‘Beans on toast is my fave,’ Jude said. ‘So long as you’ve got chilli sauce to put on it. And you do, don’t you?’
‘Of course,’ I said, and our eyes met and we both smiled the same identical, goofy smile, because it was just too strange and amazing that this was happening.
I told him a bit about the Ginger Cat: how Alice had saved it from being bought and redeveloped by Fabian Flatley (although I didn’t mention that it was Fabian who Dani and I had been going to meet); how in the end the pub had been purchased by a co-operative of local people who were running it for the benefit of the community; how Maurice had taught me to play dominoes. Jude told me about the internship he was doing with a homelessness charity in Bedfordshire, even though he was as good as homeless himself, sleeping on a friend’s sofa during the week and going back to his parents’ place at weekends.
‘I told Mum not to expect me back until late tonight,’ he said. ‘She worries about me like I’m still about fourteen and might fall off my skateboard.’
‘Oh my God, I had a skateboard when I was fourteen, too! I was totally crap at it. My knees were always covered in scabs, like they’ll be tomorrow.’
‘Mine too. Mum kept trying to make me wear pads and a helmet, but I always took them off when I met my mates because I thought it was uncool.’
I laughed, not needing to tell him that I’d done exactly the same.
‘But I bet you were one of the edgy kids,’ I said. ‘Sneaking off to gigs at weekends and getting into pubs with fake ID and smoking weed behind the bike sheds. Weren’t you?’
He widened his eyes in fake innocence. ‘Of course not! Okay, I was. How do you know? Were you there? Only there was this gorgeous redhead I snogged when I was in my GCSE year. I always felt like she was the one that got away.’
‘Lucky her. But it wasn’t me – you’d have remembered my braces for sure.’
He laughed. ‘I had braces too. They’d have got caught up in yours, and we’d still be trying to untangle ourselves.’
When we’d finished the food and the beers, Jude stood up and said he supposed he’d better get going, if he was going to make the last train, and I hesitated for only a second before saying, ‘You can stay if you like.’
‘I thought you’d never offer,’ he said.
‘I thought you’d never ask,’ I countered.
‘There’s a spare toothbrush in the bathroom.’ I felt suddenly shy. ‘Help yourself.’
‘Thanks. It’s like being in a five-star hotel.’
He disappeared into the bathroom and I enticed Frazzle out from under the sofa where he’d been hiding, feeling terrible about scaring him but telling myself he just wasn’t used to strangers, and Jude was a complete animal lover so of course it would be okay and they’d be friends before long. I gave him some dinner and changed the water in his bowl and cleaned his litter tray and gave him some fuss, all the while listening to the unfamiliar sounds of Jude in my bathroom: water running, the toilet flushing, the tread of his feet on the floorboards. The flat suddenly felt very, very small and I felt very, very shy.
A few minutes later, Jude emerged, wearing only his T-shirt and black cotton boxer shorts. His legs were long and strong and I could see a tan line above his knees. He must spend a lot of time outside in the sun, wearing shorts.
I gestured towards the bed, relieved that I’d remembered to make it that morning. There was a big patch of ginger fur on the duvet cover where Frazzle liked to sleep.
‘I can sleep on the floor, if you like,’ Jude said. ‘I’ve been up since four and I can sleep anywhere, anyway.’
‘It’s okay,’ I said. ‘I’m just going to have a shower.’ And get rid of every last scrap of the make-up that had settled into my pores and made my face feel grimy and horrible, and shave my legs for the second time that day, and rub body lotion all over myself, and spend far too long staring at my body in the mirror from all angles wondering if it would do.
‘Sure.’ Jude stretched out on the pillows, one arm behind his head so I could see a strip of pale skin between his top and his underwear, looking at his phone, as relaxed as if he was in his own bed at home, or wherever he thought of as home. I could see Frazzle’s tail sticking out from under the bed, but I didn’t think Jude had noticed it.
I showered quickly, worrying stupidly that he might come in. What did it matter if he did, since we were about to sleep together? But still, the idea was unsettling. My hair was already kinking and frizzing, but there was nothing I could do about that. And I wasn’t going to put on my lacy pyjamas, because that would be too try-hard. I settled for a T-shirt from a long-ago PETA convention, faded and worn almost see-through, and black pants, because if that was good enough for Jude surely it was good enough for me.
And, after I’d brushed my teeth a second time, I pushed open the bathroom door and approached the bed.
Jude was fast asleep, his head and feet sticking out from either end of the duvet. Frazzle was sitting on the little table where I worked and ate, looking deeply resentful.
So I got into bed and lay there, trying to breathe without making a sound, my mind racing like a poor caged hamster on a wheel. What if I’d read this all wrong, and Jude simply hadn’t felt the same sense of connection I had? What if he had genuinely just been knackered and hadn’t wanted to trek across London at night to get a train home? What if he simply didn’t fancy me? What if no one would ever fancy me again and I was destined to be alone forever and never have sex again?
I tried to relax, to identify points of tension in my body and release them, to distract my brain by counting backwards from three hundred, but nothing worked. Next to me, Jude turned over and flung an arm across the pillow. I looked at his face in the semi-darkness, admiring the swoop of his cheekbones and the clean line of his jaw, but it was still and unreadable in sleep. Eventually, I felt the heavy thud of Frazzle jumping up onto the bed. He didn’t get under the duvet with me as usual, though;, he just settled down on my feet in a disgruntled fashion and started to snore, and eventually I must have fallen asleep too.
I woke up at six as usual, and for a second everything felt normal. Then I remembered Jude. I turned over, cautiously, partly not wanting to wake him, partly fearing that he might have vanished in the night, or somehow never have been there at all. But he was. His glossy brown hair was spread out over my pillow, his long body was a Z shape under my duvet, his hand was so close my hair was almost brushing it.
Silently, I sat up. What was the etiquette here? Did I get up and get ready for work as usual, and head out? Did I wake him up and tell him he needed to leave? I didn’t have a clue. But I knew I needed to wee and clean my teeth, so I stood up and made my way to the bathroom, Frazzle padding behind me.
When I came out, Jude was awake, sitting up against the pillows.
‘Hello,’ I said.
‘Hello. What time is it?’
‘Ten past six.’
‘Good, nice and early. Come here.’
I went over and sat on the bed, and Jude took my hand. It was the first time he’d touched me since he’d helped me up from the pavement the previous day, which seemed like about a century ago. His hand was warm and dry and strong, and fitted perfectly around mine. I felt a surge of nervous excitement at his touch, not knowing what would happen next.