Although I think Nanna would adopt you given half a chance.’
‘Sounds good to me,’ he said, a layer of sadness sitting beneath his humour.
She looked up with a twinge of concern. ‘It’ll be okay, you know.’
‘Thanks for saying that.’ He swept a hand through his hair, not quite meeting her eyes. ‘Can I have your number? You promised to come with me to the Olivier Awards, remember?’
Her stomach dropped to her bunny-eared feet. ‘Do you still mean that? I mean… we both had a lot to drink…’
‘The offer stands – if you want to, I’d be grateful. I don’t have any friends this side of the pond.’
Her heart expanded and contracted painfully with a mixture of excitement and hope that made her uncomfortable.He wants a friend!she reminded herself sternly.
Concentrating on finding the key, she shrugged lightly. ‘Sure.’ But she doubted it would really happen. It was a drunken promise. If he found someone better, she was sure the invitation would be quickly rescinded. She’d been here before, making arrangements for dates that would never happen. She swore men liked to suggest another date just to avoid an awkward goodbye. Frankly, she wished the cowards were just honest from the start. She was sick of false promises – she’d had enough of them with David to last her a lifetime.
All the flowers and gifts, the sweet words and promises – all made in private, of course. Had David meant any of it? Or had he simply been lonely? Desperate for someone to shower with love, and like a fool she’d taken all of the lies he’d fed her, because she was desperate to love and be loved in return?
Never again.
‘Ah-hah!’ Grateful to have finally found the right key, she unlocked the back door, and then turned to face him. ‘I gave my number to you last night, remember? When we were promising to be best friends for ever. I’m under, Ellie BFF.’ Good old Ellie, always the reliable friend.
Alex blushed, a sweet rush of pink painting his gloriously high cheekbones. ‘Of course. Best friends for ever.’
