They first crossed paths in a little café on Baker Street. She was perched at a corner table, waiting for a friend, a steaming mug of coffee beside her and a slice of cake on a plate. He had popped in for a quick caffeine fix and a moment to mull over his future.
She was a striking young woman, and he was a likeable bloke who never shied away from striking up a chat with a pretty face. He found her instantly appealing, and it seemed she felt the same.
May I join you? he asked in a tone that left little room for a no.
Sure, but Im waiting for a mate, so you wont have to linger too long, she replied, taking a bite of the cake.
Im in no hurry, he said, I just need a few minutes to exchange numbers. Thatll be more than enough.
And who told you Id hand over my phone? she shot back, breaking off another piece of cake.
Because you like sweets, and sweet things are only for decent people. So were a perfect match Im fond of sweets myself.
Ah, so youre a decent chap then? she laughed.
Absolutely. Cant you see it? Im a very kind and proper fellow, he declared, sipping his coffee.
Ive never seen such confidence before, she remarked.
Ive never seen a beauty like you either, he replied.
Emily, she said, extending her hand.
Tom, he answered, taking her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, and leaning in for a kiss that left Emily feeling a bit flushed.
Excuse me, she said, arent you being a tad forward with a complete stranger?
Im the opposite of pushy, he protested. Besides, who am I being forward with if not the most gorgeous girl in the room?
Actually, not a girl but a lady, Emily corrected, flashing the wedding band on her ring finger. Im married.
And what ever stopped anyone before? Today youre hitched, tomorrow youre not marriage these days is fragile, almost disposable, he quipped.
Not for me, Emily said. In my family a marriage is for life. So, dear, I think its time we part ways.
Come now, are you serious? I feel theres a spark here. Lets trade numbers it doesnt bind us to anything. If we ever want to chat again, well need the digits, he urged.
Youre awfully confident. Why do you think Ill give you my number?
Im not overconfident, just earnest. If we like each other, why not meet again? he said with a grin that made Emilys resolve wobble.
Fine, write it down, she said, dictating her mobile number.
Ill call you now, and youll keep my number too. Youll need it later, he replied.
Alright, Ill make sure of that. Now you should move to another table I see my friend arriving, and I dont need any extra gossip, Emily suggested.
No worries, I get the hint. Ill disappear, but well cross paths again, he promised, gathering his cup and slipping into the far corner of the café.
A week later Tom rang Emilys phone. Shed been expecting his call, so she met him again at the same spot.
Emily, Tom began, Id like to get to know you better.
Tom, she sipped her coffee, Im married. I work as a nurse at St. Marys, and I could, in theory, see you. But I have a husband, and hes terribly jealous. Nicholas served overseas on a contract, now runs a roguestyle combat academy for youngsters. Hes strong, charismatic, carries me like a sack of potatoes, and Id never cheat on him. Besides, Im staunchly against infidelity its downright dangerous.
Emily, Tom answered confidently, Im smitten with you and cant just walk away. Im a programmer, Ive never lifted a hammer, yet Im not scared of your husband. I want to be friends, maybe more.
Tom worked for a modest software startup in Shoreditch. He wasnt rolling in cash, but his salary was enough to afford a rotating dating life. He was a dedicated bachelor who never missed a pretty face and Emily was no exception. He felt she might feel the same, and he was determined to see it through.
They met again, and that set the tone for what followed. Emily told her husband shed be on a night shift, then stayed over at Toms flat. Neither noticed how quickly they fell for each other; they were soon inseparable, meeting whenever the schedule allowed.
One evening Emily called Tom.
My husbands away on a competition for a week, so Ill be expecting you at my place tonight, she said.
Emily, isnt that risky? Why not meet at my flat as usual? Tom asked.
No, I want you here. Ill cook a proper romantic dinner and we can sit like normal people. Im fed up meeting in your bachelor cave! she declared.
Alright, Ill be there, Tom replied.
That night Tom arrived at Emilys door, clutching a bouquet, a bottle of champagne, a decent wine, a cake and a box of chocolates. Shed prepared a delightful meal, the bubbles doing their usual work, and after dinner they retired to the bedroom. The night promised to be as romantic as the candlelit dinner.
Around two in the morning a frantic rap sounded at the door. They jumped out of bed, bewildered. Emily peered through the peephole.
Its my husband, Tom this is it! Hide somewhere! she whispered.
But where? Tom asked, eyes wide.
I dont know, just think of something! she replied, trembling.
Whats happening? Emily murmured, halfasleep.
Emily, open up, cant you recognise me? a drunken voice boomed from the hallway. I left my keys at work, so Im banging. Open up, quick.
Now what do we do? Emily, shaking, looked at Tom.
Open the door, what else can we do? the pale, stumbling husband answered.
Tom shoved his belongings under the bed and, still in his boxers, bolted into the bathroom.
Where did you get so plastered? Emily shouted. Why didnt you leave?
My coach bus broke down, we were all getting home in borrowed cars. Since we didnt make it, we stopped for a quick drink in a bar and got a bit stuck, Nicholas slurred.
Just a quick drink, you say, Emily snapped, you cant even stand!
Dont worry, love, Ive got it under control. I just need the loo, he mumbled.
Use the loo tomorrow, Emily commanded. Now get back to bed and sleep!
Emily, I need the loo now! Nicholas protested.
A drunken mans anthem burst out of his bassy throat: No, no, no, I want it now, I want it now! He laughed like a child, reveling in his own joke.
He staggered toward the toilet. The bathroom was a cramped, combined wetroom a baffling British design that puts the toilet right next to the bath. Emily stared, frozen, as Nicholas headed straight for Tom.
The panic seized her; she imagined the worst and shut her eyes, bracing for the inevitable. Yet no sound emerged from the bathroom. How could Nicholas not see Tom? Where could Tom be in that tiny space?
Tom, quick as a cat, leapt onto the raised edge of the bath, scrambled onto the tiled ledge and sprawled flat against the wall, ceiling and floor, clutching the tiles to stay hidden. Nicholas, eyes fixated on the porcelain throne, missed him entirely, humming his silly tune.
Emily, trembling by the bathroom door, could not work out where Tom had vanished. When Tom finally saw the hulking figure of Nicholas and his clenched fists, he realised that being spotted would mean the end of his romance perhaps his last day. He stayed perfectly still, barely breathing.
Nicholas lingered on the toilet, belting out his song, oblivious to the drama. The faint smell of stale beer and the occasional splash of water rose, tickling Toms nose. He tried to detach a hand from the wall to wipe his nose, but the cramped space made it impossible. He felt a sneeze building, and when it finally exploded, the echo in the tiny room was like a tiny thunderclap.
Startled, Nicholas looked up and, for a split second, thought he saw a crucifix on the wall. He shrank back, clutched his chest, and with a dramatic sigh, slumped off the toilet, fainting.
Tom seized the moment, vaulted off the ledge, and sprinted out of the bathroom. Emily stood pale, still not quite grasping what had just happened.
Tom grabbed his few belongings and bolted down the stairs, barefoot, in his boxers and a sack of clothes. No lift could have matched the speed of his flight the fear of Nicholass wrath was his own personal elevator.
A few minutes later Nicholas came round. He looked up, saw nothing, and mumbled something about drinking less. Emily scolded him gently, Maybe lay off the booze a bit, love.
