It won’t stop you doing my wash— laundry, although I’m not sure I want you handling my underwear.’ She was surprised that there was no washing machine in the apartment. She’d rinsed a few things through by hand.
‘I’m pretty good at handling underwear.’
‘Why doesn’t that surprise me? I’ll pass though.’
‘English, a tip. There’s a service laundromat on Hoyt Street. Five bucks for a load. Washed, dried and folded.’
‘That’s good to know. I’d never have thought of that.’ She sat up straighter, brightened at the prospect. ‘I am so going to do that this afternoon.’
‘Welcome to America.’
The laundromat smelled soft and clean, the soothing hum of tumble dryers cushioning the noise of the street outside. It was like fabric softener for the soul. Sophie handed over a large sack of washing and paid her five dollars.
‘When will it be ready?’ she asked.
‘Five cock. You come,’ said the ancient Vietnamese lady tapping her finger on the Formica counter top. ‘Five cock.’ Even though it was childish, Sophie bit back a snigger.
‘Today?’
The lady looked affronted. ‘Yes.’
‘Great. Thank you.’ That was good service. Thank goodness for Todd’s advice yesterday afternoon.
The woman had already stomped off like a bandy-legged Rumpelstiltskin to one of the dryers, where she started pulling out sheets bigger than she was.
‘Oh, I forgot to say. Todd sent me.’
The woman dropped the sheet. ‘Todd. He good boy.’ She beamed. Was there any female he wasn’t capable of charming?
Sophie left the shop with the promise of clean underwear later that afternoon, feeling she had achieved something. OK, so it was only washing, but it made her feel normal. As if she were starting to get back to normal. A big tick on her weekend list. Now all she had to do was fill the rest of today.
She could keep walking, except that Hoyt Street, or at least this part, seemed a lot less fancy than Smith Street a block away. There were a couple of grocery and deli shops, the windows plastered with flyers and adverts for cheap offers; corner shops with grimy windows and hand-written signs promising cola at fifty cents; a scruffy pharmacy, a chicken and pizza fast-food place and a bike shop. The metal grills and the basic shop fronts were a far cry from the smart wooden trim finishes and fancy sign-written shop names a street away.
Two teenagers in oversize hoodies and enormous trainers eyed her as they leaned on bikes against a lamp-post. Conscious of two pairs of eyes burning into her back and feeling slightly vulnerable, Sophie picked up her pace and scurried down the street towards home. All her good intentions to explore the area evaporated.
As she drew level with the bakery, she spotted Bella beckoning her enthusiastically through the window.
‘Hey Sophie! Good morning, come and meet the Eds.’ Bella bounded up to her and dragged her past the busy tables into the warm kitchen, filled with the slightly steamy air of hot ovens and freshly baked batches of cakes.
‘This is Edie and this is Ed. Guys, meet my new neighbour, Sophie. And I think you met Wes when you arrived.’ Wes, leaning against the dresser, nodded and gave her a wide smile and saluted her.
‘Hey Sophie,’ the two people sitting on the sofa chorused in perfect unison, both lifting their hands in identical economic waves, rather like a pair of spookily in-tandem twins, even down to their clothes’ similar muted shades of green and brown. Both were very thin, with sharp angular features and short cropped hair in an identical shade of mousey brown, although Ed had considerably more hair on his chin than on the top of his head. It was the sort of magnificent beard that you saw in adverts for trendy beer or featuring lumberjacks.
‘They make and supply all the bread for the bakery,’ explained Bella.
‘And the bagels,’ piped up the more feminine-looking one of the pair.
‘And the bread rolls,’ added the other.
‘Coffee?’ asked Bella. ‘Grab a seat. We were having a tasting. You can give me a second opinion.’ The coffee table had been cleared of its papers and in the centre was a large bread-board with several different loaves which had been sliced open.
‘That would be lovely, thanks.’ She sank into one of the armchairs.
‘Here.’ Ed immediately thrust a chunk of bread at her. ‘Try this. Honey and walnut.’
Edie huffed. ‘Not fair.’
‘She can try yours next,’ said Bella. ‘Honestly, they’re so competitive.’ She handed Sophie a rich, dark coffee.
Both Ed and Edie grinned. ‘But of course.’
‘By the way, Sophie is my new tenant upstairs. The one I was talking about. From London.’
‘Cool,’ said Ed, pointing his finger at the bread and urging Sophie to get a move on.
She took a bite of the still-warm bread. ‘Mmm, that is delicious.’
Ed gave his opposite number a smug nod. Sophie was still trying to work out the relationship between the pair when Edie leaned forward and kissed him on the nose. ‘She hasn’t tried mine yet, buster,’ she said as she cut a wedge from the nearest, very pale loaf. ‘Here, this one has a bit of subtlety about it.’ She shot Ed a superior look, tilting her nose in the air.
Sophie hurriedly bit into the crust, aware of the four pairs of eyes on her. This was clearly serious business.
‘Seeds,’ she looked at the bubbled, waxy interior of the bread, ‘chia seeds.’
Edie straightened and beamed. Sophie chewed, trying to get a handle on the familiar taste. ‘Yoghurt?’
‘I like her,’ said Edie to no one in particular. ‘It’s my cholesterol-busting bread. Chia seeds and yoghurt. See, these English people have got taste.’
‘They’re both lovely,’ said Sophie. The honey-and-walnut was much nicer but the shadowed, anxious looks from Bella and Wes suggested that the wrong words might start World War Three right there in the kitchen.
‘OK, sold,’ said Bella. ‘I’ll take a dozen of each next week.’
‘Great,’ said Edie, beaming. ‘Now break out the cupcakes, babe. I’m fed up with the healthy crap. Those chia seeds have played havoc with my system this week. And thanks for the vote, Sophie. So what brings you Stateside? Apart from proving that my bread tastes better.’
‘I told you, she’s hiding out after a bad break-up,’ announced Bella. ‘And she needs to get out more.’
Sophie
