London Calling Read Free Page B

“Listen, Vicky said something about a room. Is it still going?”
    “Unfortunately not. But come out for a drink later and I might have another option.”
    “Sounds intriguing. Okay, where should I meet you?”
    “Athena in town, just off Greek Street. Google it if you’re not sure. I finish here at 6, so let’s say 6.30?”
    “Perfect. And I don’t have a phone yet so don’t be late.”
    “Yes, miss. And wrap up warm. Remember, no thongs, you’re not in Bondi anymore.”
    “Har de har.”
    My first foray back into London lesbian life. I put my parents’ cordless phone on the bedside table and lay back on the guest double bed, the sheets still comfortably creased from my night’s sleep.
    The radio alarm told me it was 10.21am. I worked forward in my head to where they’d be in Sydney right now – 8.21pm, time for TV or Monday night beers. Tom would be out on Oxford Street, jeans fresh from the wash and tight T-shirt hugging his just-worked-out torso. Meanwhile, Tess would be sinking a schooner of beer in Newtown after a hard day teaching. The thought of Newtown made me feel sick.
    That was what I knew and now it was my old life, in the past. I’d given it all up to come back to live with my parents in a magnolia room with my mum inviting me to bingo. I closed my eyes. I needed a plan of action to combat these thoughts and take my mind off the fact that I’d lost the love of my life and that, at 32, I was sleeping in a room with patterned pelmets. It was temporary, never forget.
    My mum broke my maudlin thoughts with a timely knock on the door.
    “Jess, can I come in?”
    She poked her head round the door before I could answer, as was the pattern of my childhood. When she saw me still lying on the bed, she recoiled.
    “You’re not dressed yet! I’m going to the shops in a bit and wondered if you wanted to come too?”
    “Into town?”
    “No, Sainsbury’s. Why don’t you come with me and we can buy you some food. I don’t know what you like to eat anymore and I want you to feel at home.”
    “Okay,” I said.
    “Jump in the shower then – half an hour?”
    She closed the door and I knew she was right. I had to start moving and getting on with my life, not lying flat and procrastinating. I swung my legs off the bed and propelled my body upwards. First step in the process, food shopping.
    I looked out the window to check on the weather – compared to Sydney, it looked like the ice age had cometh. I dressed appropriately in thick socks, T-shirt and my favourite red hoody. However, as soon as I stepped outside the front door and saw my breath running away from my body, I dashed back in and rescued my old work coat from the spare room wardrobe. It didn’t really go with my casual attire but right now warmth was my priority, not fashion.
     

CHAPTER SIX
     
    I was early in town to meet Kate, full of the lasagne mum had cooked and wearing a jacket that I’d forgotten I had. I was looking for some shoes when I came across it and it immediately took me back to working at the call centre and late-night drinking sessions in Soho with my mates. There was even a stain on the side that was testament to my amazing durability back then.
    Getting on the tube again was an experience too, having done it every day for six years and then not at all in Sydney. But now I was back in London, I’d have to get used to it again – the crowds, the smells, the elbowing. As we pulled into Oxford Circus I was sucked into a swathe of commuters and swept along towards the neon way out sign. A minute or so later I was spat out into the swirling central London winter air, infused with the smell of cigarettes, traffic fumes and hot nuts sold from tiny metal carts.
    Being 20 minutes ahead of schedule, I decided to find the bar first. Once inside, I ordered a Heineken from a surly bartender in a black vest top who wasn’t as cute as she thought she was. I sat myself down at a table near the door so I wouldn’t miss Kate, but it