London, Last Night

Suzy knew she should wake him. That was the right thing to do. Give him a gentle tap on the shoulder and say, ‘Excuse me sir, it’s time to go.’ But she was transfixed by him. Lying there, so peacefully, as if this was the first moment of quiet he'd had in weeks. 

Immediately, she decided he was a nice guy. He wore a navy wool duffle coat with a green sweater underneath, and a scarf the colour of caramel which hung by his side. She looked down his body. Blue Levis, leather belt, the outline of a mobile phone in his front pocket, and brown leather boots in a second position ballet pose at the end of the mattress.

She looked around the shop, empty at closing time. Could she keep him a little longer? He felt like something lovely and unexpected in her possession.

His head was faced straight up as if he was a cadaver on a slab, like in the crime shows she devoured at night. He wasn’t dead of course. She could see his chest rising and falling and he was making a soft and rhythmic sound with his snores.

Suddenly there was the sound of Glenn hauling a plastic-covered bed base across the concrete floor of the loading bay. 

‘Are you OK to lock up Suzy?', he called. 'This delivery could take a while. It's bucketing down.'

‘Absolutely boss’, she said in a loud whisper, not taking her eyes off the body.

Suzy waited until she heard the van reverse and the roller door close. 

'I'll be back in a minute,' she said to the sleeping man and headed to the front door of the shop to bolt it shut.

Next she went to the till and began the job of balancing the takings which Glenn had taught her how to do. A quick learner he'd called her, and unlike the other employees, she was fine to stay late and lock up. For her it was less time in the flat. Less time alone.

Next Suzy turned off the heating and the main lights, just leaving the window display spotlights. Her heart thumped with anticipation as she walked back through the dark and silent store. She felt like a dog returning to check on a buried bone. 

He’d moved. Not much, but he was now rolled over onto his side and his boots were on the strip of plastic covering the mattress, for exactly this reason. His jeans had slid up at the ankle and she saw the top of a pink sock and half an inch of leg hair.

She folded her arms across her chest like detectives do, and in a soft, serious voice said, ‘Caucasian male, early-20s, well-dressed, 6ft ish tall, 85kgs.'

Walking around the bed she added, 'No wedding ring, no watch, clean nails. Australian-made boots so perhaps an ex-pat.'

She smiled as she said, 'Full lips, perfect nose.' 

Noticing a small scar under his eyebrow, she added, ‘Possible older brother. Eye colour to be determined, but my prediction on complexion and,’ she thought for a second, ‘vibe, is green.’

She leaned even closer. 'Expensive cologne, but masking a different smell, possibly beer. Stubble and exhaustion may suggest a late night out.’ 

This happens more than you’d think. A customer lies down to check the feel of a mattress and boom they’re asleep with their mouths open for everyone to see. Mosts customers arrive in pairs Suzy noticed, so it's the wife or girlfriend (it’s nearly always a guy who collapses) who comes to find them passed out and shoves them awake. Clearly this man was shopping alone.

She’d become an expert and picking the newly-weds, the blended families, the bachelors and the uni students. The glimpse into peoples lives was the best part of the job. That morning she'd sold a mattress to a couple who were about to move in with each other. Suzy had watched them glide around the shop, playfully bouncing on mattresses, and whispering to each other. She had imagined them after they' left, heading to a nearby pub. They would push their way through the heavy door, he'd take her coat and she'd make her way to a small table by the fire. They'd kissed over pints of cider and packets of crisps.

Suzy now sat on the edge of the bed and wondered about this man shopping alone on a rainy Sunday afternoon. Was he moving into a new house this week? Had he just arrived in London, or been here for years? Maybe he's one of those private schooled Aussies she'd seen in Shepherd Bush and Chelsea, who hang out in packs and talk loudly at each other about the footy over pints of Stella. Yes, probably. And perhaps his parents are on their way from their house on Sydney Harbour to visit him and are going to take him to high tea at the Ritz and tell him how proud they are of him. She smiled before thinking how different her own expat story was. 

The man took a deep breath and then a long, slow exhale. OK, she had to wake up. It was wrong to leave him sleeping like this. The streetlights were on and the shop was beginning to lose its heat. 

But she knew why she wouldn't. This attractive man in beautiful clothes was someone she would never meet in real life. 

She, from a dusty nothing town in Western Australia, and living in a bedsit in Kentish Town with sketchy heating, an overactive imagination and deep loneliness. Their paths would never cross. And if they did, would he find anything interesting enough to pause his full life for?

Suzy slipped off her shoes. He probably had a girlfriend. An English rose who he met at a fancy bar where they serve cocktails in a heavy tumblers with ice blocks like giant see through dice. The girl would have fallen for his easy-going nature and Hemsworth accent. 

She carefully put her hands onto the mattress. One knee, and then the other. She slowly lifted herself up onto all fours, then lowered herself down beside him. She was facing him now, and even though his eyes were closed, she felt their silent conversation. 

‘Do you believe this rain?’ .... 'Bloody London! Why do we do it to ourselves Suzy?.... ‘Oh, it’s the dark that gets me.’ ... 'January is the hardest don't you think? We should be on the beach.'

Suzy moved a little closer, close enough to feel his breath on her lips. She closed her eyes, and within seconds, was asleep.

A minute passed or perhaps ten, when suddenly the air was filled with a loud mobile phone ring. The phone in his pocket had come to life and was blaring.

Suzy sat bolt upright and looked over at the man, who had rolled away from her and fallen off the mattress, in one thudding move.  

“What the fuck!’ He got up quickly straightened his coat.

Suzy gasped and leapt off the bed. ‘Oh my god! I was, I was just locking up the shop and then I saw you and well I was just leaning over you to check you were alive.’ 

The man was still disorientated. He pulled the still ringing phone out of his pocket, and as he answered it, he read Suzy’s ‘Bed Warehouse’ t-shirt and name tag.

‘Hi. Can I call you straight back?', he said, not taking his eyes off Suzy. 'Yes I’m fine. I’ll explain when I see you. Bye.'

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and touched his hair self consciously. 

'I must've fallen asleep,’ he said, looking around the dark showroom.

Suzy was right. He was Australian. She was wrong with the height (not 6ft more like 5’9), and his eyes were not green, but the most dazzling blue she’d ever seen. 

'I'll go. Goodbye. I’m sorry. I don't know what happened', he said and walked off in the wrong direction. Suzy quickly put her shoes back on and called to him as he circled the bunk beds. ‘The door’s this way! I’ll have to let you out.’

She walked swiftly to the entrance of the shop and heard him behind her. As she unbolted the door she could smell his cologne and wished she had a reason to stop him leaving.

‘Thank you,’ he said, as she opened the door.

'My pleasure.'

He walked down the steps, slippery with rain and suddenly turned around.

'I'm sorry .. is it Suzy? Did I actually buy a mattress?'

'No.'

'Oh.'

'We open at 10am if you want to try again. I could make the shop really cold and bright, and maybe turn up the music?'  

He laughed. 'Man, I'm sorry.'

'Don't be. It happens all the time,' she said. 

'Are you Australian?' 

'Yes.'

'I won't ask you what school you went to.'

'Please don't', she smiled, thinking 'No, seriously please don't.'

'Well, thanks again.' He waved, and as he turned to go stepped into a deep puddle. 'Fuck London', he said. Then looking back at her with a smile, 'Why do we do it to ourselves, Suzy?' 

Her stomach filled with butterflies but she remained composed and shrugged her shoulders. He waved again and she watched him disappear into the wet night. 

Suzy locked the door and headed to the back of the shop. She slipped her shoes off, picked up his scarf from where it had fallen on the ground and balled it up like a pillow and went back to sleep.