The Shape of Us: A hilarious and emotional page turner about love, life and laughter

by Drew Davies

  ‘Good to meet you, mate.’

  ‘You too.’

  ‘What brings you out this evening?’ Daisy asks, afraid if she doesn’t lead the conversation it will stumble into awkward territory.

  ‘My folks are down for the weekend,’ says Warren, nodding towards an older couple reading menus by the bar. Beside them, a pretty but bored-looking blonde girl in her mid-twenties texts on a phone. ‘Mum, come over here. I want you to meet someone.’

  Warren’s mother joins them, wearing a voluminous pink scarf and an appearance of weary indignation.

  ‘He’s doing it again,’ she says, ‘I told him we’ll eat after the show.’

  ‘Where’s the food on this menu?’ says Warren’s dad as he approaches. ‘Not bar snacks, proper food.’

  ‘I’m Daisy, nice to meet you.’

  ‘You too, love,’ says Warren’s mother, her Mancunian accent much stronger than her son’s. ‘Ooh, I’m jealous of your bubbly!’ She nods in her husband’s direction. ‘He’s had us pounding pavements all afternoon.’

  ‘Five quid they want for olives! Five quid!’

  ‘It’s Mum’s birthday today,’ explains Warren.

  ‘Wow!’ says Daisy. ‘Have you been anywhere nice?’

  Warren’s mother nods.

  ‘We had a lovely afternoon tea at, what’s the hotel again?’

  ‘The Ritz.’

  ‘That’s right, like the song.’

  ‘Hours ago,’ chimes in Warren’s father.

  The blonde girl wanders closer, still texting. Daisy can’t remember if Warren had a sister.

  ‘Which show are you seeing?’ asks Daisy.

  ‘Mamma Mia!,’ Warren’s mother replies.

  ‘Tiny cakes and tiny sandwiches. I say, leave the crusts on if it’s going to make them more substantial.’

  ‘I do love – whats-her-name, Meryl Streep – in the film. But how do you two know each other?’

  ‘We work together on shoots,’ Warren says to his mother. ‘Daisy’s the best in the biz.’

  ‘I’m not sure about that…’

  ‘If there’s someone better, I’ve not met them.’

  ‘I’m just a props maker, Warren’s the real whizz kid.’

  ‘You should see some of the things she’s made, Mum. One time, she built an elephant for a safari shoot – this big it was. The trunk moved with switches and everything.’

  At this exchange, the girl glances up from her phone with a look of – what? Intrigue? Jealousy perhaps? Definitely not a sister then.

  ‘And what do you do – Chris, is it?’ asks Warren.

  Chris sits upright on his stool.

  ‘Investments, mostly.’

  Warren’s dad sniffs. ‘Hope you’re not one of those criminals who ruined the country.’

  ‘Don’t listen to him. Clive, don’t be rude. We’re guests here.’

  ‘I pay my taxes,’ Clive replies.

  ‘But you’re enjoying London?’ Daisy says, trying to change the subject.

  ‘We are,’ says the mother. ‘There’s so much going on, isn’t there?’

  ‘Too much, if you ask me.’

  ‘No one did, Clive.’

  ‘What type of investments?’ asks Warren.

  ‘The usual sort,’ replies Chris. ‘Developed equities. Corporate bonds.’

  ‘Who do you work for?’

  ‘Myself mostly.’

  ‘Six pound fifty for a bowl of chips!’

  ‘And where do you live, Daisy?’ Warren’s mother asks.

  ‘I’m in Queensway, near Notting Hill. It’s my friend’s place though, I just rent a room – I wish I could afford somewhere near Notting Hill!’

  ‘Clive, we’ve seen the film of that, haven’t we? Whats-her-name with the teeth, the one you like…’

  ‘Julia Roberts. She’s a member of Mensa, did you know? A very intelligent woman.’

  ‘Chris lives just around the corner.’

  ‘Does he? Must be nice to live by all the shops. Very central.’

  ‘Those investments must be doing well,’ says Warren. ‘Maybe I should ask you for some advice?’

  ‘Feel free, any time.’

  ‘She’s an accomplished equestrienne,’ continues Warren’s father. ‘Not a lot of people know that about Julia Roberts.’

  ‘And isn’t the Charlotte Street Hotel beautiful?’ Warren’s mother says to Daisy.

  ‘It’s one of my favourites. Where are you staying?’

  ‘The Travelodge in Southwark.’

  ‘Ah – that’s nice too. How are you finding it?’

  ‘The staff are very friendly.’

  ‘But you can’t get ice for love nor money,’ Warren’s father grumbles.

  ‘Sorry, I don’t think we’ve been introduced?’ Daisy says to the girl.

  ‘Cara,’ she says, smiling wanly.

  ‘Oh, you’re American?’

  ‘Canadian. I’m from Toronto originally.’

  ‘I like your dress.’

  ‘It’s vintage.’

  ‘I wish I had the patience for vintage. Rooting around all those second-hand shops. Doesn’t it take a lot of energy?’

  Cara shrugs. ‘I bought this on eBay.’

  ‘Oh, well, it’s lovely on you. Do you work in fashion?’

  ‘No, I’m a receptionist at the investment bank Mercer and Daggen.’

  ‘But what about you, Daisy?’ interrupts Warren. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress. You scrub up nicely.’

  ‘If there’s one thing I hate,’ announces his father, ‘it’s drinking tepid liquids.’

  ‘Clive, really! I’ve had it up to here with you today! When you get back to the hotel, just have bottled water from the fridge.’

  ‘It’s never cold enough.’

  ‘Anyway,’ Warren says, ‘we should let you get back to your evening.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere until I’ve eaten.’

  ‘Let’s get a table then, Dad.’

  ‘Lovely to meet you,’ Daisy says to Warren’s mother.

  ‘You too, love. Take care.’

  ‘Enjoy the rest of your trip.’

  ‘I’ll try,’ she says, rolling her eyes in the direction of her husband.

  ‘They seemed nice,’ Chris says when they’ve gone to the other side of the bar.

  ‘Mmm hmm,’ says Daisy, taking a big sip of champagne.

  ‘I’ve never seen you like that.’

  ‘Like what?’ she asks nervously.

  ‘All charming with the parents.’

  ‘Yes,’ Daisy says, relaxing a bit. ‘Parents do tend to love me.’

  ‘And Warren, he’s…’

  ‘Your glass is empty,’ says Daisy, quickly standing up. ‘My round this time. Same again?’

  Voicemail received from Adam at 9.16 p.m.:

  Heya, mate. Congratulations on the promotion! Do they know how much of a reprobate you are? I’m a bit nervous they’re putting you in charge of million p-pound accounts, when you’re still not confident taking down the clothes horse. Hang on, gotta—.

  Voicemail received from Adam at 9.19 p.m.:

  Sorry about that. Bit hectic here tonight. Seriously, well done. I’ve been given a sort of unofficial p-promotion myself, so we both have something to celebrate. The only thing is, I can’t make Friday – I’m being sent on a last-minute business trip to Frankfurt and I’ll be away most of the week. It also means I won’t be able to let the boiler guy in either. Ap-p-pologies, it’s chaotic here, but better than being unemployed though, right? Ha. I’ll give Mum a call t… (Hushed whisper, barely audible) Oh no, someone’s com––

  Sorry again. Phone p-playing up. Owe you a drink or twenty. Bottle of duty-free plum schnapps? A

  Before she heads to the bar, Daisy nips to the loo and afterwards, as she’s washing her hands, Cara enters the bathroom.

  ‘Hello,’ Daisy says, cheerily.

  ‘Oh, hi…’ replies Cara, with a strained smile.

  ‘I’m sorry ab
out just now,’ Daisy says, drying her hands with a paper towel.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘My woman’s intuition picked up on your woman’s intuition.’ Cara looks at Daisy blankly. ‘With Warren. When he was introducing me to his mum.’

  ‘I don’t…’

  ‘I could tell by your expression that you knew about Warren and me. And I don’t want anyone to feel awkward. They’re always weird, these situations, right?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You seemed a bit off with me. And I totally get it. But I’m not a threat, I’m nothing you should be worried about. We didn’t even have a proper thing. It wasn’t even a thing really, it was nothing.’

  ‘You were seeing Warren?’

  ‘Not really seeing…’

  ‘What were you doing then?’

  ‘We just had a few… dates.’

  ‘So, you were dating?’

  ‘Not really even dating. Like I said, it was a thing, but it’s nothing to worry about. Not even a thing!’ Daisy says with a laugh, which is supposed to convey savoir faire but comes out as a manic cackle.

  Cara folds her arms: ‘So when were you dating?’

  ‘I, er…’ says Daisy, stumbling over her words, ‘Like I said, we were never officially dating.’

  ‘When were you unofficially dating?’

  Daisy shakes her head.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m really confused – I thought you knew already. The look on your face? When we were being introduced?’ Daisy lowers her voice. ‘While Warren was praising my elephant.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if I had any look on my face, it was probably because I’m fed up with his parents. His dad never stops complaining, and his mum… She’s all smiles on the surface, but she hasn’t said one nice word about me since she got here!’

  Cara starts to tear up.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

  ‘And now some mad ex-girlfriend is accosting me in the toilets. I told him it was too soon to meet his parents, we’ve only been going out a few months.’

  ‘Here,’ says Daisy, passing her a paper towel.

  ‘Thanks,’ Cara says, blotting the underneath of her eyes. ‘Last night, his mother said I had a “healthy appetite” just because I ordered the garlic bread.’

  ‘People can be cruel,’ Daisy says gently.

  ‘So, how long ago were you seeing Warren?’ Cara says, still blotting.

  ‘It – whatever “it” was – started over a year ago, and finished, I guess, a couple of months back.’

  ‘When exactly?’

  ‘I don’t know – some time in July.’

  Cara’s mouth drops open.

  ‘July this year?’

  ‘Or maybe early August. But we hadn’t seen each other for…’

  ‘We met in June!’

  * * *

  Back at the table, Chris is playing with the salt and pepper shakers when Warren sits down opposite him.

  ‘Hi,’ says Chris uncertainly. ‘Did you… order some food?’

  ‘We did, we did. So, how long you known Daisy for?’

  ‘A couple of months now.’

  ‘She’s a great girl.’

  ‘She sure is.’

  ‘I’ve been working with her for a couple of years,’ Warren says, leaning forward. His breath has the slightly sour note of someone who hasn’t drunk enough water. ‘I guess you could say, we keep an eye out for each other. There are a lot of weirdos in the world, a lot of players, if you know what I mean.’ Chris doesn’t know what Warren means, but he assumes it has something to do with a hurt male ego, and so he nods anyway. ‘I’m a bit protective of her, I suppose.’

  ‘That’s very good of you.’

  ‘I want to make sure she’s not going to be jerked around by anyone. Because if someone hurt Daisy, I’d be pretty upset.’

  Chris feels that strange Spider-Man tingling which usually means someone is about to be punched. Warren is as tall as he is, and about the same weight. Chris wishes he hadn’t worn his toecap Derby brogues – the soles are new and haven’t been broken in yet – they’ll be slippery in a scuffle. He also doesn’t want to get blood on his suit. Chris has only ever been in two fights – once when he was eight at boarding school (which he lost), and the time he tried to stop a brawl between two drunken girls in Oxford, for which he received a black eye. He was definitely a lover, not a fighter – but something in Warren’s body language says he might not have a choice in the matter.

  ‘I think we’re on the same page about Daisy,’ says Chris, trying to buy some time. He looks around for a makeshift weapon, not to do any serious harm, just something to bop Warren over the head with and render him unconscious.

  ‘I hope we are, mate. Because you know what they say about northern men?’

  There’s only the salt and pepper shakers – nothing good for clobbering in reaching distance. Why hadn’t he bought a whole bottle of champagne instead of just two glasses?

  Chris realises Warren is waiting for an answer.

  ‘I don’t know. Northern men are male and live at higher latitudes?’

  ‘Are you getting smart with me, mate?’

  Surreptitiously, Chris fists the pepper shaker in his left hand.

  * * *

  ‘Friends with benefits! How’s that better than dating?’

  Daisy is not making her point very effectively.

  ‘Because it wasn’t a relationship,’ she says, ‘There was just…’

  ‘Benefits?’

  ‘Yes. But not very often. And not in June. At least I don’t think so.’

  ‘Warren and I had a very long, very open conversation about our exes. I thought we were being honest with each other. And now his parents hate me!’ Cara starts to cry again. ‘I should break up with him!’

  ‘No, you don’t want to do that. Sleep on it, you’ll feel very differently about things in the morning.’

  ‘We’re all going to breakfast at Balthazar in the morning!’ wails Cara. ‘I’ll have to eat an egg white omelette while they all have sausages and chips. No, I’m going to break up with him now.’

  ‘But Warren’s such a lovely guy.’

  ‘Why didn’t you date him then?’

  Daisy doesn’t have an answer for this.

  ‘He must like you a lot if he introduced you to your parents?’

  ‘If he really cared about me, he’d stand up to his mum.’

  ‘But you’ll miss Mamma Mia!’ says Daisy in a last-ditch effort to salvage Warren’s relationship.

  ‘I’ll rent the movie,’ Cara says, stomping into one of the cubicles and banging the door closed.

  * * *

  Chris has a plan. He’s unscrewed the top of the pepper shaker under the table and as soon as things get hairy, he’ll throw pepper into Warren’s eyes and make a run for it. What about Daisy? He can’t leave her here. New plan. He’ll biff the pepper and yell for Daisy while Warren’s blinded. When Daisy returns, he’ll grab her hand and run – he can explain when they’re somewhere safer.

  ‘You think this is a joke?’ Warren is saying.

  ‘Not at all. I appreciate you only have the best interests for Daisy. It’s admirable she has such a strong network of people looking out for her.’

  ‘You’re taking the mickey.’

  ‘I mean it. But if we really care about Daisy, shouldn’t we be less worried about each other and more concerned about how the system treats women? Pay parity, glass ceilings, unrealistic body expectations…’

  ‘Right, mate. This is your last chance.’

  ‘What are you boys talking about?’ Daisy says, appearing slightly flushed.

  ‘Daisy!’ says Warren, all big smiles again. ‘I was just getting to know Chris better.’

  ‘Good, good! Chris, I think we should go otherwise we’re going to be late for the thing.’

  ‘Yes, the thing,’ Chris says, jumping up. ‘We better run.’

  ‘Sorry, Warren. Must go, can’t be late.’
Daisy gives Warren a swift kiss on the cheek, and then she and Chris are out the door, lickety-split.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Daisy says as they hurriedly try to put some distance between them and the bar. ‘Warren and I had a bit of a thing.’

  ‘I thought as much,’ says Chris.

  ‘We can call it a night if you like?’ she says, downcast.

  ‘What do you mean, the evening’s only started!’ Chris puts his arm around Daisy and kisses her on the side of her forehead. ‘Takes more than an aggressive ex-boyfriend to put me off.’

  Daisy nestles her head into his chest gratefully.

  ‘Chris?’

  ‘Ya-ha?’

  ‘Why are you holding a pepper shaker?’

  ‘No reason,’ he says, kissing her head again.

  Voicemail received from Patrick at 3.59 p.m.:

  Hi, mate. Tried to call you a few times, but your phone is always off. Not sure if you’ve gone to Germany already? Had a bit of a funny conversation with the landlord – apparently our rent hasn’t gone in this month. He said the standing order has been cancelled, which is weird. I put my half into your account like normal – maybe there was a mix-up at your bank?

  One other thing. I called your reception and they said there was no record of an Adam Jiggins working there. You should get that sorted, mate – you don’t want people to get the wrong impression. Speak soon.

  Eleven

  The delivery man struggles with the box down the hallway.

  ‘What’s in here?’ he says, out of breath, resting one shoulder against the wall. ‘Bricks or somefing?’

  Dylan still has no idea what’s inside the box, but his imagination has been working overtime.

  ‘Where do you want it?’ asks the delivery man, dumping it on the coffee table without waiting for an answer.

  Otis sniffs the cardboard box suspiciously. It’s sealed with thick black tape – there’s no writing on the sides of the box, only a plastic delivery patch with Dylan’s name and address.

  The delivery man wipes his sweaty forehead on his bicep.

  ‘Right, if you can sign…’