Into the Darkest Corner Read Free Page B

look him up and down appraisingly. He was dressed in shorts, sneakers, and a black tank top—perfect for the gym, but very different from the last time I’d seen him.
    “No, well, not really much good for running in, that one.”
    “I guess not.”
    Suddenly aware that I was still staring at his thighs, I realized I must look appalling, having just finished an hour’s session in the gym—hair tied back, bits of it sticking to my flushed cheeks, sweaty top. Lovely.
    “Well, it’s good to see you again,” he said, running his eyes from my chest down to my toes and back up again in a fraction of a second.
    I wasn’t sure whether he was being cheeky or a little bit out of line. But then he finished it with a slightly lopsided grin that wasn’t lewd at all, just very sexy.
    “Yes, and you. I’m—going to get a shower.”
    “Sure. I’ll see you soon,” and with that, he turned and ran up the stairs to the gym, taking them two at a time.
    As I showered, I found myself wishing I’d met him when I had been heading for the gym too, instead of just coming out. Then we could have had a proper conversation, and I wouldn’t have been looking like such a train wreck. For a few moments I contemplated hanging around in the coffee shop, waiting for him to finish his workout—would that look too easy? Too desperate?
    Well, what can I say? It had been a while. The last few men I liked had been one-night stands; sometimes I was verging on being too drunk to recall the details. Nothing wrong with it, of course, I was just enjoying myself while I could. Had enough of relationships for the time being, enjoying being single, all of that bullshit. Maybe it was time to start calming down a little. Maybe it was time to start thinking of the future.
    As I dried myself off, the locker room empty, a sudden thought occurred to me—I can’t have looked that bad, or he wouldn’t have recognized me. The last time he’d seen me, I had been dressed in a scarlet satin dress, my hair loose over my shoulders. Today I was dressed in sweaty gym gear, with no makeup and with my hair tied back—quite different. And yet he’d recognized me the instant I looked up—I saw it in his eyes.
    And he’d said, “Hello again.”
    I hadn’t been back to the River since, although I’d been out several times each week. Last weekend I was visiting friends in Scotland, an exhausting weekend with very little sleep—but that hadn’t stopped me going out for drinks after work. On Friday we ended up in the Roadhouse, a new bar that had opened in the Market Square. It was heaving with people thanks to their opening weekend drinks promotions, and Sylvia and Claire had both run off with guys within the first half hour of arriving. For a while, I’d danced and drunk, drunk and danced, happy on my own, seeing people I know and chatting with them, shouting into people’s ears to be heard above the noise. There were some pretty tasty men in there, but there weren’t many single ones. The ones who were left were men I knew, either because I’d been out with them before, or they’d been out with one or other of my friends.
    Now I was already looking forward to next weekend. Friday night I was planning to go out with Claire, Louise and her sister Emma, and then after that the weekend was mine. Smiling to myself, I sauntered back to the car, thinking that maybe we could find our way to the River.

Monday 5 November 2007
    By leaving work late I miss the worst of the crush on the Tube. When I first moved here I made the mistake of fighting my way through the rush hour, and every day the panic got worse. There were too many faces to scan, too many bodies pressing in from all sides. There were too many hiding places, and not enough room for me to run. So I leave work late, which makes up for me getting in late. I keep moving, up and down stairs, along the platform, until the last possible moment and the doors are just closing, before I jump on the train. That way I