know—”
“Just that you don’t go in for all that
mwah-mwah
stuff,” Leo suggested. “Quite right, too, it’s awful. Hate it. I’ve got friends who do four.”
“Four?
Really
? Are they English?”
“Ha! No, they’re not. Rolf’ll do up to six, if he can get away with it. More, if the girl isn’t resisting. He just carries on until she shoves him off.”
I snorted, which wasn’t very ladylike, but Leo didn’t seem to mind.
“So, um, where are we headed?” I asked.
He gestured toward the towering Georgian townhouses that surrounded the tree-lined park. If you could ignore the two lanes of traffic circling it, Berkeley Square was quite a romantic spot, not too far from Green Park in the art-galleries-and-designer-boutiques part of London. Lights were twinkling in the windows, and the sky was unusually clear behind the lines of old plane trees that crisscrossed the square.
“I thought we could eat round here, if that’s okay with you?”
“It’s fine with me,” I said as we started walking. I was nearer his shoulder in these heels than I had been in my trainers the last time we’d met. “I like Berkeley Square.”
“Really? What about it, in particular?” Leo sounded interested. “Are you into art galleries?”
“No, it’s the trees. Don’t laugh,” I added, because my thoughts on London trees tended to make even Ted snigger. “I love the squares in London where the trees are as old as the buildings—or even older, like the buildings have had to fit around
them
. I like imagining where the roots go, how far under the ground they stretch.”
“Uh-huh.”
Leo hadn’t sniggered, so I carried on. “I imagine them touching the Underground tunnels, and winding round wine cellars. I know they don’t, obviously, they’re not that deep, but I always loved those cross sections of London we had in history lessons. Roman roads, and medieval pottery shards, and plague pits, and tree roots joining them all up.”
“That’s a very poetic way of looking at it.” We were at the pedestrian crossing now, and Leo put out a hand to stop the taxi that was trying to cut across us. It stopped at once, and I felt more special than usual as he waved me across first.
“It’s a known fact that trees cut down on crime too,” I went on, in case I was sounding too flaky. “And they’re natural air filters too. Beautiful
and
useful!”
“Like the city’s lungs,” said Leo. He glanced across at me. “I sometimes think that when I look out of my office window—how green London is between the buildings. How green it must once have been when it was all villages.”
I stopped.
I
often thought that. “Do you? Honestly?”
“ ’Fraid so. I like to imagine the villages around the church spires. Before the streets joined them all up into one big sprawl.” Leo nodded, then pretended to wince at the geekiness of it, and I laughed, and felt something tingle between us.
“Did you know,” I said, eager to get my fact in while we were still in the square, “that that plane tree there is worth seven hundred and fifty thousand pounds?” I pointed to a thick tree in the corner, gnarled and leafless but still dignified, like an old soldier watching the houses. I mean, I was second to no woman in my love of trees, but that was an
incredible
amount of money.
“How do they work that out?”
“It’s down to age, and size, and how many people benefit from it being there. That plane’s been there since the storming of the Bastille. Since George Washington became president.” I could never quite get my head round that. “It’s a living thing, isn’t it? Imagine what it’s seen!”
“Well, quite. I mean, all
sorts
goes on round here. …”
Leo had stopped walking to look back at the tree, then turned to me. His mouth was curled into a half smile at one corner, and he seemed genuinely intrigued. “That is the most interesting fact I’ve heard today, by quite a long stretch.”
I started to
“Just that you don’t go in for all that
mwah-mwah
stuff,” Leo suggested. “Quite right, too, it’s awful. Hate it. I’ve got friends who do four.”
“Four?
Really
? Are they English?”
“Ha! No, they’re not. Rolf’ll do up to six, if he can get away with it. More, if the girl isn’t resisting. He just carries on until she shoves him off.”
I snorted, which wasn’t very ladylike, but Leo didn’t seem to mind.
“So, um, where are we headed?” I asked.
He gestured toward the towering Georgian townhouses that surrounded the tree-lined park. If you could ignore the two lanes of traffic circling it, Berkeley Square was quite a romantic spot, not too far from Green Park in the art-galleries-and-designer-boutiques part of London. Lights were twinkling in the windows, and the sky was unusually clear behind the lines of old plane trees that crisscrossed the square.
“I thought we could eat round here, if that’s okay with you?”
“It’s fine with me,” I said as we started walking. I was nearer his shoulder in these heels than I had been in my trainers the last time we’d met. “I like Berkeley Square.”
“Really? What about it, in particular?” Leo sounded interested. “Are you into art galleries?”
“No, it’s the trees. Don’t laugh,” I added, because my thoughts on London trees tended to make even Ted snigger. “I love the squares in London where the trees are as old as the buildings—or even older, like the buildings have had to fit around
them
. I like imagining where the roots go, how far under the ground they stretch.”
“Uh-huh.”
Leo hadn’t sniggered, so I carried on. “I imagine them touching the Underground tunnels, and winding round wine cellars. I know they don’t, obviously, they’re not that deep, but I always loved those cross sections of London we had in history lessons. Roman roads, and medieval pottery shards, and plague pits, and tree roots joining them all up.”
“That’s a very poetic way of looking at it.” We were at the pedestrian crossing now, and Leo put out a hand to stop the taxi that was trying to cut across us. It stopped at once, and I felt more special than usual as he waved me across first.
“It’s a known fact that trees cut down on crime too,” I went on, in case I was sounding too flaky. “And they’re natural air filters too. Beautiful
and
useful!”
“Like the city’s lungs,” said Leo. He glanced across at me. “I sometimes think that when I look out of my office window—how green London is between the buildings. How green it must once have been when it was all villages.”
I stopped.
I
often thought that. “Do you? Honestly?”
“ ’Fraid so. I like to imagine the villages around the church spires. Before the streets joined them all up into one big sprawl.” Leo nodded, then pretended to wince at the geekiness of it, and I laughed, and felt something tingle between us.
“Did you know,” I said, eager to get my fact in while we were still in the square, “that that plane tree there is worth seven hundred and fifty thousand pounds?” I pointed to a thick tree in the corner, gnarled and leafless but still dignified, like an old soldier watching the houses. I mean, I was second to no woman in my love of trees, but that was an
incredible
amount of money.
“How do they work that out?”
“It’s down to age, and size, and how many people benefit from it being there. That plane’s been there since the storming of the Bastille. Since George Washington became president.” I could never quite get my head round that. “It’s a living thing, isn’t it? Imagine what it’s seen!”
“Well, quite. I mean, all
sorts
goes on round here. …”
Leo had stopped walking to look back at the tree, then turned to me. His mouth was curled into a half smile at one corner, and he seemed genuinely intrigued. “That is the most interesting fact I’ve heard today, by quite a long stretch.”
I started to
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