“Oh, whos this?” gasped Lucy as she stepped into her friends kitchen.
There, under the warm glow of the overhead light, tucked into the corner by the smallest cupboard, sat a slightly balding bloke who looked about forty. And there he was, modestly but quite deftly chopping parsley with Ellies wide kitchen knife.
“Lucy, this is Tom. Tom, this is Lucy,” Ellie mumbled, blushing furiously. “Heres your sugar, come on.” She shoved a tin marked with sugar crystals into Lucys hands and hurriedly steered her into the hallway.
“Pleasure to meet you!” Lucy bellowed over her shoulder, trying to get a proper look at Ellies “new acquisition.”
But even on closer inspection, he didnt impress. There were no detailsno redeeming featuresthat could justify his sudden appearance in Ellies apron, the one with the colourful doughnuts.
“Tom, Ill be right back!” Ellie called into the kitchen and shut the door.
Thenright there in the hallwayLucy grabbed her with a vice-like grip.
“Spill!”
“Whats there to spill?” Ellie tried to dodge. “Oh, fine, come on.”
The two friends left the flat, crossed the cramped landing, and slipped into Lucys two-bed maisonette.
Lucys place smelled of cinnamon and Chanel No. 5. Everything, from the pristine white pouffe by the door, announced to guests that the owner had a deep reverence for her home.
“Not like mine,” Ellie always thought sadly whenever she visited, remembering her half-peeled hallway wallpaper.
“Spill!” Lucy demanded again. She dumped sugar into a bowl of cream, grabbed a whisk, and fixed Ellie with a look.
“What about your Brian?” Ellie tried to deflect.
“At a meeting. Wont be back for ages. Nowgo on!”
“What? I just saw him at the market. And sort of picked him up?”
“How dyou mean?” Lucy frowned.
“Well, I saw this bloke standing by the herbs. Decent-looking coat, but a bit rough around the edges. I went over. How much for the parsley? I asked. And he goes, How about I just give it to you? I said, Whats the catch? And he said, I made myself a ruleif a woman with sad eyes comes up to me, Ill give her whatever she wants. Take it, he says. Grew it myself.”
“And then you?”
“Well, I took it. Turned to leave, and then I said, Who said my eyes were sad? Theyre not sad at all. And he just looked at me, quiet-like Then he grabbed my shopping bags and walked with me.”
“And you?” Lucy, forgetting she was holding a whisk, absently scratched her teased fringe with it.
“And I walked, thinking, What on earth do I do with this man? Then I thought, well, hes clearly a lost soul. Might as well keep him. Met him on the way home.”
“Blimey! You just brought some random man into your house? Did you at least hide the valuables?”
“Lucy!” Ellie huffed. “Hes a doctor, for heavens sake. A radiologist.”
“Oh yeah? Seen his credentials, have you?”
“Listen, youre the one who told me” Ellies face fell. “About the avocado.”
“What avocado?” Lucy was utterly lost.
And Ellie was back in that memory, right there in Lucys kitchen
The avocado fanned out in delicate green gradients. The slices were deep emerald near the skin, fading to a milky olive near the pit.
Ellie had never been any good at picking avocados. Lingering by the supermarket displays, shed fumble over the glossy, pebbly skins, pressing gently, trying to divine the flesh beneath. Shed pick one up, put it back, lose minutes to eternity, all in pursuit of the perfect avocado.
Sometimes she thought shed cracked it. Shed rush home with her prize (once learning, to her shock, it was a berry, not a fruit or veg). On the counter, shed plunge in a knifeonly to meet the resistance of an unripe lump. Those went on the windowsill to “ripen” into something merely edible.
But that night, Lucy had bought the perfect one. Ellie speared a slice with her fork, letting the creamy flesh melt on her tongue. No chewing neededjust a burst of fresh, nutty bliss.
“You said you cant judge an avocado by its cover,” Ellie explained, snapping back to the present. “Or by feel. A good one just clicks.”
“And whats that got to do with men?”
“Well, youve always had the knack. With avocados and with blokes. Not like me,” Ellie sighed.
“So you just *felt* something with this Tom?” Lucy struggled to recall his name and marvelled again at his complete lack of charm.
“It went quiet when he was near. Even in the market chaos. And I thought, maybe its alright that hes just ordinary?”
“Right. Well, off you pop. Dont leave him waiting.”
Lucy shooed Ellie out with the sugar tin and pressed her ear to the door. A click from next door. Silence.
“Well, then. Suppose theres a first time for everything” She returned to her cream, whisking with renewed vigour.
Meanwhile, Ellie stepped into her hallwayand found Tom there. Still in her doughnut apron, now perched on a wobbly stool, pressing a strip of wallpaper to the wall.
“Sorry, I found this in the cupboard when I was looking for a jar for the parsley. And the glue was there too. Thought Id help?” He wavered on the stool, suddenly nervous.
Ellie sprang forward like a cat, grabbing his unfamiliar legs. Under the dark jeans, she felt his kneestesting them like an avocado, pressing lightly. And to her surprise, the thought came: *mine.*
Tom stayed perfectly stillmaybe afraid to let go of the wallpaper, maybe not wanting to scare off something fragile but precious.
Finally, he lifted his hands from the wall and gently stroked Ellies fine hair.
“Do you like avocados?” she asked suddenly, squeezing her eyes shut.
“Love them!” Tom lied earnestly, having never tried one.
And just then, they both felt itthe soft, sticky drape of fresh wallpaper sliding over them.
Or maybe it was happiness.
