My Clocking In System

The film went on doing whatever it was doing. Somebody’s phone lit up two rows down and got put away.

And Danny sat in the back row of a one-screen cinema in South London with his fingers going in slow circles on his girlfriend’s clit and her face pressed into his shoulder.

She did not make one sound above a breath.

It cost her everything she had.

"Danny."

"Yeah."

"I’m not going to be able to..." Her breath went. "I’m going to."

"Then don’t."

"What?"

He took his hand away.

Jodie sat up so fast the seat squeaked and the bloke on the aisle looked round.

"You absolute..." She had to stop, and press the back of her hand against her own mouth, and start again. "You bastard."

"You said you’d make a noise."

"I would have made a noise, that’s not the point..."

"Ssh."

"Don’t you ssh me."

She was laughing and furious at the same time and doing both of them silently, which he’d never seen anybody manage.

"You are in so much trouble."

"Am I."

"You have got no idea."

She took his hand, the same one, and held it in both of hers on top of her leg for the rest of the film.

Which was worse.

Her thumb went round and round on the back of it and did not stop once.

Somewhere in the middle of that he thought about a porter in St James’s saying forget something, Mr Flynn to a man who hadn’t said his name in that building all afternoon, and his back went cold in a warm room.

Then Jodie’s thumb moved and it was gone.

At the end she let go and said "Right," and stood up.

He didn’t.

"Are you coming?"

"Give us a minute."

"Ohh." She sat back down and put her chin on his shoulder for the credits, extremely happy about it. "Good."

They got as far as the pavement before she said, "Right, I need feeding. That was 2 hours and I’ve had Quavers."

Which is how a 15 minute walk took 25.

Because she kept stopping. And because outside the shut launderette with the machines’ little lights still going, she put both hands in his coat and backed him into the doorway and kissed him properly for a while with a bus going past behind her.

"You are still in trouble," she said into his mouth.

"I know."

"I want that understood."

"It’s understood."

"Good." She stayed there. "God, you’re cold."

"You’ve had my hands."

"I’ve had one of your hands, and then it left." She got her arm through his and started them walking. "Can I ask you something and you’re not allowed to be weird about it?"

"Go on."

"Sixth form."

"Go on."

"No, it’s daft."

"Jodie."

"Were you." She was watching the pavement. "You know."

"Yeah. From about 3 weeks in."

She stopped.

"You don’t know what I was going to ask."

"I know what you were going to ask," Danny said. "Three weeks into the first year. And I never told a living soul for 11 years."

"Three weeks in."

"About."

"So that’s October."

A bloke went past on a bike with no lights on it at all.

"Danny, I got Cheryl Boateng to find out if you were seeing anybody. That November." She had her hands in her pockets. "Asked her at a bus stop. She said she’d ask her brother because her brother was in your year."

"Right."

"And she come back about a week later and said nobody knew anything about you, you were dead quiet. So I decided that meant no."

He didn’t say anything.

"A month," she said. "A month. Cheryl Boateng."

"I’d have said no."

"What?"

"If you’d come up and asked me at 17 I’d have gone red and said no." He meant it. "And then thought about it every day for a year. I wasn’t any good at it. I’ve only been any good at it about 6 weeks."

She got hold of his arm with both hands and put her forehead against his shoulder for a second while they walked, which she’d never done before.

"Well," Jodie said. "We got there."

"We got there."

"Took us long enough." She lifted her head. "Is it the one with the steamed-up window?"

"That’s the one."

"Right. I’m having the potatoes. I’m telling you now so there’s no discussion."

The woman saw him through the glass and pointed at him with two fingers, once, like a copper.

"Quarter past 9."

"It’s about quarter past."

"It’s 18 minutes past." Already walking off. "Window one."

Cloth, paper over the top, a jar with 2 flowers in it. The glass beside them running so the road outside had gone to smears of orange.

A family had pushed two tables together in the middle, and there was a kid of about 4 underneath doing something to a table leg with a fork.

Football over the till with the sound off.

The man carving off the spit was shouting at the woman about the till roll in Portuguese and she was ignoring him with real commitment.

Jodie got her coat off and Danny watched her do it and she caught him.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You’re looking at my chest in a restaurant, Danny Flynn."

"I’m looking at both. Mostly the dress."

"Right." She sat down and shook the napkin out hard. "Good. It’s meant to."

Bread came warm enough that the crust cracked and steam came off the middle.

Butter too cold to spread, so you had to press bits of it on. Olives in a dish with a bowl for the stones. A jug of red that neither of them ordered.

She ate 4 olives in a row while reading the menu and put the stones in one at a time.

"Go on then," Danny said.

"What?"

"You said you’d say it at the table."

"Did I." She turned a page. "You’ll have to hang on. I’m looking at the potatoes."

He sat through the length of her looking at the potatoes, which was about 90 seconds.

Then she put the menu down and leaned in on her forearms and said it with her face doing absolutely nothing.

"It’s the pavement. Sunday morning’s obvious, anyone would. But you stood on my pavement not knowing what to say about a dress."

"Right."

"And then I got on the back of that thing and put my hands on you and you were already like that. And you didn’t even try and pretend." She had a drink. "So I sat behind you for 20 minutes in traffic knowing exactly why. I’d have gone in the alley."

"You’d not."

"Try me next time."

"You said that before we went in the pictures."

"And then you had your hand up my dress in Bernadette’s and stopped, so my position’s hardened." She put the glass down. "That’s still on the table, by the way. That has not been dealt with."

"Noted."

"Don’t."

He was laughing. She kicked him under the table and then left her foot there against his ankle.

The woman came and took the order without writing any of it down and went away again.

"That first Sunday," Danny said.

"Mm."

"You told me you were only that nice on the first morning."

"I lied." Not a beat missed. "Four mornings since. I’ve counted. Don’t get cocky."

"And then you sat up and told me you were keeping it."

She went pink and didn’t look away.

"I was very pleased with myself that morning."

"You’d earned it."

"I know." Another olive. "You know what I actually think about, though? Not that."

"Go on."

"The shower after. When the water went cold and you carried me out, and I said I’m not a girl who gets carried, and then I told you not to put me down." She shrugged. "Make of that what you like."

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