Nena sits on the multicoloured chaise longue of FASH reception, legs curled underneath her, black mischievous eyes eyeing the side of the staircase high in front of her to see if she can spot her friend’s feet, ankles and legs before her torso lowers into view above them. It’s just a little game Nena’s playing with herself to while away her nerves. But Maya descends in too much of a hurry for her best friend to recognise her as quickly as she might. Or maybe Nena’s not seen enough of Maya lately to recognise her by her clothes. Nena has pretty much always worn a dancer’s uniform of leggings, a vest or off-the-shoulder top and then one brightly coloured piece on top. But ever since Maya went to work at Walk In Wardrobe, after they graduated from their south coast sojourn, her style has evolved. At first it was all about black separates in a killer cut. All-black everything was easier than having to think about what to wear in an office where it was all about high-fashion. When Maya moved to FASH and everyone seemed a little bit more street, a little bit more high street and a little bit more relaxed, Maya slunk into her comfort staples of jeans and Converse. But since she first saw Train Man on the platform that drizzly morning last July, Maya decided to unleash all her dresses that are cinched in at the waist, the cute vintage twinsets and the button-down circle skirts that she was Saving For Later because Maya realised that later had arrived. Who was she saving them for if not for Train Man?
So Nena doesn’t realise that the blush pink pumps with the bow on them or the stripy peach cotton dress with the big nude belt belong to Maya, until Maya’s chestnut waves bounce into sight.
Nena twists the ring on her left hand nervously, uncurls her legs and stands up with her arms open.
Maya doesn’t give Nena a bear hug as usual, just a gentle embrace and a quick peck on the cheek.
‘Hey hey you OK?’ Nena says.
‘Yes fine, where did you want to go? The canteen upstairs? A cafe out?’
Maya was surprised Nena wanted to come to meet her for lunch in the first place. She hasn’t seen her since Valentine’s Day two months ago. Nena was too busy around her birthday to meet for a cocktail and she still hasn’t been to visit the flat in Hazelworth. So why the sudden urgency to meet today?
‘Don’t mind, as long as we get out of here, all these fashion losers are making me want to hurl,’ Nena says, nodding her head towards the fresh-out-of-college intern in hot pants and Buffalo boots as she wheels a rail of clothes across reception.
Is Nena belittling what I do?
Maya tries to shake it off, she is after all happy to see Nena. It’s been too long.
‘How about that cafe there?’ Nena asks, pointing through the gaps in the columns to the cafe run by the Venezuelan couple over the road.
‘No, it’s not that good,’ Maya lies, thinking of their creamy fifty per cent cacao hot chocolate, wanting to keep that to herself and her ‘fashion loser’ friends.
‘Hermé?’ they both chime at the same time then laugh, relieved that a tense cloud is starting to evaporate over their heads.
Nena threads her arm through Maya’s, conveniently hiding her ring as they walk south towards Oxford Street exchanging pleasantries. Like fighter planes turning at the exact same time, they curve left through an unimposing side door into the food hall where sandwich shoppers fight through the crowds. Maya and Nena weave past the slim black deco font that says DELICATESSEN and down the steps into the gilded grandeur of the chocolatiers and macaron maestros.
Lemon and hazelnut praline; rose and quince; salted caramel; candied chestnut for Nena. Rose petal; Brazilian Paineiras Plantation chocolate; jasmine; pistachio and mandarin for Maya. They file through the stationery section and to the nearest Up escalator, all the way to the top-floor food court.
The window tables that look out onto Oxford Street are all occupied. Maya points to a table in the middle of the cafe, under a large white domed lampshade, and Nena nods. It’s a sunny spring day but light is needed in the middle of the department. As they sit, Maya wonders why Nena wanted to meet her, then a bright sparkle refracts from the light above.
‘Is that what I think it is?’
Nena looks flustered.
The girls have only just sat down but Maya’s bottom bounces straight back up off her chair.
‘Oh. My. God! When? How? When? How? How exciting!’
Maya’s face is hot under the light and she’s glad she’s wearing just a cotton sundress. Suddenly she wonders if she’s jumped the gun and Nena’s ring is costume jewellery. Surely Nena, the last girl to settle down, wouldn’t settle down with a guy – a dad – this quickly. But it doesn’t look like costume jewellery. It’s beautiful. A baguette-shaped diamond, deco and decadent shining shyly on its new owner’s finger.
Nena smiles nervously. ‘Tom asked, I said yes,’ she shrugs sheepishly.
Maya clutches Nena’s hand then wraps her arms around small shoulders, hugging from an awkward angle across the table.
‘How? When?’ Maya repeats, her voice getting higher.
‘My birthday, in the studio. Everyone was in on it. You know me, I don’t like a fuss…’ Nena flutters a huge eye and winks as she lets out a single bellow that belies her nerves.
‘I wasn’t in on it,’ Maya blurts uncharacteristically, surprising even herself. ‘Why didn’t you say sooner? Your birthday was a month ago.’
‘I don’t really know why. I’m so happy, I guess I was worried you’d disapprove.’
‘Disapprove?’
The girls look away from each other while the bubbles in their sparkling water jump and fizz. Nena is the first to speak.
‘It is sudden,’ she concedes.
‘I don’t think so,’ says Maya, thinking back to the conversation she had with Velma about the moment she met Duke Diamond on the subway. ‘If it’s right, it’s right. It doesn’t matter how quickly or slowly it took you to reach this point. And Tom seems amazing. I just wish I saw you both more so I could get to know him better. You must come up to Hazelworth and see the flat.’
Nena looks down. She knows she hasn’t been around for her friend lately. And looks back up.
‘You’re amazing, Maya. I should have known you’d be nothing but happy for me.’ Nena twists the rope of her hair to one side with both hands. ‘I guess I felt bad, for going off grid and spending all my time with Tom.’
‘Oh don’t worry about it!’ Maya casually waves a hand in the air pretending she doesn’t wish Train Man was her Tom. She doesn’t want to ruin Nena’s moment.
‘I was just trying so hard to ingratiate myself with Arlo and being around and constant for him. He needs consistency.’
Maya feels bad for feeling sorry for herself.
‘Don’t worry, really, it’s more important you’re there for them. I’m happy for you, I really am.’
‘Well it does feel weird and I have been feeling wretched for deserting the single sisterhood for Netflix and soft play.’
‘What’s “soft play”?’
‘Hell on earth, mostly.’
Maya laughs and looks down at the shiny cellophane bag on the table in front of her: pink, brown, green and orange hues snuggled together for comfort, destined to make the people whose mouths they unravel in happy. Although it will be Maya’s mouth and she hates to admit it, but sometimes she’s not happy.
‘I am sorry I’ve neglected you; that I haven’t even been to visit you in your flat yet.’
‘Don’t feel bad. I’m OK. And besides, we have a wedding to plan!’
‘Ah yes, but first this,’ says Nena, taking two tickets out of her bag. ‘Jack White. Hammersmith Apollo. July.’
Nena the charmer. As colourful and as full of zing as the macarons on the table.
*
Maya walks through her front door, kicks off her pumps and loosens the belt on her peach summer dress. Hot commuter feet are cooled by the black and white chequerboard tiles of the hallway. On the train home Maya looked for Train Man from the security of her seat and couldn’t see him. She thought about Nena. She felt sad that for one whole month Maya’s best friend didn’t tell her something she thought she would share with her straight away. She thought about the shock that Nena, the free spirit, is getting married.
Halfway up the hall, Maya spies a postcard that must have danced through the letter box and almost reached the foot of the stairs. Maya cricks her neck, drops her keys on the console table and picks up the card on her way up the stairs. On one side is an illustration of Josephine Baker. On the back is a little drawing of a macaron and in the same pen the familiar flowery scrawl of a familiar student fills the card even though it says just four words:
Perfection! As are you x