Chapter 21

21

Outside, Frida erupts into giggles. “I always wanted to say, ‘I QUIT!’ ” Her eyes shine. “But you don’t have much of a chance when you’re a dog walker. Haha! ‘Let’s blow this joint!’ ” she repeats to herself. “I can’t believe I said that!”

I can’t help but grin at her excitement, despite my rising internal panic that not only have I missed Jonah again, but also the chances of finding him at a random hospital when there are so many in London, and all of them so big, is next to zero.

I need to get home and make a new plan. Maybe convince Merritt to give me a clue. Surely by now she can see that luck is not on my side, despite my very best efforts. We walk to the nearest bus stop, only to find that the queue is at least thirty deep on account of the Tube strike. One jam-packed bus drives straight past without even bothering to stop.

I open my car-sharing app and press the button, despite the surge pricing. Somehow, overspending doesn’t hold the same fear it once did—I have nothing to lose!

“I’m sorry you didn’t find Jonah,” Frida says, once we’re neatly in the back of a blissfully air-conditioned cab. “I can tell you are very much attracted to him. You made quite the fuss at our drawing class. I wonder if we’ll ever be allowed back in?”

“It’s much, much more than attraction,” I mutter. “I wouldn’t make such a fuss if it was just about attraction.”

“Ah. I wish I could find much more than attraction.” Frida looks dreamy for a moment, leaning back on the headrest, her arms behind her head. “But even just attraction is hard enough to find. I thought in London I’d meet lots of people but everyone is always”—she starts to do a sort of robotic impression—“eyes down to the ground, don’t talk to me, no eye contact allowed on the Central line! I thought maybe Claude at the drawing class would be nice. But he was not. I thought Gant was my soulmate. But he left me. So now what am I supposed to do?”

“I once heard that we actually have up to five soulmates,” I say, remembering what Merritt told me in Evermore.

“Who told you that?” Frida removes her arms from behind her head and leans forward. “Was it Gwyneth Paltrow? Because I do not trust her. Never again will I trust Gwyneth Paltrow or her magazine.”

I laugh. “I’m going to need to know more about what she did to make you so mad.”

“I’ll never share. It’s too humiliating.”

“No. It wasn’t Gwyneth Paltrow. It was a woman I met recently. She…well, she actually introduced me to Jonah. She was the one who saw that there was something special between us. Told me to go after him.”

“She sounds very insightful. I would love to meet her.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to meet this woman.”

“I think I’ll do whatever it takes to find love. I’ve even been learning about witchcraft, and though it can help in many ways, it can’t bring true love your way. That’s up to the Fates.”

I decide not to baulk at the bonkersly casual way in which Frida refers to taking up witchcraft, because who am I to question any supernatural inclinations when I am literally a dead person on the Earth for a borrowed amount of time? Instead, I ask her to tell me a little more about Gant. She talks about how she was with him for two years and how he broke up with her around once per month because he kept changing his mind about whether he was in love with her.

“I’ve been single for my whole life,” I tell her as we turn onto my road. “It’s not so bad. It sounds like Gant leaving was a blessing in disguise.”

“My brain knows that, but I think it’ll take my heart some time to catch up.”

When we reach my house I realise that Aled is leaning against my front door, looking intently at his phone. We climb out of the car.

“Aled!” I say, a swarm of guilt enveloping me at not replying to his text and a flicker of alarm that he has turned up to my actual house as a consequence. “What are you doing here?”

He waves hello. “You didn’t respond to my message. To have gone from being so pally to nothing at all made me worried that you had perhaps drunk too much, or that something terrible had happened to you.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “But here I am. Alive!”

For how long, who knows? But for now.

“Who is this?” Frida asks in a weird voice.

“This is Aled, who works at Tyburnia Library. Aled, this is Frida, a professional dog walker in the area.”

“I’m Delphie’s friend.” Frida holds her hand out.

“Me too!” Aled gasps, as if this is a level of coincidence that ought to be investigated by experts.

“Thanks for the company, Frida,” I say, unlocking my door and heading inside. “And for…you know, dancing with me.”

“My pleasure.” Frida steps into the building lobby with me. Aled follows. Are they expecting me to invite them up? I don’t invite people up. I’ve never invited people up. “LET’S BLOW THIS JOINT!” she yells once more, her hands on her hips. Aled laughs heartily at this although he has no idea what she’s referring to.

Within seconds Cooper peers out into the hallway to see what’s causing the noise.

He looks at me curiously, as if he doesn’t know who I am, and then his eyebrows shoot up, his gaze skimming over my hair. I wait for him to make some disagreeable comment, but instead he looks between Aled and Frida, a puzzled expression on his face, which is fair, considering I’ve never had people in the lobby before.

“Sorry for the hullabaloo,” Frida giggles. “We’ve been hunting for a man at the Shard. It was a very fun evening and we’re all a little overexcited.”

“Did you find him?” Cooper asks, eyebrows still raised. I shake my head no and open my mouth to thank him for his apology text, but before I can, Aled gasps loudly.

“Hold on a moment!” Aled narrows his eyes at Cooper. “I knew I recognised you!”

Cooper’s shoulders slump.

“You’re R. L. Cooper!”

I screw up my face. “Who the hell is R. L. Cooper?”

“Um, only one of the best crime writers of our generation!” Aled’s voice rises with excitement. “Your books are always out on loan at the library. But there’s not been a new one in so long. Why is that? Wow. THE R. L. Cooper himself. Tell me, R. L., how did you come up with the bank heist plot in Money Maims, Money Kills? It was ingenious. What is your process? Where do you get your inspiration?”

Cooper is a writer? Of crime books? I thought he was a computer programmer. Wait—is that how he had access to the police database? Crime writers usually have people in the police to help them with research—or at least that’s what happens on one of my favourite TV shows, Murder in the Pretty Village. Is that how he was able to locate Jonah so quickly? I glance at Cooper and see that he’s now shuffling from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable with Aled’s line of questioning.

“Okay!” I yawn in such an over-the-top way that it’s impossible for Aled to ignore. “I really do need to go. Frida, will you be okay getting home from here?”

“Of course! It’s only a five-minute walk to Edgware Road.”

“Edgware Road is on my way!” Aled beams.

“We’ll walk together?” Frida grins amiably. “I would love to hear all about the library.” I can’t help but smile. How Frida doesn’t have more friends is beyond me. I’ve never in my life met someone so comfortable around new people. I feel physical discomfort when I have to make small talk—but she seems to actively enjoy it.

“I’ll be back!” Aled says to Cooper as Frida leads him away. “We must get you booked in for an event at the library. And, Delphie, I will be in touch about the best friendship, do not think I have forgotten!”

As I close the door on Aled and Frida, Cooper clears his throat.

“Thanks for that. Haven’t been recognised in a while.”

I yawn again. “No worries.”

He looks like he’s about to say something else, when a door creaks open, the head of Mrs. Ernestine poking out, her craggy face all pinched up. “It’s like bloody King’s Cross station out here,” she spits. “Do none of you have homes to go to? I’m trying to eat my lasagne and watch Breaking Bad, and all I can hear is ruckus and bloody doors slamming. All and sundry popping in and out like it’s a damn thoroughfare.”

Mrs. Ernestine terrifies me. Every time I see her, she’s arguing with someone. Out on the street or in the lobby of the building. Sometimes, when I walk past her door, I hear her screeching inside her flat, god only knows at who. Plus she has a tattoo on her knuckles that reads Never Again. I often find myself wondering what it means, every conclusion I reach making me even more determined to stay out of her way.

“Sorry, Mrs. Ernestine,” I say as politely as I can, bowing my head a little.

“Yes. Ever so sorry,” Cooper adds, also bowing his head a little.

Is he making fun of me?

Mrs. Ernestine rolls her eyes and backs away into her apartment, glaring at the pair of us until her door is closed again.

Cooper reaches his hand out towards me, and I’m pretty sure he’s going to touch my cheek—the thought of which makes my face flame—but his hand moves swiftly to my hair, slowly plucking something out.

He holds up a yellow petal between finger and thumb. I pat my head self-consciously. It must be from Frida’s flower crown.

“Thank you,” I say stiffly before turning and running up to my flat, slamming the door behind me.

Stillnothing? Jeez.

“Why are you so fucking elusive, Jonah?” I huff. “I’m literally depending on you for my life.”

I imagine Jonah grinning at me, running a hand through his lovely caramel hair. “I’m worth the effort,” he says in my imagination. I picture running my own hands through his hair, and a little shiver of delight softens the anxiety for a brief, beautiful moment.

“Merritt, you have to help me,” I mutter. “Can’t you see I’m doing everything I can? Please!”

I wait for a text, an appearance, anything. But nothing happens. With a sigh, I take my sketches out of my bag and unroll them on the kitchen table, pinning them flat with salt and pepper shakers. I touch a finger lightly to one of them, a close-up of Kat’s face drawn in a free, almost loopy style. My heart lifts, despite itself. This is good. I glance over at the stack of oil paints I’m forever buying but am too scared to open. I wonder briefly what life would have looked like if I’d never stopped making art. Would I still be in this situation? I push the thought away.

There’s a firm knock at the door.

My heart leaps. Merritt? Though surely she would never do anything as pedestrian as knocking.

I open up to find Cooper standing there, arms folded across his chest.

I sigh. “If you’re coming to me with anything that could be even slightly considered stressful, then I beg of you, go back from whence you came. It’s been a tricky day.”

“Whence you came? Why are you talking like that?”

I narrow my eyes. “Actually, I’m not sure. I think it’s your formal demeanour. The, you know, stiffness. I respond in kind.”

“The stiffness?”

“Oh, come on. You must know that about yourself,” I say, backing into my apartment as he takes a large step in and closes the door behind him. “I’d even go so far as to say you’ve cultivated it.”

“The same way you have with your ‘I’m a lone wolf’ shtick. And it is shtick.”

“You must know all about shtick, making things up for a living?”

“I don’t do that anymore.” Cooper clears his throat, strides across the room, and sits on my sofa without being invited to. His jeans hitch up. His socks are yellow.

I throw my hands up. “What do you want? I am currently trying to find my way out of a rather large life pickle and I’m short on time.”

“I see. Can I help?”

I narrow my eyes. He’d only be offering to help if…“You need another favour?”

He shifts in his seat and runs his hand over his jaw. “I do. I was going to ask you downstairs but you literally ran away.” His voice dips with disbelief.

I tut. “Like I said, I’m short on time. Anyway, did you not hear what I just said about bringing chaos to my doorstep?”

“Like you did with me when you barged into my flat and insisted I help you? Look, I really am sorry for being rude the other night. My sister…It’s not something I talk about. Ever. With anyone.”

I soften slightly. “I understand. I shouldn’t have been so nosy. How can I help?”

Cooper’s mouth bunches to the side. “My mother…”

“Amy. Yes.”

“She wants you to join us at the aquarium. To meet my Aunt Beverley. Tomorrow morning.”

I grimace. “Sorry, no can do. I need to go to the park again to find Jonah.”

“You still haven’t found him?”

I huff. “It’s…complicated.”

Cooper tilts his head to the side and crosses one leg over the other. “Have you considered that he may be actively avoiding you?”

I make a face. “Jonah isn’t like that.”

“And yet…”

“Are we done here, Cooper? I have things to do.”

Cooper leans forward. “Surely it would only take you a few minutes to inform Jonah of the…issue? And then you’d be free, right?”

I sigh. If only it were as simple as that. But it’s not. Not only do I have to locate a man who seems never to stay in one place for long enough, I then have to get him to kiss me with barely any preamble. I can’t be dallying around an aquarium in the middle of all this.

“Maybe another time, eh?” I puzzle for a moment, curiosity getting the better of me. “Anyway, why on earth would your mum want me to meet your aunt?”

Cooper looks at his feet, which are booted as usual, though one of the laces is now undone. “She, well, she, uh, she liked you. For some unknown reason, she liked you very much.”

“Heaven forbid anyone could possibly enjoy my company.”

Cooper sighs. “My Auntie Bev is flying out to trek across Nepal tomorrow night. A soon as Mum told her how ‘nice’ you are, she insisted on meeting you before she goes…She’s very pushy—Mum’s a little terrified of her. We all are, frankly.”

My heart warms at hearing that Amy liked me very much. I liked her very much too. I liked how it felt when she patted the back of my head. I swallow, and a weird sensation tugs at my chest.

“Why the aquarium?”

“Bev loves all that touristy stuff,” he says vaguely. “And, you know. Tropical fish are cool.”

I nod. Tropical fish are cool. And seeing Amy again does sound nice. Really nice, in fact. But I can’t. I’m in a life-or-death scenario right now and luck does not appear to be on my side. I can’t waste time gawking at sea creatures. “I’m sorry,” I say with a small shrug. “I really can’t.”

Cooper nods quickly. “Of course. Yes, of course. Mum asked me to ask, so I, you know, asked. We’ll be meeting for coffee at Laurents café beforehand, if you change your mind.”

I nod. “You need to deal with that,” I say, pointing at his undone lace.

He speedily ties the lace, double knotting it and pulling so hard I wonder how on earth he’ll be able to undo it again.

“So,” I say once he’s standing back up, “all this time, I’ve been living above the best crime writer of our generation?”

“Oh, I was never that. I’m not a writer at all anymore.”

“Seems like a pretty cool job to dump in favour of becoming a computer programmer.”

Cooper gestures towards the door. “I should get going.”

On his way out he stops by the kitchen table, glancing down at my nude sketches. Shit.

“They’re private!” I say sharply, hurrying over.

“They’re beautiful,” he murmurs, bending his knees to get a closer look, tilting his head to the side.

I wave him away. “They’re not that good. I don’t really draw anymore. This was a one-off.”

Cooper stretches back up and looks right at me. “They’re beautiful, Delphie,” he repeats, his voice unnervingly gentle.

I swallow and look down at my feet. “Well, thanks,” I mumble, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.

“Right then,” Cooper says, voice back to normal plummy confidence. “Have a good evening.”

I watch him stride out of my flat, an odd prickle of disappointment in my stomach. I peer down at my sketches again, seeing them through Cooper’s eyes.

Maybe they are beautiful.

I take out my phone and snap some pictures to send to Mum.