“Two days before she broke up with me, on The Worst Day, she woke up telling me she had a new favorite baby name. A week before she’d said ‘we should go there’ when we were watching some TV show set in Greece.” He was frowning and she could see how much this was all tormenting him. “Thedaybefore, she left a pack of vitamins on the table with a note saying ‘don’t forget to take me. I love you’ beside them.” He moved to step aside for a street cleaner strolling slowly toward them, leaning on his cart and biting an apple. “People could get in her head sometimes. I just think if I can figure out what she saw in the book, I can fix this somehow, or change it. Help her to see what a massive mistake she’s making. That maybe breaking up isn’t what she wanted. But, well, I’m a photographer. Words aren’t my bag. Nothing in this book makes sense to me.”
He seemed so confused... and maybe therewassomething he was missing. Daisy knew that if there was, she could find it.She liked a challenge. Plus, she realized with a jolt, she liked him. He was easy to talk to, and they seemed to just get each other in some intangible way. Maybe it was the dead-parents thing, or meeting in the way they had, a mix of adrenaline pumping and a sense of euphoria at their escape.
Daisy took Tom’s copy, flicking through the pages that were left. “There must be something,” she said. “What about...” Daisy’s eyes landed on a sentence and she cleared her throat before reading aloud.“Nothing thicker than a knife’s blade separates happiness from melancholy.”She frowned. “That’s... deep?”
He muttered the words to himself, twice. “Fuck!” he said. “How did I not pick up on that?”
She shrugged. “It’s literally my job to pull apart long pieces of text and find the important details. I could...” She stopped. Was it weird, what she was about to offer? “I kind of owe you after destroying your copy and I don’t want you banned from the British Library, so... I could help, if you wanted?” She held the book back out to him and he took it, bringing it toward his chest.
“You don’t owe me,” he said. “But I mean... I’d take any help I can get. I’m a bit lost without her, and that sounds so stupid, I know.”
“It doesn’t,” she said, meaning it. She knew how it felt to be lost.
“But if you help me, I want to help you too.” He pulled at his lip and she winced as he flinched at the pain it must have caused him. His eyes lit up. “Have you got a photographer?” There was a playful tone to his voice as he nodded toward her left hand. “For your wedding? I could do that. If you help with this.” He raisedOrlandoagain. “I could be your wedding photographer?”
Photographer! She hadn’t even thought about booking one yet. She’d kept reassuring Zack she was “on it” with the planning, but really she had no idea what that meant and clearly shewas dropping balls she wasn’t even aware she should be juggling. Now here was Tom, offering his services for free, and there was no denying how helpful that would be. Special too, somehow, that this truly bizarre morning that had brought them both together could have that ending.
She held her hand out toward him. He looked at it and then, reaching out, he rested his hand in hers. She shook it, hard, laughing as his mouth fell open at her surprise strength.
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” she said. “If I help you win back...” She waited, realizing she didn’t know the name of the woman who had dominated their conversation without even being present.
“Sophie.”
“Sophie, then you have to be my wedding photographer. And that’ll be no easy job. My best friend, Clara, is probably going to meet her girlfriend of two years for the very first time on the day... and I’m pretty sure she’s a catfish, so that would be a framer. My mum is refusing to take a plus-one because she claims my brother is all she needs, so you’ll have to try and stop it from looking like they’re a couple, and the thought of that makes me want to vomit. My partner last night sent me a link to a company who offer to release doves as you say your vows. Oh, and I’ve refused to be in every photo ever taken since my late teens.”
He tilted his head, looking at her.
“I find that hard to believe,” he said, squinting slightly as he took her in. “In my humble opinion as a professional, you have the perfect bone structure for any lens and a radiant smile. It would be my honor to pull you out of your modelling hibernation.”
She could feel a light blush forming on her cheeks and increased her pace so she was walking a step or two ahead of him. She imagined telling all this to Zack. That there was a man who was always on her bus and today he helped her fight off some men and then they walked together to Goodge Street and now he’d be taking thephotos at their wedding. He’d tell her she was being too trusting, and perhaps she was. Would probably suggest she take another bus for her own safety, or advise she switch shifts. That’s how seriously he’d take it, and she loved her early starts. Her journeys in, staring at the darkened world outside. It would be easier to just tell him she found a photographer online instead.
“It’s just a bit farther down here,” she said when they reached Warren Street, the railings to the station closed, two men waiting hopefully in front of them.
“I never asked you what you do,” Tom said, as they turned onto the top of Tottenham Court Road, past a couple of construction workers who were setting up a barrier that in a few hours would cause mayhem. ‘You’ve mentioned it in a very intriguing way a couple of times. Observant because of your job. Pulling apart texts...”
“I’m an entertainment news journalist,” she said, waiting for whatever derogatory remark might follow. It was fine. She was used to it by now.
“How cool!” His face lit up. “My... dad’s wife...” He frowned. “Half sister’s mum... she’s one too.”
“You mean your... stepmum?”
“Nope.” He shook his head hard and she laughed.
“Okaaaay. I guess at least your dad moved on? My mum’s never had another boyfriend. Not even a date, I don’t think. Anyway, yournon-stepmum who is married to your dad is an entertainment news journalist?”
“She is. For a tabloid.”
“I’m radio,” Daisy said, pointing at herself.
“Way cooler,” he replied, nodding. “Not that it matters. You know... being cool. Being tough... all of that...” he trailed off.
“It doesn’t, but for the record you do look quite tough now with that cheek,” she said, turning toward him. “I think it’s turning purple. You should probably put some ice on it.”
He lifted his hand to it, fingers tentatively touching it. “I’ll get right on that,” he said.
“It isn’t what I want to be doing,” Daisy added. “The entertainment stuff. No disrespect to your non-stepmum. I took it as a way in, but one day,” she said, recalling the reasons that one day wasn’t right now, “once I’m more experienced and I have a bit more time, I want to do investigative work.”
Tom nodded. “Very cool. I can already tell you’d be amazing at that.” He didn’t look at her, and Daisy was glad because more heat was rushing to her cheeks. It was nice to hear someone saying that to her, even if he was a near stranger.
