An infernal ringing was slicing its way into my brain, wringing me out of my dreams. I fumbled blindly on the table after my phone, and brought it up to my ear.
"Mmm?" I mumbled, the gift of making sounds into words still beyond me.
"Hello, Emily? Its James."
"Huh, what?"
"James. You know, flappy hair, odd laugh, likes cars, built your furniture...?" My eyes sprang open and I nearly rolled out of the sofa.
"Yeah, yeah, I know now, sorry James, I was just sleeping and god where am I?" I rambled drowsily, trying to orientate myself.
"Probably in London somewhere. Sorry to wake you up, though."
"No, no, it's fine, " I said, sitting up and clearing my throat. "It was an unsanctioned nap anyway. I came home and was just watching some TV... Anyway, hi James! Sorry about that, I'm conscious now. How are you?"
"I'm good, thanks. Listen, do you have any plans later?"
"Um.. no, no plans. If you hadn't called I probably would've slept here until tomorrow."
"I'm sort of in your neighbourhood, I was wondering if you wanted to grab a few of those pints we talked about later? I realise you might not be up for it though, if you were zonked out on the sofa."
"Of course I'm up for it! I'm fine now, actually, I've been asleep for, Jesus, an hour," I said as I checked my wristwatch.
"Great! I should be done here soon, I could meet you in like.. an hour? Any suggestions where?"
"Mmm?" I mumbled, the gift of making sounds into words still beyond me.
"Hello, Emily? Its James."
"Huh, what?"
"James. You know, flappy hair, odd laugh, likes cars, built your furniture...?" My eyes sprang open and I nearly rolled out of the sofa.
"Yeah, yeah, I know now, sorry James, I was just sleeping and god where am I?" I rambled drowsily, trying to orientate myself.
"Probably in London somewhere. Sorry to wake you up, though."
"No, no, it's fine, " I said, sitting up and clearing my throat. "It was an unsanctioned nap anyway. I came home and was just watching some TV... Anyway, hi James! Sorry about that, I'm conscious now. How are you?"
"I'm good, thanks. Listen, do you have any plans later?"
"Um.. no, no plans. If you hadn't called I probably would've slept here until tomorrow."
"I'm sort of in your neighbourhood, I was wondering if you wanted to grab a few of those pints we talked about later? I realise you might not be up for it though, if you were zonked out on the sofa."
"Of course I'm up for it! I'm fine now, actually, I've been asleep for, Jesus, an hour," I said as I checked my wristwatch.
"Great! I should be done here soon, I could meet you in like.. an hour? Any suggestions where?"
"Sure, that sounds good. Um, I've heard the Marquis Cornwallis is supposed to be nice. Haven't been there myself, though."
"I know where that is. I'll meet you there in an hour then.""All right. See you later, " I said, and the line went silent. Seconds ticked by as I sat there, staring at my now darkened phone. It took me a while to get over the shock that he actually had called me, and even longer to realise that he'd asked me out for pints. Oh god, is this a date? No. Ridiculous idea. Mates go out for pints. I can deal with that, I can't deal with a date. I hadn't heard from James in the week that had passed since he'd been helping me building furniture, and I hadn't really expected to. Staring a new job and school in the same week had made me so stressed and tense I barely had the excess energy to think about it. But, being honest with myself, I had, and the thought of sending him a text had flitted through my consciousness a few times. He kept surprising me, by giving me his number, by helping me out, by wanting to do things with me. Anyone who wanted to spend time with me had always surprised me.
A glass filled with beer landed in front of my nose, tearing my attention away from my book. I looked up and James was looming over me, smiling, holding his own pint.
"Hey there!" I smiled and closed my book. James took off his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair before sitting down opposite me.
"What are you reading that is so incredibly gripping? Something for school?" He inquired, eyeing the book. Out of habit I had stuffed a book into my bag when setting off for the pub, and since I was early I had started reading in it and forgotten the world around me.
"No, it isn't for school. It's nonfiction though, it's by Jared Diamond. Guns, germs and steel." I offered up the book and he took it out of my hands, studying the cover. "It's basically the story of how we went from berry-eating half-apes to becoming farmers, industrialists, conquerors... You know, social evolution, history of civilization. It isn't as boring as it sounds."
"No no, this doesn't sound boring at all," James said, reading the blurb on the back.
"He has an amazing ability to make it fun and interesting. Before reading it I'd never given any thought to how the Eurasian civilizations were always the ones who survived and conquered everywhere else."
"So this is what girls in their late twenties reads in their spare time now? Wow, the world has actually gone forward."
"I hardly think I'm a good representative for all girls in their late twenties," I laughed. "I'm just an oddball. Plus, I read another one of his books a few years ago, it was called "Why is sex fun?" James nearly choked on his beer.
"Sounds.. interesting," he croaked, clearing his throat and smirked across the table.
"It was!" I laughed and raised my glass to him. "Thanks for the pint. I was supposed to get you beer, though."
"What the hell happened there?" He said, eyeing my severely swollen, black and blue left index finger.
"Oh, I... um, built that desk," I mumbled ashamedly, staring into my glass.
"Were you drunk when you did it?"
"No, I..." I squirmed in my seat, feeling the blush creeping up my neck. "I just... I was nailing the chipboard onto the back of the drawer section and I kinda... "
"... missed the nail and hit your hand?" James tried to hold back a gleeful smirk, but failed.
"A bit," I conceded with a shrug. "Your hammer and I are not friendly anymore."
"God, you didn't break it, did you?" Again he eyed my finger with a horrified expression. "That fingers looks awful, Emily."
"No, it isn't broken. I had it checked at work, fine. Well, not fine, just not.. broken... Hurts like fuck, though."
"I know, I hit my thumb with a really heavy mallet once. I apologize on behalf of my hammer."
"Next time I'm letting you build it," I muttered sadly.
"Deal. So, how has your first week been? As awful as you thought?" Something stirred in me as he said this, the question held a
genuine interest and thoughtfulness that touched me.
"It's been... intense. And exhausting. Lots of new co-workers to get to know, and new routines to learn. But the people seem really nice, and it doesn't feel so daunting anymore. It's strange how I always think I suddenly won't know anything when I start working in a new country. But nursing is nursing, I guess, no matter what country or language."
"See? I told you it would be fine. And what about school?"
"I don't know yet, hard to tell. We were mostly just given information that first day. But the literature we have to read seems interesting, which is a plus; lots of microbiology which is always interesting. I do love me some parasites."
"You are an oddball," James observed.
"Takes one to know one," I retorted and had some beer. "So, what brings you to my neighbourhood? Been at work?"
"Yeah, just been up at the BBC, doing voice-overs. You know, for the films we make, the reviews and challenges. We start filming in the studio down in Guildford in a few weeks."
"With audience and everything?"
"Yeah."
"Do you happen to know how long the waiting list for being in the audience has gotten now?"
"Dunno. Last I heard it was like nine years or something," he shrugged.
"Hmm..," I said thoughtfully. "Guess I have about four more years to wait, then."
"Wait, you've been on the list for tickets? Really?"
"I've been on it for a few, um... five years, yeah..." I admitted, regretting taking the conversation in this direction. I had never really
admitted to James how much I'd watched Top Gear before I met him, the subject just hadn't come up. And I wasn't so sure I wanted it to come up now.
"You know..." James said conspiratorially, leaning forward and raising an eyebrow. "I think I might be able to get you in."
"Oh yeah...?" I leaned in as well, looking shifty.
"Well.. I kind of know one of the presenters."
"No way! How?" I gasped in disbelief.
"Well, only distantly, really. He's a bit of an oddball. I'm sure I could fix something, though." he said, still looking dead serious. For a moment we just looked at each other, both obviously struggling to keep a straight face. James cracked first, his eyes crinkling when he laughed loudly. As soon as he cracked I couldn't hold back either, and we shared a laughing fit. "No, really though, "James said as the laughter had died down. "Of course you're coming to the studio some day, if you want to. It'd be fun."
"Naturally I'd want to!" I couldn't hold back an excited smile. When I thought about it, being called up by James May and asked out for a pint was surreal enough. Going to Guildford and down to the studio and the track would be completely absurd. Oooh, my brother will die of jealousy! As much as I could admit being in a surreal situation, looking at it from the outside, hanging out with James never felt that way. It was just pleasant and relaxing and fun, and oddly familiar.
"Check if you're working Wednesday two weeks from now, then."
"Sure," I nodded into my pint.
"Strangely we haven't talked much about cars," James pointed out. This was the question I'd been dreading. How the hell do you talk about cars with a bloke with an autistic knowledge of cars, a bloke who has driven just about anything with an engine? He didn't elaborate on his question, he just looked at me, leaving the subject open.
"Oh god, I don't know much about them, really. I grew up in a family of car mechanics, but both my dad and brother refused to teach me how to change the oil or the air filter on my car. I was barely allowed to change my own tyres. I guess I know more about cars than the average female, being somewhat interested in them..."
"Why wouldn't they teach you?"
"I don't know. Quicker to just do it themselves, probably. And they're both insufferable pedantic perfectionists, they would never trust me to do it right."
"Balls to that. You'd be perfectly capable of changing an air filter. You're a nurse, you're responsible for peoples' lives. If they mess up, they car just won't work. If you mess up, people die."
"Gee, thanks for reminding me." I rolled my eyes at him. "Anyway.. Please don't hate me for this but I did help my brother restoring my granddad's old Beetle. Just little things, putting the windows back in, doing the interior, stuff like that."
"I'll let you off for that one, seeing as it wasn't your daft idea to restore it, but your brothers'."
"I suspect he might be a secret anglophile though, his other two veterans are an old MGB and an old series 2 Jag XJ6."
"What cars do you like, then?"
"The sad thing is that I can't give an educated answer to that, because I haven't driven any exciting cars in my life. The car I've driven with the most horsepower was probably that old XJ6."
"Aw, that IS sad!"
"I know... The only thing I can say something about is which cars I think are gorgeous, or cool."
"Okay, do that then."
"Okay. Hmm..." I pondered a bit, sipping on my pint. "When I was younger I was kinda into american cars. Chevy's, Lincolns, Mustangs, Cadillacs... I grew out of that."
"Good."
"I still have a huge soft spot for the Shelby GT500, though. Other than that.. I don't know, I've never been too much into Mercs, they're just for tosspots." James laughed, but waited silently for me to continue. "I was really into WRC racing for a long time, especially when Solberg did well. When one of the events was held in Norway it was literally in my back yard, so I volunteered as a marshal and spent days in the snow, freezing my arse off in -18C. Just to be able to watch cars go by really, really quickly. And it was totally worth it. One of the junior drivers actually parked their Subaru Impreza in my dads' garage that weekend. And I got to be a passenger in it. Briefly, on forest roads, on snow. I think I left some vital organs behind in that car... Definitely the lairiest car ride I've ever had. By light years. But so fucking fun."
"Fun? You are clinically insane. Balls of steel, but insane. I've never been the same since I hitched a ride with Solberg down that hillside in Lillehammer..." James shuddered.
"I saw that episode," I laughed. "But yeah, WRC is fun. And I can do a Scandinavian flick, I had a rear-wheel driven BMW for 10 years. Personally, I wouldn't mind having a Porsche... And Alfas are always pretty, Jesus, the 8C looks like a supermodel in a tight red dress. And Jaguars, like the XK... Oh, and the old E-type! Sexy thing. I've never been much into supercars, I haven't drooled over every Ferrari and Lambo out there..."
"Ultimate dream car, then?"
"Anything Aston Martin," I replied instantly. "I don't care which one. DB7, DB9, Vanquish, One-77... Doesn't matter. I'd even settle for an old 60's DB4 if it was in good nick. They must be the sexiest things ever made, the Astons'. I think my ultimate wet dream would be to just drive an Aston Martin. Just once, to feel what it was like." For a moment I gazed dreamily into the distance, leaning my head on my hand. Feeling James' gaze on me I tore myself out of my reverie. "Right, sorry, I'm back now. Another pint?" James also seemed to have been lost in thought for a moment.
"Um, yeah, sure." I scrambled out of the pub sofa and got us another round of pints. We spent the rest of the night talking, conversation flowing as easily as it always seemed to do. After our third pint we decided to call it a night, I could tell James was getting as tired as me. Before saying goodnight we agreed that, provided I had the day off, I would come with James down to Guildford two weeks later to the studio. James got into a cab and I walked home, feeling far too drunk for someone who just had three pints.
"Hey there!" I smiled and closed my book. James took off his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair before sitting down opposite me.
"What are you reading that is so incredibly gripping? Something for school?" He inquired, eyeing the book. Out of habit I had stuffed a book into my bag when setting off for the pub, and since I was early I had started reading in it and forgotten the world around me.
"No, it isn't for school. It's nonfiction though, it's by Jared Diamond. Guns, germs and steel." I offered up the book and he took it out of my hands, studying the cover. "It's basically the story of how we went from berry-eating half-apes to becoming farmers, industrialists, conquerors... You know, social evolution, history of civilization. It isn't as boring as it sounds."
"No no, this doesn't sound boring at all," James said, reading the blurb on the back.
"He has an amazing ability to make it fun and interesting. Before reading it I'd never given any thought to how the Eurasian civilizations were always the ones who survived and conquered everywhere else."
"So this is what girls in their late twenties reads in their spare time now? Wow, the world has actually gone forward."
"I hardly think I'm a good representative for all girls in their late twenties," I laughed. "I'm just an oddball. Plus, I read another one of his books a few years ago, it was called "Why is sex fun?" James nearly choked on his beer.
"Sounds.. interesting," he croaked, clearing his throat and smirked across the table.
"It was!" I laughed and raised my glass to him. "Thanks for the pint. I was supposed to get you beer, though."
"What the hell happened there?" He said, eyeing my severely swollen, black and blue left index finger.
"Oh, I... um, built that desk," I mumbled ashamedly, staring into my glass.
"Were you drunk when you did it?"
"No, I..." I squirmed in my seat, feeling the blush creeping up my neck. "I just... I was nailing the chipboard onto the back of the drawer section and I kinda... "
"... missed the nail and hit your hand?" James tried to hold back a gleeful smirk, but failed.
"A bit," I conceded with a shrug. "Your hammer and I are not friendly anymore."
"God, you didn't break it, did you?" Again he eyed my finger with a horrified expression. "That fingers looks awful, Emily."
"No, it isn't broken. I had it checked at work, fine. Well, not fine, just not.. broken... Hurts like fuck, though."
"I know, I hit my thumb with a really heavy mallet once. I apologize on behalf of my hammer."
"Next time I'm letting you build it," I muttered sadly.
"Deal. So, how has your first week been? As awful as you thought?" Something stirred in me as he said this, the question held a
genuine interest and thoughtfulness that touched me.
"It's been... intense. And exhausting. Lots of new co-workers to get to know, and new routines to learn. But the people seem really nice, and it doesn't feel so daunting anymore. It's strange how I always think I suddenly won't know anything when I start working in a new country. But nursing is nursing, I guess, no matter what country or language."
"See? I told you it would be fine. And what about school?"
"I don't know yet, hard to tell. We were mostly just given information that first day. But the literature we have to read seems interesting, which is a plus; lots of microbiology which is always interesting. I do love me some parasites."
"You are an oddball," James observed.
"Takes one to know one," I retorted and had some beer. "So, what brings you to my neighbourhood? Been at work?"
"Yeah, just been up at the BBC, doing voice-overs. You know, for the films we make, the reviews and challenges. We start filming in the studio down in Guildford in a few weeks."
"With audience and everything?"
"Yeah."
"Do you happen to know how long the waiting list for being in the audience has gotten now?"
"Dunno. Last I heard it was like nine years or something," he shrugged.
"Hmm..," I said thoughtfully. "Guess I have about four more years to wait, then."
"Wait, you've been on the list for tickets? Really?"
"I've been on it for a few, um... five years, yeah..." I admitted, regretting taking the conversation in this direction. I had never really
admitted to James how much I'd watched Top Gear before I met him, the subject just hadn't come up. And I wasn't so sure I wanted it to come up now.
"You know..." James said conspiratorially, leaning forward and raising an eyebrow. "I think I might be able to get you in."
"Oh yeah...?" I leaned in as well, looking shifty.
"Well.. I kind of know one of the presenters."
"No way! How?" I gasped in disbelief.
"Well, only distantly, really. He's a bit of an oddball. I'm sure I could fix something, though." he said, still looking dead serious. For a moment we just looked at each other, both obviously struggling to keep a straight face. James cracked first, his eyes crinkling when he laughed loudly. As soon as he cracked I couldn't hold back either, and we shared a laughing fit. "No, really though, "James said as the laughter had died down. "Of course you're coming to the studio some day, if you want to. It'd be fun."
"Naturally I'd want to!" I couldn't hold back an excited smile. When I thought about it, being called up by James May and asked out for a pint was surreal enough. Going to Guildford and down to the studio and the track would be completely absurd. Oooh, my brother will die of jealousy! As much as I could admit being in a surreal situation, looking at it from the outside, hanging out with James never felt that way. It was just pleasant and relaxing and fun, and oddly familiar.
"Check if you're working Wednesday two weeks from now, then."
"Sure," I nodded into my pint.
"Strangely we haven't talked much about cars," James pointed out. This was the question I'd been dreading. How the hell do you talk about cars with a bloke with an autistic knowledge of cars, a bloke who has driven just about anything with an engine? He didn't elaborate on his question, he just looked at me, leaving the subject open.
"Oh god, I don't know much about them, really. I grew up in a family of car mechanics, but both my dad and brother refused to teach me how to change the oil or the air filter on my car. I was barely allowed to change my own tyres. I guess I know more about cars than the average female, being somewhat interested in them..."
"Why wouldn't they teach you?"
"I don't know. Quicker to just do it themselves, probably. And they're both insufferable pedantic perfectionists, they would never trust me to do it right."
"Balls to that. You'd be perfectly capable of changing an air filter. You're a nurse, you're responsible for peoples' lives. If they mess up, they car just won't work. If you mess up, people die."
"Gee, thanks for reminding me." I rolled my eyes at him. "Anyway.. Please don't hate me for this but I did help my brother restoring my granddad's old Beetle. Just little things, putting the windows back in, doing the interior, stuff like that."
"I'll let you off for that one, seeing as it wasn't your daft idea to restore it, but your brothers'."
"I suspect he might be a secret anglophile though, his other two veterans are an old MGB and an old series 2 Jag XJ6."
"What cars do you like, then?"
"The sad thing is that I can't give an educated answer to that, because I haven't driven any exciting cars in my life. The car I've driven with the most horsepower was probably that old XJ6."
"Aw, that IS sad!"
"I know... The only thing I can say something about is which cars I think are gorgeous, or cool."
"Okay, do that then."
"Okay. Hmm..." I pondered a bit, sipping on my pint. "When I was younger I was kinda into american cars. Chevy's, Lincolns, Mustangs, Cadillacs... I grew out of that."
"Good."
"I still have a huge soft spot for the Shelby GT500, though. Other than that.. I don't know, I've never been too much into Mercs, they're just for tosspots." James laughed, but waited silently for me to continue. "I was really into WRC racing for a long time, especially when Solberg did well. When one of the events was held in Norway it was literally in my back yard, so I volunteered as a marshal and spent days in the snow, freezing my arse off in -18C. Just to be able to watch cars go by really, really quickly. And it was totally worth it. One of the junior drivers actually parked their Subaru Impreza in my dads' garage that weekend. And I got to be a passenger in it. Briefly, on forest roads, on snow. I think I left some vital organs behind in that car... Definitely the lairiest car ride I've ever had. By light years. But so fucking fun."
"Fun? You are clinically insane. Balls of steel, but insane. I've never been the same since I hitched a ride with Solberg down that hillside in Lillehammer..." James shuddered.
"I saw that episode," I laughed. "But yeah, WRC is fun. And I can do a Scandinavian flick, I had a rear-wheel driven BMW for 10 years. Personally, I wouldn't mind having a Porsche... And Alfas are always pretty, Jesus, the 8C looks like a supermodel in a tight red dress. And Jaguars, like the XK... Oh, and the old E-type! Sexy thing. I've never been much into supercars, I haven't drooled over every Ferrari and Lambo out there..."
"Ultimate dream car, then?"
"Anything Aston Martin," I replied instantly. "I don't care which one. DB7, DB9, Vanquish, One-77... Doesn't matter. I'd even settle for an old 60's DB4 if it was in good nick. They must be the sexiest things ever made, the Astons'. I think my ultimate wet dream would be to just drive an Aston Martin. Just once, to feel what it was like." For a moment I gazed dreamily into the distance, leaning my head on my hand. Feeling James' gaze on me I tore myself out of my reverie. "Right, sorry, I'm back now. Another pint?" James also seemed to have been lost in thought for a moment.
"Um, yeah, sure." I scrambled out of the pub sofa and got us another round of pints. We spent the rest of the night talking, conversation flowing as easily as it always seemed to do. After our third pint we decided to call it a night, I could tell James was getting as tired as me. Before saying goodnight we agreed that, provided I had the day off, I would come with James down to Guildford two weeks later to the studio. James got into a cab and I walked home, feeling far too drunk for someone who just had three pints.
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