February 2014
James is sitting at his desk with his back to the floor-to-ceiling glass window behind it. Dominic’s thick stance leans in as they scroll through the pages of a photographer’s website. James isn’t impressed.
‘Nope, it’s not strong enough. He’s taken a beautiful woman and made her look dead behind the eyes. How does someone even manage that?’
‘It’s not her eyes we’ll be focusing on,’ laughs Dominic like a schoolboy.
James scowls, irritated more by frustration than his friend. Last summer he and Dominic won the biggest account the MFDD agency has ever had in its eighteen-year history, but James doesn’t feel excited.
‘What about Catrin?’ Dominic tries to muster some enthusiasm.
‘She shot for Vanity Fair last month,’ James counters flatly.
‘Bloody hell. Yes, I imagine pubic hair removal will be erm, beneath her, now.’
Dominic finally gets a laugh out of his mate.
‘Look Millsy, it’s hardly our dream product but look at what it means around here. Jeremy thinks we’re the mutt’s nuts now, Fisher + Whyman are already asking us to pitch for more business and we’ve not even shot Femme yet. We’re flying here, mate. Why are you so down on it?’
Dominic perches a small doughy bottom onto James’s desk and folds meaty arms in his blue checked shirt.
‘I’m not down on it. I’m just struggling to get excited about it, I don’t know why really. I guess all this chat about camellia oil and ylang-ylang isn’t exactly my bag.’
‘You didn’t eat dog food, but you managed to get enthusiastic about that one. Mate, we just got a ten grand payrise. We’re casting models in bikinis tomorrow. We’re shooting in South Africa next month, Jamaica in September, this is the dream, Baby.’
James looks up at his friend. He used to find Dominic’s enthusiasm infectious and feels shitty that it isn’t now. He feigns a smile, dimples flash and disappear.
‘Look how far we’ve come! All those chumps out there on Charlotte Street who would give their right bollock to work at MFDD. We’re here, we worked our arses off to get here. Our boss thinks we’re great. This is a good thing, Millsy. Remember the spotty oiks we were at uni. Well, I was spotty…’ Dominic looks at his pockmarked face in the reflection of the glass then sees the reflection of the clock. ‘Shit I’m meant to meet Josie…’ he says, turning his head so he can read the time properly. ‘Two minutes ago.’
James laughs to himself. His friend is vocal and vulgar and talks the talk about living the dream on shoots with models, when actually he’s a pussycat, besotted with his girlfriend, who is the PA to the CEO at the first advertising agency he and James worked for, straight out of university, situated about fifty metres up the road from the one they’re standing in now.
We haven’t come that far.
‘Oh I’ll come out with you and say hi.’
‘I’d say you could join us for lunch but, you know, it is Valentine’s Day and all, Josie might rather you didn’t.’
‘Shit, Valentine’s Day. I didn’t realise it was the fourteenth.’
‘Millsy, how could you not realise it’s fucking Valentine’s Day? You work in advertising. We’ve been ramming it down people’s throats since Christmas. Jesus you are distracted. Bad luck, Kitty’s going to go mental.’ Dominic lets out a little laugh.
‘Well she didn’t mention it either. You go. Say hi to Josie, I’d better make a call.’
*
In the low light of a lab on a science park, thin fingers answer a silently flashing phone.
‘I’m in the middle of something, can I call you back?’
Terseness people only save for people they know will tolerate it.
‘Sure. Just wondering if you want dinner out tonight?’
‘Oh. Erm, well where? Why?’
‘It’s Valentine’s Day.’
‘We never celebrate Valentine’s Day.’
‘We used to.’
‘Well, obviously you’ve only just been reminded by Dominic, so it can’t matter that much to you.’
A furrowed face keeps trying. ‘Why don’t you get the train all the way through to London tonight, don’t get off at home, and I’ll take you somewhere special?’
‘Not Moro. Dominic is taking Josie to Moro tonight, at least be original.’
James doesn’t mention that Dominic and Josie are also meeting for a sandwich right now, so they must still really like each other.
‘Not Moro. Wherever you want.’
‘Well let me see how long this takes, I’m in the middle of an experiment, I have thirty mice all waiting to be infected.’
‘Nice,’ says James sarcastically.
James marvels at how only Kitty can do something so amazing for a living as trying to eradicate a disease yet speak so indifferently about the killing that is part of the process. How her face can look so hard and so ethereal at the same time. The bones of her spine stick out so prominently she looks like she might break, yet the steely glare of her grey eyes can floor him.
‘Look I have to go, I’ll let you know later if I can get in, if not I’ll see you at home.’
‘OK bye.’
James puts his phone on the desk and looks back at his screen, to the beautiful woman who is dead behind the eyes.
*
‘Fancy being my lesbian lover?’
Nena’s puzzled face rises up from behind her menu, starting with the colourful fake flowers in her hair. They are in their new favourite Soho eatery celebrating their least favourite night of the year. Part canteen, part deli, colourful woven bags adorn metal shelves and Middle Eastern delicacies jump out at diners, hoping to take the flavours of the meal home with them: pomegranate and orange blossom syrup, preserved lemons, sliced pink pickled turnips and Turkish delight in dusty colours stand like bright and beautiful treasures. Last year, Maya and Nena drank too many mango margaritas at the curry house up the road and the year before, they were thrown out of Soho’s best veggie restaurant after Nena drunkenly demanded flank steak five times from a humourless waiter.
Valentine’s Day dinner together has become something of a tradition. Even though Nena is never short of a date, she would rather be with Maya than with the barman or the handyman du jour. Usually.
‘Tempting as that offer is, Maya, you’re kind of lacking an appendage.’ Appendage. It’s a Nena word if ever there was one. ‘But if I were to be a lesbian, there is no other girl I would rather be with.’
‘Don’t be silly, I’m far too reliable and normal for you. I’d call when I said I would. You love a lover who doesn’t because he’s got into some ridiculous scrape, like that acrobat guy who fell and got tangled in his safety net, stood you up, and you had to pick him up from A&E.’
Nena raises a quizzical eyebrow as if to tell her that isn’t so, that she’s fallen in love with someone who’s very reliable in fact, and who calls every time he says he will. And when she sees his call incoming, her heart flutters and she feels… secure. And happy. But she’s not sure how to say it. Telling Maya, revealing that she has left the sisterhood of the solitary, feels like it might be a great treachery. Not because Maya wouldn’t be happy for her, she would. But admitting it might make it one hundred per cent real, and Nena can’t quite believe it herself. So she keeps her secret as close to her chest as the menu for now.
‘Why do you ask anyway?’
‘It’s just my boss has given me a voucher for a weekend in this luxe hotel and spa, and I have to take it before the end of the month. I have no one to go with, obviously, so I wondered if you fancied coming with me next weekend?’
Nena thinks through the Rolodex in her mind and sinks a little in her chair, hiding her face behind the menu so she doesn’t give herself away. Next weekend is a weekend Tom will have Arlo and Nena doesn’t want to miss out on a weekend with Tom and Arlo, although she can’t admit that just yet either.
Maya cranes her neck. ‘Are you hiding behind that menu?’
‘No, it’s just I’m crazy busy rehearsing through to March, so I can’t take any time off now, not even weekends.’
Nena’s star is soaring: her presenting has gone down brilliantly at the corporation, she’s done a few glossy magazine interviews and there’s talk at work of her being giving her own dance-based show for kids. Thirty and forty something parents have started saying hi to Nena in the supermarket, thinking they must know her from playgroup or Tumbletots, when actually she’s the girl from the TV who their kids love and laugh along with.
‘Thanks though. I do appreciate it. Why don’t you take Clara? Gawd knows she’d need some peace and tranquillity with all that running around after three boys. I don’t know how she has the energy.’
Maya has never seen parental empathy in Nena before, but it’s a good suggestion.
‘Yeah, maybe I’ll ask her. I’m not sure she’s ready to leave Oscar though.’
‘How come your boss gave it to you anyway? Gold star for Maya again?’
‘Well it’s a bit weird. I kind of got it for something I did, but it feels like a bit of a payoff.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh it’s too boring to go into. I’ve just noticed a few changes around work lately.’
Maya is conveniently interrupted by a waiter with slicked-back hair and stubble as black as his shirt.
Maya and Nena decide to share a mezze platter of baba ganoush, hummus, tabbouleh, falafel, pitta and pickles, washed down with a rose and rum daiquiri for Maya and an Arak mojito for Nena.
‘Easy on the rum though,’ says Maya, a private joke with Nena about the mayhem of Valentines past.
Nena suddenly feels very exposed without a menu in front of her face, and very guilty about what she’s going to do later. She can’t keep this secret from her best friend any more.
‘Happy Valentine’s Day!’ Maya toasts when the drinks arrive. ‘All these losers will have split up by Easter anyway.’
Nena looks down while she chinks her Moroccan tea glass against Maya’s.
‘Actually Maya… I may as well tell you now, otherwise I’m going to be feeling rotten all night…’
‘What what?’
‘I’m going on a date later.’
‘Wow!’
‘Well, not really a date. More of a booty call.’
Maya can tell when Nena is playing something down.
‘It’s OK, you can tell me…’
‘Well you know my boss,’
‘Tom!’ they say in unison.
‘I knew it, Nena, he’s lovely! And he so clearly had the hots for you.’
‘Well I did worry that that was the only reason he hired me, but since it’s taken off and other people like me too, I’ve relaxed about it, I’ve relaxed about him. He’s amazing.’
‘What about Liam?’
‘Who’s Liam?’
‘Your electrician!’
Nena takes a sip from her cocktail to wash down any parsley, mint or cracked wheat that might have got stuck between her white teeth.
‘Oh him. The spark went out.’
The girls laugh. Nena relaxes.
‘Wow, so you’re not seeing anyone else?’
‘Nope.’ Nena looks proud and happy. Her face lit up with a flush of love.
‘What about his kid, didn’t you say he has a son?’
‘Yes, and I am as in love with him as I am with Tom. He’s amazing Maya. Arlo. He’s so sweet. So funny. So cuddly. He lives with his mum, who has been pretty cool about us, and he stays with us – with Tom – every other weekend and a night or two in the week, depending on when Tom can get him from the childminder.’
Maya knocks back the rest of her sweet fragrant drink and feels instantly heady.
‘You said the L word. Wow.’ She smooths down the chiffon of her love-heart print dress – her only nod to romance this year; she couldn’t bring herself to give Train Man a card. ‘It takes a lot for you to shock me, Nena, I think I’ve seen it all – but… monogamy! Parenthood!’
Nena pauses to read Maya’s familiar face, hoping that her friend is happy for her and not upset that, if she were to know the truth, she would rather be with Tom right now.
‘It’s amazing. I’m so happy for you.’
Maya squeezes Nena’s hand and accidentally gets some hummus on it.
‘Oops. Sorry.’
Relief.
‘That’s why I can’t really go to the spa with you… thanks though lovely.’
‘It’s OK, I get it. But you have to help me now otherwise I’m going to be the annoying third wheel. How do I make Train Man mine? I’ve got to do something to initiate a conversation on an otherwise silent train. Help me out, you’re the master at this.’
Eyelids painted as brightly as the flowers in her hair flash as Nena blinks slowly and thoughtfully. ‘Shit you missed a trick with Valentine’s Day. You could have given him a card.’
‘I did think about it, but no… too schoolgirl.’
‘Well I’m assuming you’ve done the ticket drop,’ Nena says, as if it’s standard procedure.
‘Ticket drop?’
‘It’s textbook, Maya! “Accidentally” drop your ticket on the floor – in Train Man’s vicinity – and see if he picks it up. If he does, you are on his radar, so he’s secretly tracking you too. If he doesn’t notice and someone else picks it up, then it’s curtains, game over, move on, sit in another carriage.’
Suddenly Maya feels sad.
How can she be so flippant about this?
The thought of moving to another carriage and no longer experiencing the best thing about her day is too much.
*
Under the fan on the high ceiling of a small kitchen, Maya is using tonight’s meal as inspiration for her next attempt at macarons. The whizzing motor of the heavy white KitchenAid won’t disturb anyone; it doesn’t matter if a dusting of icing sugar coats the surface of her kitchen. It doesn’t even matter if Maya doesn’t get as much sleep as she ought to tonight. She has too many ideas whizzing around her head. Rose and lemon and almond and orange blossom flavours whisk and blend and fold and pipe and rise and come out of the oven looking almost perfect in rows of yellow, pink and orange. The few shells that are slightly too brown on one side make a good midnight treat.
As Maya sandwiches her Valentine’s gift together and stacks the finished articles in a box, she thinks of Nena. How happy she is that Nena has found love. How surprised she is that Nena wants to be a mother to a toddler. How proud she is that Nena’s career is soaring and soon she will have her own TV show. But as Maya turns the oven off at 12.59 a.m. and walks the two flights of stairs to the top of the maisonette in silence, she can’t help feel sad about how, when she turned back to say one last thing to Nena as they parted, she couldn’t. Nena was already running away from her down Oxford Street, desperate to be somewhere else, a rainbow of flowers darting into the distance.