They sat in the back living room and she poured them a couple of cold lagers.
As she set the glass down on the coffee table beside him, he pulled her to him.
‘I’m sorry, Loz. Will you have me back? I was wrong to go.’
She pulled away and sat down in the chair opposite him.
‘You go away without a word. Don’t even bother to get in touch for days, then come back and expect everything to be normal?’
He smiled. ‘I’m not a normal guy, Loz. That’s why you like me.’
It was true. She thought back to the time her friend Izzy from law school had introduced them in 1984. Luke had been with a couple of other activists in the King’s Head in Islington. It was during the miners’ strike, and they were collecting for the miners’ families, shaking plastic buckets painted with the slogan ‘Dig deep for the Miners’. On the table where they sat for a pint, they had placed miners’ helmets.
Izzy, a punk with left-wing ideals whose only interest in being at law school was to be able to represent worthy causes eventually, had introduced Laura.
‘This is Luke. We were at university together in Brighton.’
Laura remembered how he’d stared at her, and how she’d felt self-conscious and inadequate, as if she’d hardly lived, and that the life she had lived so far had been selfish and pampered. Here was someone who’d rejected the safe options in life for a risky, impoverished existence because he believed in what he was doing.
After that first meeting, she’d often thought about him, about his striking good looks, the intense scrutiny he’d given her when Izzy introduced them, his brave and unconventional life. He’d been a stark contrast to all the other men she had known. Safe, dependable men like Matthew, who followed their pre-destined path with assurance and confidence, without looking outside the privileged existence the quirk of birth and education had handed to them.
She hadn’t imagined for a moment that he might be interested in her until several months later. They’d bumped into each other again at one of Izzy’s parties in her flat in Clapton. Matt had been away on business, so she went alone. Luke had approached her and with that intense look that seemed to shut out everything else around him had said, ‘You’re Izzy’s token capitalist friend, aren’t you? I remember you from the King’s Head.’
‘Yes, I remember you too. I’m surprised you can find it in you to even speak to me, if that’s what you think.’
They had sparred like that all evening, and at the end she had offered to drop him off at his squat in her taxi. As he got out he had kissed her, full on the lips. She had felt a thrill of shock, and the memory of the kiss stayed with her for weeks afterwards. When Matt returned from Geneva, although she tried, she could never again feel the same about the way he kissed her.
She looked at Luke now, at his dark hair framing his face, at the stubble on his chin, at his deep brown eyes focused on her, at his slim creative hands. She couldn’t fight her attraction to him. She was drawn to him like a moth to a bright light. She looked away.
‘I’m going away for a few weeks. Let’s see how we feel when I come back,’ she said.
‘Where are you going? Perhaps I could come along?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. I’m going to Thailand. Malaysia maybe. I want to go to the bridge on the River Kwai, to the railway where Dad was a prisoner. And I want to go to Penang. You know, where he worked before the war. It will be a sort of pilgrimage for me. You’d probably find it boring.’
‘Don’t you want some company? You might be lonely. I haven’t got anything to do here at the moment.’
‘I’ve only just started to think about it. And anyway, you don’t have any money, Luke.’
Watching his face, she thought she saw a flash of irritation. He got up to go.
‘I’ll be getting back to the squat then.’
She stood up and walked with him to the front door. He turned the handle, but then turned around and put his arms around her, kissed her hard, pushing her up against the wall. She returned the kiss reluctantly at first and then found she couldn’t stop kissing him back. His hands were inside her shirt.
‘Stop,’ she said. ‘Ken might come downstairs.’
‘Shall we go up to your room?’
They hurried upstairs and fell on the bed kissing, their hands all over each other, undoing clothes, throwing them aside.
When Laura awoke the next morning, her first thought was the memory of the night before. She turned and saw that he was still there. She felt shame creeping through her. What had happened to her resolve to forget him and make plans of her own?
She crept out of bed and went downstairs to make tea. When she came back, Luke was awake.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ he said. ‘I could get the airfare. One of the guys in the squat owes me a hundred quid, and I’ll get my dole this week.’
She laughed. ‘The fares will be quite expensive.’ Looking at him now, her resolve was beginning to weaken further. ‘I suppose I could lend you the money if you really want to come.’
‘Hey, that’s generous of you. I’d pay you back. You know that.’
He propped the pillow behind his head, and his face relaxed into a smile. Did she really know that? Had he ever paid her a penny for the bills he’d run up at her flat, or for all the meals they had shared? Not that she begrudged paying. She was earning money, and he wasn’t.
She slid into bed beside him, and he put his arms around her and kissed her hair. So it was settled. He would come with her
