by Kiki Archer
“It makes a good shot. Here, let me lift up both doors.”
Julie got out of the car. “Incredible! It looks like a winged eagle!”
Camila watched the exchange open-mouthed. What on earth was going on? Her friend was lolling about on the bonnet, legs and arms akimbo. It looked like a tweed catalogue shoot gone wrong. That, or the start of a low-budget porn film.
“Don’t just stand there! Take the picture!” Julie was laughing. “Look at us! It’s me and Harriet Imogen Pearson off the telly. We’re sprawled over her Lamborghini! Harriet, sprawl a bit more. Cock your leg up like me! That’s it. Camila, quick take the picture!”
Camila slowly lifted the phone before clicking once. “Harriet, I really am sorry.”
“It’s fine!” said Harriet. “Right, shall we go in?”
“Follow me!” squealed Julie, hauling herself off the car and trotting straight towards Camila’s front door.
Camila turned again to Harriet. “I really am—”
“Stop it. I love meeting new people and Julie’s great fun.” Clicking her car locked, Harriet continued. “And I don’t mind having my picture taken.” She paused. “But my leg wasn’t too cocked was it? I have to be careful what gets shared out there.”
“You looked fine. Julie was the one spread eagle.” Camila turned to the house and her hallway that was now visible with the front door wide open, the boys’ bags strewn all over the floor. “Julie!” she snapped, as her friend picked them up quickly.
“Is Julie your cleaner?” Harriet was frowning.
Julie cut in. “She bloody wishes! No, Camila asked me to have a straighten-up before you arrived. Come in, it’s fine now.”
Camila flushed. “I just asked for a quick check.” She turned to her neighbour. “But I see you used the time to play dress-up instead.”
Julie feigned offence. “I’ve been wearing this all day.”
“Tweed?” said Camila. “In your bacon butty van?”
“I have a very posh customer.”
“News to me. What are they called?”
“Figgy.”
Camila tried not to laugh. “Stop being so silly.” She turned to Harriet. “Please do come through. We’ll go in the kitchen because I very much doubt my nice scented candle has been lit in the lounge.”
“It hasn’t,” said Julie, “but Figgy’s real. She comes to the van with her friend Queenie.”
Camila led them into the kitchen. “Figgy and Queenie? And what do they order?”
“Fried bread, with a Fanta.”
Camila couldn’t help but laugh. “Which they eat in their tweed? Harriet, I’m sorry, please ignore this nonsense and sit down.”
“Jodhpurs actually.”
Harriet joined in. “It’s fascinating. You’re making me feel right at home. I knew a Figgy once.”
Julie laughed. “I bet you did.”
“Right,” said Camila, turning to her friend. “Thank you very much for popping in but I think I can take it from here.”
“Could I have my phone back please?”
Camila passed over the mobile.
Julie stayed where she was. “Wait, I’ve got messages.”
Camila shared another apologetic look with Harriet before moving back into the hallway and shouting up the stairs to the boys announcing, if they hadn’t heard already, that she was home. It was at this point that the sheer dread hit her. She could hear Julie’s phone from where she was. The automated voicemail had just announced that Julie had two messages. “Julie!” she screamed.
“Mum?!”
“Wait, Michael!” gasped Camila, dashing back into the kitchen.
“Mum,” said Michael coming down the stairs, “it’s important. Cassie’s here and we wondered—”
“Michael, wait!” Camila reached out and grabbed Julie’s phone from its position in the crook of Julie’s neck. It wasn’t on speakerphone but the volume was loud enough to clearly relay the words of message. “Julie! It’s weird!” she was saying, “I don’t want to go!”
“What are you doing?” squealed Julie, standing up and grabbing the phone back.
“Turn it off,” said Camila, trying to jab at the handset but accidentally clicking the loudspeaker button as Julie yanked it back, sending it slipping through her silk gloves and under the section of kitchen counter that was missing a baseboard.
The panicked voice was even louder. “…dash round and pretend we’re going to an AA meeting—”
“Please don’t listen to this!” gasped Camila, now on all fours.
“…pretend you’ve got a meeting and I’ve offered to come along and support, that way I can be all gutted that I’ve doubled booked—”
“La-la-la-la-la,” Camila was shouting. “Michael! Quick! Come in here! Your arms are longer than mine; quick, reach down and get the phone!”
“Please, Julie. Make something up. A doctor’s appointment that I’ve got to come along to? Just something. Please.”
“I’m not an alcoholic!” gasped Julie to the occupants of the kitchen.
“I can’t get it, Mum.”
“Just reach, Michael, reach!”
“I’m not an alcoholic, Harriet.” Julie was shaking her head. “I don’t know why Camila would say that. I know I didn’t come and clean her house like she asked me to but this is taking it too far.”
“I think I’ve got it,” winced Michael, now on his stomach on the kitchen floor. “Where don’t you want to go, Mum?” he said, pulling the phone out and handing it over.
Camila stabbed the button to end the call.
“Mum?”
“Just shush,” whispered Camila before turning around to the room. “Harriet,” she nodded, “this is my eldest son, Michael.”
Michael smiled. “Oh wow! Can I have a selfie?” He sprinted into the hall and yelled, “Cassie! Quick! Come and get a selfie. Bring my phone.”
“Who’s having selfies?” asked Ethan, walking into the kitchen and looking up from his iPad. “Neat!” he screamed. “It’s you! Can I have a selfie as well?”
Chapter Fourteen
Closing the front door behind Julie, Camila heard giggles from upstairs. The boys and Cassie were no doubt excitedly poring over the selfies that Harriet had graciously posed for. Realistically, Harriet should have simply walked out. She’d heard the whole message. Everyone had heard the whole message and it was wholeheartedly embarrassing for each person involved. Apart from Julie. Julie didn’t seem bothered at all. Camila shook her head. What had Julie said on the phone? “That’s what friends are for.” Yet she hadn’t done what she had been asked to do. She’d used the time to dress up like a demented aristocrat and invent ridiculous stories about Figgy and her penchant for Fanta to ingratiate herself with a woman she’d moments before said was weird and full-on.
Taking a deep breath, Camila walked back into the kitchen. “There was a second message,” she said, lifting her hands, ready to explain.
Harriet shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does. I changed my mind. I said I did want to go. It’s just been a hectic day and I was confused and frazzled and Julie wasn’t helping.”
“Julie seems to like me.”
“Tell me about it!” Camila reached for a chair and sat down. “Forgive me. I’m a novice.”
“A novice what? A novice friend? A novice socialiser? A novice with gay women?”
“It’s not that.”
“It obviously is. You’d never second guess a straight woman. You’d never debate whether to go somewhere or not.”
“I probably would.”
“You wouldn’t.”
Remembering all of the times she’d made fast friends with the women at playgroup, Camila looked away. They’d meet up the next day, sometimes the same afternoon. They’d slot into each other’s calendars without a care in the world, just glad of the company, never once questioning whether it was peculiar to suddenly spend so much time with a stranger. Angling her chair so she was face on
to Harriet, Camila nodded. “You’re my boss.”
“Not day-in-day-out and the set-up’s not like that. Look, it doesn’t matter. The last thing I want is to make you feel uncomfortable. I’m not weird. At all. I’m just someone who gives. I’m too giving in fact.”
“I’m an idiot, aren’t I?” Camila shook her head.
“It’s fine. I’ve been here before.”
“But I’m different.”
“I thought you were.”
Watching the eyes, Camila cursed herself. The connection was undeniable. What that connection was, she had no clue, and whether the general public would class it as strange, or too soon shouldn’t matter; they had a bond; they were on the same level somehow. “I’m not a charity case.”
“Where did that come from? I never said you were.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. I was actually thinking that we should ignore what people say and just do what makes us happy.”
“I’m not asking you to marry me, Camila! Honestly, this is getting too confusing even for me. I’m just a woman you’ve made a connection with, a connection I rightly or wrongly believed would bring us both some fun.”
“But what am I adding to the pot?”
“This! Your neighbour. Your boys. They’re such fun. Plus, we agreed you’d help me complete my new bucket list.”
“Making tea for two teenagers?”
“And one of their girlfriends it seems.” Harriet stood up. “So where do I start?”
“She’s not his girlfriend. They’re study buddies.”
“You’re sure about that? Do you have eggs?”
“Harriet, sit down, I can’t have you making my children’s tea.”
“Yes, you can. Go and get changed. You can’t wear your work suit for iFly. You need something comfortable. Trousers and top. Lace up shoes. When you’re changed I want you to take a seat in the lounge. Light that infamous scented candle of yours. Just relax. I’ve got this.”
“Have you got clothes to change in to?”
Harriet smiled. “So we’re still going then?”
“If you’ll still have me?”
Harriet opened the fridge door. “I was thinking of asking Julie if I could borrow some of her clothes. She’s got my style spot on. And it doesn’t look like you’ve got eggs.”
Camila studied her boss’s attire and laughed. There was nothing faux-aristocratic about her. She simply had style. A statement gold necklace that was accessorising a fitted black dress, heels that were clearly expensive and a longer length tailored jacket with simple collar that pulled the whole outfit together. The sight of her leaning into the small white fridge was quite something. “There’s food in the freezer. Honestly, let me do it.”
“No. Go. It’s on my bucket list and I always achieve my bucket lists.” Harriet smiled. “That’s what you can do when you’re changed. Sit in the lounge and write down ten things you’d like to achieve. I’ll do the same in here. We can share our lists and discuss them en-route to Thai Rainbow.”
“Thai Rainbow?” Camila smiled. Thai Rainbow was the posh restaurant she’d noticed in the upmarket shopping place in town, home to the likes of Harvey Nichols and Malmaison. The luxury complex had been pitched as a lifestyle destination and was somewhere she’d gone once, by accident, fast concluding it wasn’t the place for her. All it had taken was a glance in a few windows and she was out of there. But it was the small restaurant, Thai Rainbow, where her gaze had lingered that little bit longer. The aromas spilling out of the open doors had been heavenly and the beautifully carved teak interior that was visible through pretty arched windows had looked other-worldly. Well, she had decided it must look like Thailand with its dainty flowers and intricate sculptures – one in particular of a mermaid and a swan still vivid in her memory. Either way the prices on the menu were ridiculous so she’d returned to her car and the retail park she’d intended to visit that housed a huge Primark, two H&Ms and three Greggs bakeries amongst the Poundlands and discount stores.
Giving in to Harriet’s insistence, Camila made her way upstairs, pausing to listen outside Michael’s room. It was quiet. Too quiet. She lifted her hand to knock but stopped herself. What if they were mid sum? She dropped her hand. But what if that sum was multiplication? Knocking quickly, she shouted. “All okay in there? Tea in half an hour.” She had no clue what Harriet was cooking, but if she opted for freezer food then half an hour was about right. The door opened quickly and her son signalled her in.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Shhhh!” said Michael closing the door behind her.
“What?”
“That’s Harriet Imogen Pearson!”
“I know.”
“Shhhh!”
“What?”
“I hope you’ve apologised!”
“It was a misunderstanding, Michael.”
Cassie got up from the bed. “Do you think she’d come to school and give a talk about her achievements? She’s an incredible woman.”
“That you insulted!” added Michael.
Camila looked at the route Cassie had taken. She’d risen from her seated position on the bed – that was covered in books – over the carpet, that was covered in folders, to their position at the door next to Michael’s desk – that was strewn with stationary. It was fine, she concluded, nothing untoward was happening here. “Pardon?” she said, focusing back on the pair.
“You insulted her! She’s Harriet Imogen Pearson.”
“You knew I was working for her.”
“I knew you were working at H.I.P but I didn’t think she’d be there and I definitely didn’t think she’d be in our house! She’s amazing, Mum.”
Camila couldn’t help the squeak of disbelief her voice box emitted. It was the most animated she’d seen her son in a long time.
“What?” he huffed.
“That’s the longest sentence you’ve said so far this year.” She smiled. “What did you want me for earlier?”
“Oh. Cassie. Can she have tea?”
Camila turned to the pretty girl. “Of course you can. Harriet’s cooking.”
Michael spoke up again. “No way! Cassie, quick, add that to the Snapchat, this is so epic! Mum, you have to make friends. You’ve officially got the chance to be cool.”
“Have I now?” said Camila, shaking her head as she questioned why she’d been the only person with any doubt in her mind. Julie had jumped on the Harriet bandwagon as had all of the kids and it sounded like most of Snapchat had too. “Well we’re going out tonight. You’ll be okay on your own?”
“Thank god she forgave you! Don’t screw it up, Mum.”
“Language!”
“What?”
Camila turned to Cassie. “Make sure your parents know where you are.”
“They do. They’re following the Snapchat story. My dad’s asked if Harriet can come into the boxing club and give a talk about motivation and drive. And Jacob, the head boy—”
“Your boyfriend.”
“Right, well, umm, he’s the one who suggested she comes into school.”
Camila watched her son turn and walk back to the bed. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said. “I’ll get Julie to pop in and see how you are later on.”
Michael sat down heavily, jolting the books on the duvet cover. “Ethan needs that, I don’t.”
“Either way she’ll be in and out. I’ll see you downstairs in a bit.”
Exiting the bedroom, Camila tapped on the door opposite. “Ethan, can I come in?”
Her youngest son’s arms reached out and yanked her into the room that was much tidier and not as musty smelling. “What are you doing up here?!” The hiss was disbelieving. “You can’t leave her downstairs on her own. She is still here, isn’t she? You haven’t mucked it up even more have you, Mum? You do know who she is, don’t you? This will get me huge cred at school. My selfie’s already had fifty likes.”
“I’m just checking I’m okay to go out tonight?”
“Why would I want to make it into the papers?”
“She’s a star! You could be a star too!”
“Thanks a lot.” Camila tutted. “I remember when you used to call me the brightest star in the sky? Remember? I used to call you my little twinkle star and you used to say—”
“Yeah alright, Mum, out you go.”
Camila stepped back as her son forcibly removed her from the room. She turned to look at both doors that were now closed. “Right,” she nodded, “I’ll jump on that bandwagon as well.”
Chapter Fifteen
Camila wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at the way Harriet was driving her car. Harriet had declared it the second point on her new bucket list: drive a car that has traditional gears, something she claimed she’d not done since passing her driving test fifteen years ago. Camila chose to laugh. She couldn’t help it. She’d been laughing from the moment she’d re-entered the kitchen on Harriet’s call that “dinner was served.” First of all, no one in their house called it dinner; it was tea. Teatime. Dinner gave the illusion it would be a posh meal and if Camila was honest, Harriet’s concoction wouldn’t even pass for an on-the-run, cobbled-together, end-of-the-week, eat-up-what’s-left tea, of which she and her boys had eaten plenty. It was more of a – I’ve forgotten how old the children are and I’ve also forgotten the vegetables type tea. There had been three plates showcasing three identical food-faces. Four fish fingers made up the spiky hair, two faggots were the eyes, there was a sliced faggot for the nose and a Findus crispy pancake for a smiling mouth. Camila had burst out laughing when she’d walked in, quickly hoping that Harriet’s responding look of hurt wasn’t genuine. Either way the boys and Cassie had buoyed the atmosphere, reacting to the meal with cheers of excitement and more selfie snapping, leaving Camila to question whether in fact she’d become the mother who cooked boring teas.
“What are you are laughing at?” asked Harriet.
“Keep your eyes on the road! There’s another speed bump!”
“I’m so high up I can’t see them. It’s like I’m driving a minibus.”