‘Oh no,’ I groan, rapping my fingers against the breakfast bar. ‘I’m going to be late!’
I glance at my watch. It’s 8.54am already and not only am I running behind because Daniel and I got a bit, err, side-tracked in bed this morning but the clothes he ordered for me last night haven’t arrived either. So much for getting special treatment for living at the Shard.
‘Relax,’ Daniel insists, looking up from the banana he’s chopping. ‘You’re not travelling in from Lewisham. Your office is only ten minutes away. Just get a cab.’
He scoops his chopped banana into a blender and starts washing a punnet of blueberries. The seconds tick by.
‘I’m just going to have to wear my dress from Friday,’ I sigh. ‘I should have just gone home last night.’
Daniel stops rattling the blueberries under the tap and looks over, a slightly wounded expression on his face. Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door. I rush over and open it to find the concierge wearing a crisp white shirt holding a dozen giant packages.
‘Good morning, madam,’ he says. ‘I have an order for Sophia Jones.’
‘That’s me! Thank you so much,’ I gush, grabbing the packages.
‘My pleasure,’ he says, nodding respectfully as I close the door.
‘Wait!’ he calls out. ‘There’s more,’ he says, lifting another few handfuls of packages from the hallway.
I peer round the door to see another dozen packages.
‘Oh…’ I take the packages from him and move them into the flat before Daniel comes over and starts helping.
I shoot him a shocked look, unable to contain my surprise at how much stuff he’s bought but he just smiles innocently as we carry the packages inside.
‘Have a great day,’ the concierge says once we’re finally done.
‘You too,’ I reply, closing the door.
Daniel wanders over to the kitchen, where he presses the presses a button to blend his smoothie. The fruit churns loudly, turning a deep purple colour.
‘What the hell! How much stuff did you buy, Daniel?’ I ask, but he doesn’t seem to hear me over the sound of the blender.
I tear open one of the packages in a hurry to find something for work and I pull out a slinky midnight blue dress with capped sleeves. It’s pretty, but so short. I pull out another dress, a white lacey one. It’s so nice, but again, so short. I tear open another package to find a sexy, sheer silk blouse.
‘Daniel!’ I shout over the sound of pulverising fruit.
He glances over and switches the machine off.
‘Yeah?’ He pours the purple liquid into a glass.
‘Hardly work wear, is it?’ I hold up the top.
Daniel shrugs. ‘Why not?’
‘Somehow I doubt Ted would approve.’
Daniel smirks. ‘I don’t think Ted would mind. But yeah, I don’t want your boss perving over you. You can just wear that at weekends with me.’
Hmmm. See-through silky blouses. Hardly my thing. Still, it’s a present and I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
‘I can’t believe how much stuff you bought me,’ I comment but Daniel just gives the smallest of shrugs as he sips his smoothie. I tear open another package and pull out a grey dress in a more demure tweed-style material, with large quirky black pockets.
‘This is cool.’ I hold it up.
Daniel smiles. ‘Wear it.’
‘It’s a bit too short for work,’ I note, holding the bum-skimming dress up against my body.
‘Oh yeah, I forgot you’re a prude.’ Daniel’s lips twitch.
I tut, ignoring him as I open another of the packages to find a cream-coloured lace teddy. I raise an eyebrow at Daniel, who just sips his smoothie and grins.
‘Honestly,’ I tut, but the teddy is really gorgeous.
I wish I could just put it on right now, forget about work and hang out with Daniel all day instead. I glance up at him. He leans against the kitchen counter in his boxers. They cling to his body just enough to outline the shape of what’s underneath. We exchange a look and he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
‘You could always pull a sickie?’ he suggests but a plane tears past outside, snapping me out of my daydream.
I’ve spent two days getting jiggy with Daniel, I can’t really justify another. And anyway, Ted would be pretty pissed off if I didn’t come in, especially since Sandra was off on Friday.
‘I can’t…’
Daniel sighs. ‘Yeah, well I should head to the office anyway,’ he groans.
I look at my watch: 9.10am.
‘Ahhhh!’ I shriek, rummaging through the packages all of which appear to contain underwear.
‘Wear the grey dress,’ Daniel says but I rip open one of the other parcels. I just want to find that boring black dress I ordered. Something ordinary for work. I reach into one of the packages and pull out a patent leather bra.
‘Daniel!’ I shriek but he just laughs and holds his hands up in mock innocence. ‘I’m getting dressed.’
He downs his smoothie and wanders off. I tear open one of the other packages, which contains that red skirt suit Daniel liked. I unwrap it. It’s silky smooth and the colour is gorgeous. A deep blood red, the sort of shade I’d never have picked out for myself. The next package is the cream shirt to go with the suit so I rummage through the packages looking for the ankle boots. But instead, I open a giant shoe box to find a pair of sexy black thigh-high boots. Honestly! I pull out two more shoe boxes.
Luckily the first one I open contains the ankle boots I’m looking for. God knows what’s in the other box. Probably some plastic porn star stilettos. I dash into the bedroom clutching the outfit, tear off my dressing gown and slip the suit on. The skirt is a perfect fit, if a bit short. I don the cream shirt and glance at the label as I slip it on. 100% silk. I can’t help pausing to admire my reflection in Daniel’s bedroom mirror. Blood red must be my colour. It makes my hair and my eyes look darker, and brings out a rosy glow in my cheeks. I bunch my hair up and turn around, checking out how it makes my bum look.
‘You look hot,’ Daniel comments, as he emerges from the walk-in wardrobe, fastening a cufflink.
‘I can’t believe you got me all this stuff! I love this suit.’ I do a little twirl.
Daniel smiles contentedly. ‘I knew it would look great on you.’
‘Thank you, Daniel.’
‘It’s nothing,’ he says, as he walks up behind me and slips his hands around my waist, and I know he means it. Buying all this stuff for me really is nothing to him. I watch our reflections as he kisses my neck. I look like someone else. Someone classy and successful. And then there’s Daniel. I still look at him and just think, ‘Wow’ every time.
‘We look good together,’ he remarks, appraising our reflections in the mirror.
‘We do.’
‘We make a good couple,’ he adds, taking me by surprise.
I turn to face him, my heart suddenly a little fluttery. ‘A couple?’
Daniel looks amused. ‘Yeah. I mean we are, aren’t we?’ He scans my face questioningly.
‘Oh! Yes! A couple! Of course.’ I lean in to kiss him, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him close.
A couple. We’re a couple! Sophia and Daniel. Daniel and Sophia! Ha! I can’t believe it. I hold him close, savouring the feel of his body against mine.
Suddenly the light changes in the room as clouds shift over the sun. Reality beckons.
‘I’d better go,’ I sigh.
‘Okay,’ he relents glumly, kissing the top of my head.
I slip on my ankle boots, grab my handbag and pause briefly to check out my shoes in the mirror, admiring their massive gold buckles and chunky heels. They give a young, cool edge to what would otherwise just be a sophisticated outfit. Daniel really does have an eye.
‘I’ll text you later,’ I call out to him, though he’s now retreated back into the walk-in wardrobe.
‘See you later,’ he calls back.
I hurry out of the flat, my heels pounding on the floor. There’s still loads of packages in the living room that I haven’t even opened yet. I still can’t believe how much stuff Daniel bought. I dash into the lift and shoot down to the ground floor, where I’m greeted by two doormen holding the front door open for me.
I can’t help glancing around as I step out to see if anyone has clocked me. I feel like a celebrity, just casually strutting out of the Shard on a Monday morning. But no one’s really paying attention and before I know it, I’m just another harried office worker swept up in the throng of people barging along the street towards the train station. Cars honk and swerve and the whole scene is typical Monday morning chaos. But as I reach London Bridge station and head towards the ticket barrier, I notice a few other commuters giving me appreciative second glances. I swipe my card over the ticket barrier. It must be the outfit. Or perhaps it’s the spring in my step. It’s strange to think that only three days have passed since I was last on the tube and yet so much has changed. I have a boyfriend now! A drop dead gorgeous multi-millionaire boyfriend who lives at the Shard! I have a whole new set of clothes! I still can’t get over how much Daniel must have spent. Perhaps I ought to get him a present to say thanks, like a tie or something. Although he’s hardly going to wear something within my cheap and cheerful price range.
I rush down the escalator and barge my way onto the waiting train, where I end up wedged in the crowded carriage between a man who clearly didn’t brush his teeth this morning and a woman who keeps rustling her copy of Metro in my ear. Maybe Daniel was right and I should have just got a cab. Being down here on the stuffy underground is a bit of a shock to my system after my weekend of luxury.
I let out a sigh as the tube judders along and stare into space, avoiding eye contact with other commuters, when suddenly an advert plastered onto the side of the carriage catches my eye. An ad for Dream Dates. It must be the one Kate saw the day she convinced me to join the site - the one with the gorgeous guy on it. It features a man in a suit, stereotypically tall, dark and handsome, kissing a woman with long blonde hair. Not very imaginative. It’s like the front cover of a tacky romance novel, and yet someone has doodled over the man in black marker pen, drawing on devil’s horns, a tail and a spear. Bizarre.
I get off the tube and switch to the DLR for the final few stops to Shadwell, pushing the strange doodle out of my mind. It’s not like it means anything, it was probably just some stupid, drunk person trying to be funny.
Ten minutes later, after rattling along on the DLR and power-walking to the office, I dash through reception, feeling a little breathless by the time I finally push open the office door.
‘Morning, Ted, sorry I’m late.’ I hurry over to my desk.
Ted looks up from his computer screen and eyes me coolly. He’s got a pen tucked behind his ear, which I bet he’s forgotten is even there.
‘Trains were delayed. Engineering works in Lewisham,’ I mumble.
Ted nods stiffly. ‘Fine,’ he sighs.
If there’s one thing I know I can depend upon at times like this, it’s Ted’s low opinion of Lewisham. He seems to see it as some kind of post-apocalyptic wasteland with third world trains and infrastructure, woefully substandard compared to the cushy little St Alban’s village he commutes in from every day.
‘Morning.’ Sandra smiles, giving me a little wave.
‘Morning,’ I reply as I settle down at my desk.
Her eyes roam over my outfit. She doesn’t hide her interest, but then again, Sandra never does.
I turn on my computer. ‘How’s Betsy? Had her babies yet?’ I ask her quietly.
‘No, she’s just getting bigger by the day.’
Ted clears his throat and shoots us a look, before getting up and heading over. He’s wearing yet another pair of ridiculously large trousers, which waft like sails on a ship as he walks.
‘Need this done by the end of the day,’ he grumbles, before marching back to his desk, having clearly got up on the wrong side of bed this morning.
I roll my eyes at Sandra, before flicking through the document. It’s the usual. Long rambling paragraphs. Researchers too busy for punctuation. I start scribbling and making big biro slashes midway through sprawling sentences to break them up. But after a few minutes, my gaze wanders out of the window, my eyes landing on the Shard, towering above everything else, and I start thinking about Daniel. I picture our reflections in the mirror this morning, him kissing my neck, just before he called us a couple. I can’t help smiling to myself.
‘How’s the paper going, Sophia?’ Ted asks.
Somehow, he’s appeared at my desk. He’s still got the pen wedged behind his ear.
‘Oh, err, good, thanks.’ I rustle the pages and look down, spotting an unnecessary capital letter, which I quickly cross out.
‘I need it done by this afternoon. No excuses.’ He shuffles off to the photocopier.
No excuses. Who does Ted think he is? He sounds like a schoolmaster. What’s next? Is he going to bend me over the desk and spank me with his cane? I shudder, pushing the repulsive thought out of my mind.
I force myself to concentrate and work my way through the document, until Sandra finally breaks my concentration.
‘Want to go for lunch?’ she asks.
‘Sure.’ I immediately drop the paper.
‘One second.’ Sandra taps on her keyboard.
I look over to see a grainy image of Betsy appear on her screen. Suddenly the image moves.
‘What was that?’ I ask, startled.
‘My baby…’ Sandra coos, stroking the screen. ‘It’s webcam footage of Betsy,’ she explains as if that’s perfectly normal. ‘I attached it to the top of her cage so I can check on her while I’m at work, to make sure she’s okay.’
‘Right…’ I murmur as a pregnant Betsy waddles to her food bowl.
‘She looks like she’s doing alright,’ Sandra notes, logging off. ‘Let’s go.’
We grab our coats and head out the office, telling Ted we’ll be back soon. He nods, wrapped up in work, as sits at his desk and munches his packed lunch – some sort of fishy-smelling pasta concoction.
‘So, how did Betsy get pregnant then?’ I ask as we head out of the building and walk to the café down the road.
‘Bloody Trisha,’ Sandra tuts, pulling her coat close against the cool autumn air.
‘Trisha?’
‘You know I visited my mum a few weeks ago? Well, I left Betsy with Trisha from the Knitting Ninjas. You know how I don’t like to leave her alone, and Trisha has a hamster too, little Lizzy, so I thought Betsy would be in good hands.’ Sandra shakes her head woefully.
‘So, Trisha was cleaning Lizzy’s cage and she put her in with Betsy, and well, the two of them must have mated. Trisha was told by the pet shop that Lizzy was a girl but she took her to the vet and it turns out that she’s not a girl after all. She, or he, I should say, goes by the name of Fred now.’
I snort with laughter.
‘It’s not funny, Sophia,’ Sandra huffs, but her lips are twitching. ‘My poor little baby.’
‘Your little baby got some action!’
Sandra blushes. ‘Poor Betsy.’
‘What are you going to do with the babies?’ I ask, as an image pops into my mind of Sandra living in a flat swarming with copulating hamsters.
‘I’ll leave them in at the pet shop,’ she says as we approach the cafe. ‘They owe us for the mistake they made with Lizzy.’
Sandra pushes open the door. Luckily, we’re ahead of the lunchtime rush and the cafe, which smells of fresh coffee, is just the right amount of busy. We choose what we’re having and join the queue.
‘Anyway, enough about hamsters,’ Sandra sighs ‘How’s it going with Daniel?’
‘Amazing!’ I tell her, unable to hide my excitement. ‘We’re official!
‘Ahhh! You’re official!!’ Sandra squeals so loudly that the whole café goes silent. I cough awkwardly and try to feign a nonchalant expression until the conversation gradually resumes.
‘Oh, my goodness! You and Daniel! Wow!’ Sandra gushes.
I can’t help grinning.
‘Talk about boyfriend material! You really hit the jackpot there, Sophia.’
‘I know!’
‘I’m so happy for you,’ Sandra says as we carry our trays over to a table at the back of the café.
‘Thanks!’ I beam back at her as we sit down.
Sandra plucks the lid off her cup of Earl Grey and swirls a plastic spoon around, circulating the tea bag.
‘You’ll never guess where he lives,’ I can’t resist commenting.
‘You said he lived in London Bridge, didn’t you?’
‘Yeah, but guess where?’
Sandra frowns. ‘What? I don’t understand. How am I meant to know where?!’
‘He lives at the Shard!’ I tell her.
‘Yeah, right.’ She rolls her eyes as she fishes the tea bag out of her cup.
‘No, I’m serious. He lives at the Shard! He has a flat at the top of the Shard.’
Sandra takes a tentative sip of her steaming tea, eyeing me over the edge of the cup.
‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’ she says slowly, in disbelief.
‘Yes!’
‘The Shard!?’ she yelps, causing a load of people to look over once more.
‘I know! The Shard!’
‘The Shard! The actual Shard?!’ Sandra cries.
‘Yeah, I know! Shhhh.’ I try to hush her. ‘We sound like a pair of demented tourists.’
Sandra giggles, shaking her head slowly in disbelief. ‘What’s it like?’
‘It’s crazy! It’s so beautiful!’
I tell her about everything – the chandelier, the humungous dining table, the designer shower gel, the electronic curtains, the incredible views. Naturally, Sandra laps it all up.
‘What a catch,’ she utters, awe-struck.
‘I know! I still can’t believe it!’ I shake my head in disbelief, when I feel a hand tapping my shoulder.
‘Sophia?’
I turn around to see Chris standing behind me, in an office suit, holding a tray.
‘Hi!’ he says.
‘Oh hey!’ I reply, surprised to see him. ‘How’s it going?
‘Good! Yeah, great. Can I join you? I saw there was a spare chair at your table and I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind.’
‘Of course not!’ I reply, noticing how busy the café has become in the five or ten minutes since Sandra and I arrived.
‘Great!’ he takes a seat, glancing curiously at Sandra.
‘Chris, this is Sandra, Sandra, Chris,’ I introduce them as they reach across the table and shake hands.
Sandra asks how Chris and I we each other and we explain about our date and how we bumped into each other in the café, the story punctuated by awkward laughter, until Chris turns his attention to me and Sandra. We tell him about work, joking about our research papers and Ted with his enormous oversized clothes. It’s amazing to see how well Sandra and Chris are getting on. I’ve rarely seen her chatting with guys and always imagined she might be a little shy, but she’s totally at ease around Chris.
‘Oh! Tell us about your date!’ I pipe up when the conversation has finally moved away from the glamourous world of Shadwell Medical Research Centre.
‘Right, yeah… It was brilliant!’ Chris’ face lights up. ‘It was really relaxed. I asked her questions about herself and it felt good, like we really got to know each other. She’s up for a third date so I’m guessing it went well. I managed not to drop in too many facts at least!’ Chris says, explaining the questions over trivia rule to Sandra.
‘Facts are awesome though!’ Sandra says.
‘I totally agree!’ Chris adds, looking thoughtfully at Sandra’s lentil soup. ‘For example, did you know that in Ancient Egypt, as far back as 2400BC, people used to put lentils in their loved ones’ tombs to give them food for the afterlife!’
‘Oh, really?’ Sandra responds, rapt, eating a spoonful. ‘It’s interesting to think that the lentil soup I’m eating now, in the 21st century, is probably not all that different to the sort of thing that would have been prepared in ancient civilisations. I’ve never really thought about that before.’
‘Yes, definitely! Lentil soup is such an earthy, ancient dish. Probably the most the most age-old meal you could have found in here.’
‘It is!’ Sandra chuckles.
I take a big bite of my carrot cake. ‘Thank God, we live in modern times!’
‘Yes, we certainly wouldn’t have had cake in BC. It dates back to the 13th century, quite a modern invention compared to lentil soup!’
Sandra laughs and I find myself smiling somewhat indulgently at this geeky conversation.
‘You really do know a lot of food facts!’ I note. ‘Like crazy amounts.’
‘Well, I love facts and I love food!’ Chris grins. ‘And as for the baking facts, my mum has a cake-baking business so she taught me a lot about cake!’
‘That’s so—’ Sandra’s phone starts ringing, interrupting the conversation.
‘It’s Ted,’ she gasps, with a panicked expression, before answering the phone.
‘Oh, right, yes,’ she says into the phone, while glancing at her watch.
I glance at mine to see that we’ve been on our lunch break for well over the allocated hour.
‘No, we’re heading back now. Ok, five minutes. Sorry Ted, bye!’ She hangs up, pulling a face.
‘Ted’s pretty annoyed. We need to get back!
We don our coats and apologise to Chris, who still has half his lunch left. He takes a couple of battered old library books out of his bag – a romantic comedy novel and a politician’s memoir.
‘Reading material?’ I ask.
‘Yeah, just popped into the library before lunch. Not sure which to start with,’ he says.
‘Oh, I’d go for that one,’ I point at the romantic comedy.
‘Yeah, good shout.’
Chris slides the memoir back into his bag and we say goodbye.
‘Let me know how date three pans out!’ I call over my shoulder as Sandra and I are walking away.
Chris’ mouth is full and he nods, giving me the thumbs up.
Sandra and I hurry back to the office.
‘He was so nice!’ she gushes, a little breathlessly.
‘Yeah, he’s sweet,’ I admit.
‘You didn’t tell me he was such a dish!’ Sandra adds, giving me a cheeky nudge.
‘He’s not a dish. Anyway, you said that about Daniel, who is actually a dish. Chris is sweet but he’s not dishy,’ I add, wincing a little at my use of Sandra’s cringe-worthy adjectives.
Sandra shrugs. ‘They’re very different. Chris is cute.’
‘Well, I suppose so. A bit,’ I admit as we carry on walking. He is kind of cute, but in a sort of chatty, wide-eyed, enthusiastic way, like a puppy. And yes, he’s tall and slim and he does have a nice smile, but he’s not a head-turner like Daniel. He’s not sexy or suave in the way that Daniel is.
‘Yeah, cute is the right word for Chris. He’s cute,’ I think aloud as swipe my pass against the office door.