‘Hey,’ said Issy.
But Issy, thought Austin to himself, forgetting instantly a lot of other evenings. She was … she’d got under his skin. He couldn’t deny it. It was her eager face; the slightly wounded look it took on if she thought anyone was in trouble; the optimism of her little pink-iced cakes, and the dogged man hours she had put into making the shop a success; he liked it. He had to be honest. He liked all of it. He liked her. And here she was, face rosy and tentative, pointed up towards him. The fairy lights glowed in the tree, and the stars shone brightly overhead and after her ‘hey’ neither of them spoke: it didn’t seem to be in the least bit necessary. Issy was gazing up at him, biting her lip. Slowly, almost without even thinking what he was doing, he took his large hand and gently, with a feathery touch, ran it delicately down the line of her jaw.
Issy shivered under his touch and he saw her eyes widen. He brought his hand up now, and cupped her face with a firmer grasp, all the time staring straight into her wide green eyes. Issy felt her heart pound with excitement as if she’d been jump-started by a defibrillator. For the first time in what felt like months, the blood began to pump faster in her veins. She leaned into his warm dry hand, feeling its embrace on her skin, then looked at him with a message that was very clear: yes.
Graeme stepped out of the cab. His flight had been late getting in from Edinburgh, but he didn’t care; he had no time to waste. It was entirely possible she was still hanging about her stupid shop, icing buns or whatever it was she did, and if she wasn’t, he could just go straight to the flat. He slammed the cab door, not forgetting to ask for a blank receipt. He could see there were people outside the café, though it was hard to make out in the dim light. Issy must be among them. He walked out of the shadows and into the throng. The ones who knew Graeme immediately fell silent.
Issy, caught up in Austin’s eyes, only felt the change in the air around her. She turned her head, as Graeme, handsome as ever, beautifully dressed, stood underneath the street lights.
‘Issy,’ he said, quietly. Issy leapt back from Austin as if she’d been stung.
Austin looked up. Although they’d never met, he took one look at Graeme, and decided to leave.
Graeme had been doing a lot of thinking in Edinburgh. There was just something about that place. Lot of expensive real estate too. It definitely felt like there was something in the air, something was picking up again. But it was just so bloody quaint, that city; full of little alleyways and hidden squares and cobblestones and back streets. And everyone was completely mad for it. You could see it; the tourists, the students, the people coming up for a look, or the people who wanted to live there. It was all about character nowadays. People didn’t want a skyscraper or a brick-walled loft or a cool box to live in, although he didn’t understand why – he thought all of these things, with their air con and security keys, were obviously better than old places. But not everyone agreed with him. People wanted quaint old places, with ‘personality’. Graeme thought this was bollocks – people should go for stuff that worked and places that were comfortable. But on the other hand, if they were prepared to pay over the odds for it – he reasoned as he lounged in his expensive turret room, in his expensive boutique hotel – if they were prepared to pay over the odds for properties that looked cute, then who was he, Graeme, to stand in their way?
And that was when he’d had his brilliant idea. He was incredibly impressed with himself. And it would work for everyone. He had to get back to London right away, it was so brilliant. The Pear Tree Condominiums.
He knew condominium only meant flat, but it sounded American, and in his experience American was always better. Live/work spaces in a quaint old courtyard, only steps from Stoke Newington High Street, but lovely and peaceful and away from the road. But the clever bit – the really clever bit – was that they would look old, but in fact that would just be the frontage. They’d redo the whole thing. They’d tear out all those stupid little windows with the glass you couldn’t see through, and the draughty old wooden doors, and replace them with proper PVC frames and metal doors with a fingerprint entry system (the City boys loved those), and security cameras perched above them – in fact, his heart had really started to beat fast at this bit. Maybe they could even put a gate across the alleyway, so it was like you had your own private compound! That would be ace! And you could park in the courtyard, they’d just cut down the tree. It would be fantastic. And it would all look cute but be full of the latest hi-tech gizmos – air con, and wine fridges, and state-of-the-art entertainment systems.
The best thing was, he congratulated himself, he could cut Issy in on the deal. After all, it was only fair; she’d brought the area to his attention, which deserved a finder’s fee. She could come back and work with him – but not taking the minutes now, she could be a proper agent if she wanted. That would be a huge leg-up for her. And he was going to … he couldn’t believe he was going to do it. If anyone had said Graeme, you old sap, you are going to turn into a house cat, get under the whip, he wouldn’t have believed them.
But there were things, he had come to realize since they’d been apart, that were good about Issy, when she wasn’t flaying her fingers to the bone in that stupid café. Her cooking. Her interest in him. The way she made everything feel slightly softer, slightly easier and gentler in his life when he was out fighting like a tiger all day. He liked it. He wanted it around. He was prepared to make the biggest sacrifice, while also improving her life immeasurably – no more 6am starts – and making a huge pile of money into the bargain. It was so obvious. He had solved everything. He was going to be top dog at the firm again. He was going to take his mates’ slagging off about the fact that he’d settled for a woman who, OK, wasn’t exactly a size 10 Swedish underwear model. He could handle it. He knew what he wanted. And of course she’d agree.
‘Issy,’ he said again, and she looked at him. She seemed slightly nervous, he realized. She must be expectant and excited; she must know something was up. He was going to blow her mind, right from the off.
‘Iss … I’ve been an idiot. I was a total idiot to let you slip through my fingers. I’ve really missed you. Can we get back together?’
Issy’s mind was an absolute hive of confusion. Helena was shaking her head. Graeme stepped forward, noting quickly the cards and gifts piled up and coming to the obvious conclusion. Why, this was even better!