The Ice Cream Girls by Dorothy Koomson

and floaty when made into a chiffon dress, was heavy, bulky and unwieldy in my arms in the quantities she’d bought it. The seller who had put the small ad in the paper was obviously feeling aggrieved with the hard bargain she had driven on the phone because he hadn’t offered to carry it to my car for me – he hadn’t even offered me a black binbag. It didn’t surprise me – Medina rarely paid full price for anything. I’d seen her try to haggle in supermarkets! According to her, the price on the ticket was just a starting point. She had a way, too, of making the person feel as if they were in the wrong for wanting the price they asked for.
    I struggled on down the backstreets of Kensington. In this fading light, they all looked the same to me – big imposing houses and blocks of flats, narrow windy roads.
    A tall man came striding towards me and, as always when I was alone in a street with a man, my heart did a frightened little jump. It was momentary and reflexive, I’d had that for years. I should probably ask him for directions, but he seemed to be in a hurry, his long legs striding out, and I didn’t want to get in his way. He gave me a brief nod, and smile; the dark acknowledgement, Faye, Medina’s twin, calls it – the way black people acknowledge each other when they’re in a predominately white area. I gave him a brief smile and nod back, and he strode on. After a second, I stopped, turned back to look at him. He had stopped too.
    It was, it was him.
    ‘It is, it’s you,’ he said.
    ‘It is, it’s me,’ I replied.
    He came back the few steps to me, and without even asking, he took the bundle of material out of my hands.
    ‘Thanks,’ I said.
    ‘Thanks?’ he asked, confused.
    I pointed to the material that now filled his arms. ‘For lightening my load.’
    ‘Oh, don’t mention it,’ he said. ‘You look exactly the same.’
    ‘Wow, that didn’t take you long, did it? Less than three minutes to start the insults.’
    ‘What insults?’
    ‘You said I look exactly the same.’
    ‘You do.’
    ‘And, the last time we met, you said you didn’t fancy me. I assumed it was because you didn’t find the way I look particularly attractive. So if I look exactly the same, that means I’m still unattractive to you.’
    ‘You deduce far too much from far too little,’ he said. ‘And talk a lot.’
    ‘Only around you, actually. Most of the time, I’m pretty quiet.’
    ‘I don’t believe you.’
    ‘OK, I suppose that is your right.’
    ‘And you’re wrong, anyway. I do find you attractive.’
    ‘ Now you might do, but then you didn’t.’
    ‘Would you rather I found you attractive in the past and not now? Especially since back then I seem to remember you had sworn off relationships.’
    ‘Well—’
    ‘Answer carefully, little one, for the wrong answer could bring all this rather fine flirting to a screeching halt. And wreck any chance we may have of getting together.’
    ‘No pressure then.’
    ‘There is a vast amount of pressure, didn’t you understand that from what I just said?’
    ‘I was being sarcastic.’
    ‘Nah, I don’t think you were.’
    ‘You’re incorrigible,’ I said.
    ‘I’ve always wanted to be incorrigible. Are you going to come for a drink with me then? Or are you still off all men, for ever and ever amen?’
    ‘I am. But I might make an exception for you, seeing as you’re so incorrigible and so pleased to be incorrigible. When were you thinking?’
    ‘No time like the present.’
    ‘Ah, can’t, I have to get this material to my sister.’
    ‘Where does she live? Maybe we can drop it off then go for a drink. It’ll be nice to meet the future family.’
    ‘Don’t be starting all that “my parents would love you” stuff again. Actually, my sister lives in Bethnal Green, not far from me.’
    ‘Right, so where are you going? The Tube station’s nowhere near here.’
    ‘Oh, that – I’m lost. I’ve been wandering around for ages. My car’s