It's 10.07 pm Friday night and Monica is sat dressed looking like she's off to the Oscars but instead finds herself on a tube somewhere between Whitechapel and Stepney Green. Or maybe it's somewhere between Tower Hill and Aldgate East? She made a mental note to definitely pay more attention when they rolled into the next station. Her eyes scanned the long horizontal maps you find on the tube which aren't there to serve the purpose of working out how far you are from your stop, they exist as a get out of jail free card from making eye contact with the person opposite you. Heaven forbid you break the rules of social etiquette that only really exist within the walls of each Underground carriage. If you've ever seen a viral video of people singing on the tube and passengers sat around looking pleased, just know they're playing up for the cameras trained onto them. They'll spend the next week telling everyone they know how it ruined their journey home. Never make eye contact and never ever talk to strangers on the tube - Do not break these golden rules.
“The next station is Stepney Green,” instructs the well spoken pre-recorded voice of the lady over the Tannoy. Monica smiled as she thought of the 7 year old version of herself who couldn't figure out how the same man who made the announcements always seemed to get off the same train as her family did and get onto the next one too to tell them where they were at any given moment on their journey. Oh the innocence of youth, they were better days although at least women were now trusted to tell you what stop you're at, progress of a kind no? Her thoughts were interrupted as a woman sat down in the seat directly opposite. Before she had a chance to move her gaze away from the shiny tiles where she had been staring whilst the train was stationary she found herself suddenly staring at a kindly looking old woman instead who thankfully didn't look in the least bit intimidating much to her relief.
“Hello dear,” she says, instantly breaking all rules of underground etiquette. Let's hope the transport police don't board the train, that'll be a fine for direct eye contact and another for speaking to a passenger that you're not travelling with.
“Hi,” Monica replies and smiles.
“I hope you don't mind me saying dear but you look wonderful,” and she elbows some poor man who was half asleep probably after a long day's work, deep in his own little world with headphones on just minding his own. He jumps out of his skin and turns quickly on the defensive, but thankfully is quickly disarmed at the sight of the old woman. He removes the headphones perched from atop his head and he also now breaks the rules of TFL transport and apologises. Brits will always apologise even when something isn't their fault and they've no idea what they're apologising for.
“I was just saying young man doesn't she look wonderful?”
“I'm sorry, does who look wonderful?”
The woman points a finger at Monica. The man follows in the fingers direction and he earns himself another fine from TFL having diligently followed the rules of not looking at Monica once since she'd stepped into the carriage and he now looks directly at her. Monica could see the unease run through his body as he shuffled awkwardly in his seat. “You look…” he paused to gather his thoughts not wishing to come across as a sexual deviant “you look incredible. Like a million dollars,” and he tried his best to make his smile look real. The lady beamed at him, patted him on the hand and turned her attention back to Monica whilst he slipped his headphones back on and mouthed the words I'm sorry to Monica who wrinkled up her nose and gave a little nod as if to say I know don't worry it's not your fault.
“Where are you going dear? Are you off to dance? I used to like dancing when I was your age. Oh the fun we used to have, it was marvellous.”
“Oh no I'm going home.”
“Sorry dear you'll have to speak up. I'm going a bit deaf in my old age,” the woman replies louder as if going deaf is contagious. One finds that it's another phenomenon particularly associated only with British people.
Monica stands up from her seat and deposits herself in the space empty to the woman's left. “Can you hear me better now?”
“Oh yes that's much better thank you dear.”
“That's OK, you're very welcome. I was trying to tell you that I'm going home.”
The woman's face sinks with a look of disappointment on Monica's behalf. “Oh dear, that doesn't sound good. You should just be going out, not going home. Going home is for people my age. Shall I ask the young man to my right whether he'll take you dancing?”
“Oh no, no, no please don't, that won't be necessary.”
The woman laughs and pats Monica on the hand. “Don't worry dear I was only teasing. Besides I think he's deafer than I am.”
“Oh no, he's got noise cancellers on.”
“Noise what dear?”
“I'm sorry. His headphones are noise cancelling.”
“Oh so does that mean he's sat in silence?” she asks more than a little perplexed.
“Maybe,” Monica retorts, trying to mentally calculate whether it's worth explaining the principle of noise cancelling headphones to a woman who must be 85 years young or more.
The woman sighs and with the palms of her hands up moves them apart as if to say well what you gonna do?
“Please tell me at least that you went out. Maybe to dinner?” The second part of the question said with a real feeling of hope that Monica found genuinely touching.
“Oh yes. At the Miradora rooftop restaurant. Are you familiar with it?”
“Oh I'm sorry no dear. Did you say it was on a rooftop?”
“Yes. A flat roof mind.”
“Oh good, I was just wondering if your dinner would slide off somewhere.”
This made Monica giggle although she wasn't sure if she'd been joking or not when she had replied or genuinely just confused.
“It was very nice. Incredible views over the city.”
“Oh that sounds very nice indeed. Was it expensive? It sounds expensive.”
“For London it was reasonable. Let me think, what did we have? Oh, virgin Mojitos before the meals arrived and then we had Wagyu steak with chunky chips washed down with … hmmm… I want to say it was called a Chateau St Marie. Oh and finally New York cheesecake.”
“Oh I say New York Cheesecake did they have to fly that in especially for you all?”
“Oh no,” Monica says and giggles again and goes to explain but is interrupted before she can start.
“Don't worry I'm only teasing. Please don't think me rude but what is considered reasonable now for London?”
“Oh erm with service I think it was £175… £180 maybe.”
“Oh I say. How many of there were you? Big group was it? 8 to 10?”
“Oh no, just two of us.”
“Two of you? Oh my I nearly swore there. That wouldn't have been becoming of a lady would it now. I won't ask you the name of it again. Blimey I'd have fallen off the roof if you'd have given me that bill. Well I never. You could have brought an entire flat for that when I was your age.”
“Really?”
“Oh yes, years ago when money in this country had some value. I am sorry dear. I'm so very out of touch these days. Will you forgive me?”
“Oh of course there's really nothing to forgive.”
“Oh you are kind. So dare I ask, did you go on a date? That's not rude to ask is it? I don't mean to pry. Please feel free to tell me to mind my own business.”
“Oh no not at all you're fine. Yes I did go on a date actually with a man that a mutual friend suggested to me that I'd really like and get on with like a house on fire.”
“Oh I'm detecting something in your voice. Is that disappointment dear?”
“Oh erm yeah, yeah it could be actually.”
“Well you know what they say dear?”
“Plenty more fish in the sea?”
“Oh no, no dear. All men are complete idiots. His loss. It's alright though I won't upset this one beside me cause he's got these magic things on his ears and he can't hear me.”
In one sentence Monica's entire evening felt validated as she chuckled, not quite sure of how to respond at first.
“Thank you, those are very wise words. I will do my best to remember them and pass them on one day.”
“Good girl. So what went wrong then dear?”
“Ermmm. He just wasn't my cup of tea.”
“Ohhhh so your friend who thought you'd get on swimmingly did you up like a kipper then. Have you two been friends for long?”
“Now you mention it probably not long enough or maybe too long I'm not sure which.”
“Tell me. Does it take you long to look that amazing dear?”
“Oh erm yeah it does actually. Probably an hour and a half.”
“Oh that's a coincidence that's how long it takes me to get ready too but that’s just my age I'm afraid. It takes me ten minutes to get both my feet in these blasted shoes nowadays and that's on a good day.”
This time it was Monica's turn to lay her hand upon the woman's in an act of kindness. She thought about complimenting her but feared the woman would call bullshit. Not that she'd swear out loud, call it seeing through her lies. Besides she doubted that the woman was actually fishing for a compliment, more likely filling a hole of loneliness if only for a few minutes.
“Did he not pay dear?”
“Oh yes he paid the entire bill actually. He just… he just didn't have any chat.”
“Any chat dear?”
“Oh I'm sorry, let me rephrase that, I mean to say that we didn't really have anything to talk to each other about.”
“Oh that doesn't sound good. Did you make a list of things to talk about before you left?”
“I'm sorry, what now?”
“A list dear. Before you went out. You know of things you wanted to talk about together, write down a few words on a bit of paper in case you forget them and can refer back to?”
“Ohhhhhh is that a thing?” Monica replies genuinely surprised that something so simple actually made so much sense.
“Is that a thing? You're telling me you spend an hour and a half to look like a million dollars and you didn't spend five minutes thinking about what to talk about?”
Monica felt her cheeks begin to flush and she found her seven year old self again who'd been staring up at the map of stops above her.
“I'm rather embarrassed to say I've never ever thought of that before,” Monica admits.
“Oh well you'll know next time dear. Don't let those boys start talking about football either because once they start they'll never stop.”
Just then the announcement for Plaistow came over the Tannoy.
“Oh this is me dear. Well good luck. Got far to go?
“Oh no, not far just to Barking, couple of stops down.”
“Oh good, good. Well be lucky!”
“Thank you. I'll try.”
The old woman patted her on the hand one final time, her work seemingly done for the evening.
The train stopped and the woman shuffled out the carriage and onto the platform, turned around and stood waiting for the train to depart and waved at Monica who returned the favour, once more that little seven year old who'd have been thrilled that someone was waving specifically at her and she smiled before they both quickly fell out of each other's view. Who knew? She thought to herself. Write things down to talk about. I'll give it a try oh and maybe ignore the next time someone says I think you're really going to like this person.
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