Jamie Holland - One Thing Leads to Another

That evening, with bags and boxes all around them, they once again toasted the challenge they had set themselves. They were in buoyant moods, the ordeal of moving house finally over. The early summer sun and new home helped create a creeping sense of confidence. It was as though by merely agreeing to the pact, they were sure to achieve their goals.

Flin thought it the most wonderful serendipity bumping into Poppy again. They had been at primary school together and hadn’t seen each other for – yes, they agreed, it must be – sixteen years. In fact, it had been she who had recognized him as they stood wedged up against each other on the Piccadilly Line. It had taken Flin a moment to place her, but he felt justified in that: it seemed scarcely possible that the haughty girl who’d been his childhood object of hate could have blossomed into someone so … well, gorgeous. A carriageload of silent commuters shared their reunion. Oblivious to the glances and raised eyebrows, Poppy asked him a barrage of questions. What was he up to? Where was he living? Were his parents still in Wiltshire? It was so good to see him – and after all this time, he hadn’t changed a bit; she’d recognized him at once. Well, she certainly had changed, Flin thought to himself, and very much for the better. As the train pulled into Leicester Square, Flin moved to leave her.

‘I think it’s brilliant having found you again after all these years.’ She beamed at him, bright teeth and full, luscious lips. ‘Will you come to my party? It’s in Sussex.’

‘I’d love to.’ Flin meant it. She kissed him goodbye.

‘You must come,’ she cooed as the doors closed.

As he stood on the escalator well-I-nevering to himself, he supposed her invite was nothing more than conversational gush, and assumed he’d be lucky if he saw her again before another sixteen years had gone by. But much to his delight, that very same afternoon as he was writing up some production notes, she called.

‘Poppy! Hi!’ he exclaimed, startled. ‘How did you find me?’

‘Easy as pie!’ she told him triumphantly. ‘You told me who you worked for and there aren’t any other film companies with that name.’

This time they exchanged numbers and addresses properly. ‘Actually, I’ve just moved in,’ he told her, ‘last weekend, and you’re the first person I’ve given my new address to.’

‘I’m honoured,’ she replied, laughing. ‘Invite me to supper and I can be the first person to see it too.’

‘OK,’ Flin said, ‘as soon as we’ve made it respectable, you’re on.’

In the meantime, she told him, she was going to put an invite to her party in the post immediately. ‘And you must promise me you’ll come,’ she insisted once more.

‘I promise,’ he assured her, leaning back in his chair and smiling. What an encouraging start to the competition. He needed this excitement in his life and was fantasizing as to where it might lead when Tiffany put her head round his cubicle.

‘Daydreaming again, Flin?’

‘Hm? Yes, well, something funny’s happened. I was just thinking about it.’

‘Oh yeah? Let’s hear it.’

Flin told her. ‘What d’you think?’ he asked.

‘Play your cards right – who knows? Sounds to me like she’s making a hit on you though.’

‘You reckon?’

‘Yeah, I reckon. Anyway, keep me posted.’

Flin liked Tiffany. She’d only recently come over from Australia, but already he considered her his best friend in the department. He got on well with the others, but they all seemed a bit neurotic, especially his boss Martina, who, Flin had once been told, even put her shrink on expenses. There was no side to Tiffany though – or at least none that he’d seen. And they gossiped about everything: Flin told her all about his friends and the various dramas in his life, and she told him about hers.

It was good to be in their house at last and now with Poppy suddenly reappearing things seemed to be looking up. He had a good feeling about it – almost as though fate was lending a hand: new house, new girlfriend; it simply had to happen. Living with his sister had been very restricting. Both Sam and her boyfriend Will were very easy-going about Flin staying, and he adored his older sister, but however welcoming she and Will might be, Flin was conscious that it was their house and that he was nothing more than a guest there. And now he’d moved in with Jessica and Geordie, his oldest friends – it was going to be such fun, just like the old days when they were living near each other at home and spending all their time together. And so much better than his last house. He’d had a lucky escape there: the lease had originally been for a year, but when Eddie had decided to get married, they’d all agreed to move out after six months. It had been such a relief. Flin liked Eddie a lot, but his friend Bomber – well, just thinking about him made him wince. Putting Bomber immediately out of his mind, Flin punched in Geordie’s mobile number.

With only four or five miles to go, Geordie knew it might take him another hour to get home. It was nearly four o’clock and he could not understand why narrowing the M4 from three lanes to two should, at this time of day, cause the traffic to grind to a standstill. Each time this happened, he felt an overwhelming sense of frustration descend upon him. It was such a waste of his life. He had begun the journey in Manchester and from thirty miles north of Birmingham to thirty miles on its other side the motorway had been one huge contraflow. Those sixty miles had taken him the best part of three hours; the whole journey, so far, six hours. Ridiculous. He whacked his hand on the steering wheel. In the car next to him was a man in a light grey suit picking his nose, blankly devoid of emotion.

Geordie was not a great fan of London. He knew this was largely because he was still comparatively new to the place, but everyone seemed so rude. He hated being shouted at by overly aggressive cabbies, carved up by monstrous buses and jostled and accosted on the streets; he liked to be able to walk in a straight line along the pavement. Right now, in the throes of yet another hold-up on the roads, he was feeling particularly disgruntled. London may have been voted the coolest city in the world, but this did little to sway Geordie – he preferred a country pub to a London bar any day.

None the less, most of his friends seemed to live there, and although there was so much about the capital that he disliked, he knew he was basically quite happy and that it was too early to move out. That could wait, although he did have some sense of a grand plan: he would continue to work in London for another year or two, obtain some crucial experience in the IT industry, and then get the hell out into a business of his own. Working for Burt Kwang at FDU might be boring, but Geordie knew he had to put up with it: give his presentations, visit clients, learn about the industry and not let Burt’s indifference to him get him down. It was a case of going through the motions until the right opportunity appeared. In the meantime, he had the new house to think about. He needed to borrow some tools from his father to make the shelves and get the place painted. And he needed to sign up to a new tennis club now that the rugby season was over. He might be tall and fairly thin at the moment, but too much sitting about in his car without exercise would soon change that. Anyway, he liked feeling healthy.

After successfully blocking out an aggressive-looking BMW from cutting in ahead of him, Geordie flicked back a lock of his drooping blond mop and then looked in his mirror. At least he was ahead of the massive queue behind him. He glanced down at his phone, and was wondering whether he should call someone when it rang.