Chances by Freya North

me?
    But she couldn’t. Not yet, not tonight.
    ‘I ought to go – last trains, and all that.’
    He regarded her for a long moment, assessing whether to push it tonight or pursue it tomorrow. Ultimately, he shrugged and then nodded. ‘OK. I understand. Let’s find you a cab.’
    His conceding made her waver – so different from Tim always pushing for what he wanted, Vita eroding her own wishes in order to please.
    ‘It was fun,’ Rick said. ‘Here’s a cab.’ He whistled through his fingers.
    ‘I’d love to be able to do that,’ Vita said, blowing hopelessly on hers. Suddenly Rick took her fingers between his lips, kissing the tips of them before filling Vita’s mouth with his. Oh God, the feeling!
    Rick cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets, leaning forwards to speak to the driver. ‘King’s Cross.’
    Straightening, he grinned at Vita and despite the din of the cab engine and a waft of diesel, they stood motionless on the pavement for a suspended moment and she thought, Oh, sod the cab and the train – come on, Vita, come on!
    But it was only a thought and though she’d opened her mouth, she just couldn’t chance words out loud. Again, though, Rick made use of her parted lips, leaning towards her, his hands lightly on her waist, kissing her mouth slowly with unmistakable intent. Just as Vita started to kiss him back, he pulled away.
    ‘Hop in, lady – your carriage awaits.’
    ‘Let it wait,’ she said, her hands at his neck, tilting her face towards his, kissing him back. Her lips and his, both wet with the torrent of kisses they were trying to hold at bay because they couldn’t help but be aware that they were in the middle of the pavement on Fortis Green, the taxi’s meter was ticking, she wasn’t going to stay with Rick, she was going home and trains were waiting. Oh, but just to kiss him for a little longer!
    ‘Safe journey,’ he winked at her. ‘Goodnight.’
    ‘Sleep tight,’ she winked back.
    ‘Like a Bug in a Rug,’ he laughed, leaning into the cab, kissing her again.
    And then the taxi drove off.
    You really can’t call that a dawn chorus, Vita thought, wide awake at just gone five with the parrots attacking her sleep much as they were pillaging the pears on her tree. She lay there, listening to their screeching, unsure whether they were cheering or berating the pears for falling. She’d been to the window and counted five birds this morning. Though she’d gone back to bed, sleep was impossible but she didn’t need to be up for at least another two hours and she happily lay there, indulging in playing back all the fun of the fair. Would she see him again? Was it just schmooze? She didn’t think herself a particularly good judge of character but Rick did seem genuine. Perhaps he’d ring her next week and see if she was happy with her order. Or she could email him, couldn’t she? Did the Rules – those stupid, contrived, dating-etiquette stipulations she’d read about in her twenties – also define dating in one’s thirties? Did she have to wait for him to make contact? Was she allowed to send an email then? A friendly one, a little larky, perhaps to say, Oi, you! I want my further discount! She’d wait until after the weekend, she decided, plenty of time to muse and practise.
    When Vita opened the shop the next morning, she imagined all the traders setting up their stands in Ally Pally and the high street in Muswell Hill starting to hum with activity. Tables and chairs on the pavement outside the cafés; perhaps the chewing-gum man would be searching for the perfect blobs for that day’s work. Maybe the day staff at the John Baird were hoovering and polishing and spritzing away the linger of last night’s spilt beer. Then she dragged herself back to Wynford and the first thing she did was look for the best spot for Rick’s wares which would be arriving by courier sometime the next day. Time for the teasel figurines to go, she thought. Bless them –