Rachel was laughing now. ‘So he says.’
‘Listen, are you sure you don’t want me to come?’
‘No, I’m at the station now. I’m going to go down to the platform so I’ll be home soon. What’s Anna making?’
‘Some kind of dhal, I think. It smells amazing – she says it’ll be done for when you get back. I’m told there will also be naan bread.’
Rachel could hear him grinning down the phone and she smiled again.
‘Yes,’ she breathed. ‘Exactly what I need: carbs, glorious carbs. Right, I’m getting on the train. I’ll see you guys in a bit.’
When she got off the Tube at Finsbury Park about twenty minutes later, Rachel found Tom waiting for her at the station exit.
‘Thomas. You didn’t have to do this,’ she said, shaking her head at him. But her chest was filling up with some soft, warm feeling she identified as gratitude.
‘Well, good evening to you too,’ Tom said, rolling his eyes.
He took her laptop bag, passed the long strap over his head and then smiled at her gently. ‘And I know I didn’t have to; I wanted to. I figured I’d risk a Laurence-style ambush in case you’d rather not walk home alone.’
They strolled in silence for a few minutes until Rachel laughed. ‘You know, if you’re channelling Laurence, your next move should be to tell me I’m almost past it. Then warn me that I’ll die alone and childless if I don’t let you knock me up immediately.’
They passed under a street lamp as they made their way up Stroud Green Road. Rachel saw Tom’s cheeks were glowing deep pink, as though suffused with emotion.
‘I’m okay, you know,’ she reassured him, briefly resting her hand on his arm. ‘You don’t need to be irate on my behalf.’
‘Oh, I do,’ he said, relaxing a little and grinning at her. ‘I’m positivelyenraged. I’m glad you seem to be shrugging it off already, but if I ever see that twat again I’ll be forced to rearrange his smug face.’
‘God,’ Rachel giggled, ‘it’s a long time since I’ve had a man swear to defend my honour. It’s against my whole belief system, to be honest – but I won’t deny that it’s weirdly comforting.’ On the doorstep Rachel fumbled for her keys, then turned to look at Tom before she let them into the building. ‘Thank you for cheering me up,’ she said. ‘You always seem to know what to say.’
She went to hug him and he opened his arms to her, almost bashful. He patted her back lightly as she leaned against him, but Rachel could feel that his spine was rigid and he’d stiffened his shoulders.Eek.This was bad. She’d embarrassed him.
Tom let his hands drop back to his sides and hang there loosely for a few seconds, then stepped back a little and pushed his glasses up his nose. He looked down at his trainers for a moment as if to gather himself, then brought his eyes back to Rachel. His face was calm, composed and kind, like always.
Rachel put her key in the lock and said, ‘Sorry. I’ll warn you next time I go in for a fondle.’
‘I … er … Right,’ Tom said, then coughed and cleared his throat. ‘Let’s go in, shall we? I’m famished.’
Rachel shut the front door behind them, but paused with the flat key between her finger and thumb.
‘Tom?’ she said.
‘Yeah?’
‘I’ve mortified you already, so I might as well say this. You’re a really good friend.’
He was staring at his feet again, softly kicking the side of an Adidas sneaker against the battered hallway skirting board. He pulled his eyes up to hers, attempted a smile that didn’t quite reach them, and mumbled, ‘Thanks. So are you.’
Tom was a good friend. Too good for hisowngood, probably.
If he’d been a slightly worse friend, he’d have held Rachel closer when she’d hugged him tonight. He might have bent his head down over hers so he could breathe in the sweet, coconutty smell of her hair.
A bad friend would have slipped his arms inside that mannish coat she always wore but rarely buttoned up, then spread his hands out on her waist.
Areallybad friend might have kissed her … Kissed her until his mouth was sore, chasing away every last thought of that utter bellend, Laurence – and obliterating all memory of her other arsehole ex.
For fuck’s sake STOP, Tom told himself.
He wasn’t any of these men. He didn’t take advantage of women who were hurt and unhappy. Maybe that made him a mug; it was definitely making him miserable. But still, he had his morals.
