‘Bude.’
Luis hadn’t heard of it. It was a pretty town with beautiful beaches, sand dunes, no cathedrals but some cute churches. Glancing at Danny’s textbooks Luis asked, ‘What are you studying?’
Danny showed him the books.
‘I’m training to be a nurse, in a bar, which I know is weird. But the libraries are closed and my home was crazy tonight.’
Flicking through the pages, Luis said that nursing was a great profession. Judging from his tone he sounded sincere. This was important to Danny because lots of people looked down on guys being nurses, wondering why they wouldn’t want to be a doctor or a psychiatrist or something moreprestigious, by which they often meant more male. After years of dead-end jobs Danny had decided to change direction. He had read in a self-help book that happiness was all about connections, personal and societal. Since he was not a guy with a deep reservoir of self-esteem he hoped this career, while modest in terms of pay, would bolster him in other ways and one day he would become one of those nurses who would hold a patient’s hand no matter who they were or how sick they might be.
Luis didn’t have much to say about his work other than he was a lawyer. Danny guessed, ‘You came here from work?’
Luis nodded and without stopping to consider, Danny followed with, ‘You’re not out? Are you? I mean – to them?’
Surprised by the directness, Luis shook his head.
‘No.’
Changing the subject, Danny admitted, ‘I talk too much.’
Luis ventured, ‘I don’t talk enough.’
Danny said, ‘Would you like another beer?’
Danny couldn’t afford any more drinks since he had no cash left. But he had his bank card and an interest-free student overdraft and Luis was worth it.
‘Isn’t this bar closing soon?’
Danny’s face fell at the inevitable rejection he had been waiting for. Luis added, ‘We could have a drink at my place.’
Outside Luis flagged down a black cab, an unaffordable luxury for Danny who fell silent contemplating the cost of the night. A minicab, a black cab and two Irish coffees. But Luis wouldn’t hear of splitting the fare, explaining that he would have caught the cab home anyway. He lived alone in a rented apartment on the top floor of an old biscuit factory in East London that had escaped the bombing during the Blitz. In contrast to Danny’s room Luis’s apartment enjoyed sweeping views stretching from St Paul’s Cathedral to the BT Tower. The interior was so spacious that it was easy to imagine big whirring biscuit machines where there was now a sleek Japanese-style low bed. Instead of a wardrobe there was a stainless-steel clothes rail lined with Luis’s immaculate suits. Luis apologized for the apartment being so cold.
‘It was summer when I rented the place.’
There was not a single plant or item of decoration, no photos or pictures, no personalization of any kind. Everything was functional except for an antique silver necklace, with a small crucifix, on the bedside table beside the books he was reading about Winston Churchill. Catching Danny’s curiosity, Luis explained that the books were so he could share the same references as his colleagues. Danny asked, ‘Are you good at fitting in?’
Becoming accustomed to the weird questions, Luis replied with a smile.
In the kitchen Danny assessed the limited beverage options. There were bottles of Spanish red wine and Scottish whisky. He checked the fridge and found two lemons and a jar of honey in the larder. He asked Luis, ‘Have you heard of a drink called a hot toddy?’
Luis shook his head, repeating the odd-sounding name and asking what it was.
‘It’s Scottish, I think. Or maybe it’s Irish. Anyway, it’s hot water, lemon, honey and whisky. It’s the perfect winter drink.’
Luis seemed concerned.
‘Is this apartment so cold?’
Danny shook his head.
‘They’re fun to make.’
Clattering around in the kitchen Danny produced two hot toddies, strong, not too sweet and decorated with a slice of lemon. And he was right, they were fun to make. Tasting one for the first time, Luis said he liked it very much and they took the drinks into the living room where they stood side by side at the windows looking out over the view. Danny pointed at the spotlit dome of St Paul’s and for the sake of saying something declared, ‘My favourite building in the world. But I haven’t travelled much.’
Danny suddenly felt small. Covering his insecurities he said, ‘Have you been to the top?’
Luis shook his head.
‘I didn’t know you could.’
