The Way You Smile

by Kiki Archer

  “A minibus that has gears, remember.”

  “I’m used to pulling a paddle. This thing’s an actual wooden stick. I haven’t had a car with a clutch for so long.” Harriet dropped down a gear with a crunch. “There she goes.”

  Camila laughed again. “I don’t know why I’m laughing, this isn’t funny. I can’t afford a new gearstick.”

  “Gearbox?”

  “I don’t know, just whatever you’re destroying with your driving. And watch that bump! The suspension!” Camila held on to the corners of her seat. “Seriously, Harriet, I can’t afford a new car.”

  “I’m trying! I’m not doing it deliberately, just like I didn’t deliberately put so many of those faggoty things on their plates. Well I did because I needed two eyes and a nose, but I didn’t know there was a two faggot rule or that there was minced beef inside those Findus crispy pancakes as well making the whole thing rather meat heavy.”

  Camila laughed again but in reality none of this was funny; she still wasn’t sure whether Harriet was taking her for a fool. Here she was driving her old Citroen Picasso whilst wearing a velour tracksuit from Tesco. Camila decided to address it. “I just said faggots are one meal, as are fish fingers and Findus crispy pancakes. You used three night’s worth of meals in one sitting.”

  “I thought it was fun.”

  “It was, and this is, as long as you’re not taking the Mickey. My shopping bills are expensive enough as it is and there were vegetables that needed eating today.”

  “Kids don’t like vegetables! They like faggot faces!”

  “Stop it,” laughed Camila. “I’m being serious.”

  “So am I! Didn’t you see how they wolfed down those balls of meat. I’m adding that to my bucket list. Number eleven: eat a faggot-based meal. I bet you can put them in the slow cooker and make a faggot casserole. And the aroma coming from those minced beef and onion pancakes, well.”

  “You’re treading a fine line, Harriet.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This chat. And look at you! You’re dressed in my Tesco tracksuit.”

  “It’s velour. It could be mistaken for Juicy Couture.”

  “But why are you wearing it?”

  “Because you came downstairs in that lovely shirt and jeans and asked if it was too formal for skydiving, to which I asked what else you had and you replied: a Tesco tracksuit or some leggings which you felt would be too informal for Thai Rainbow, but which I then added onto my bucket list: Wear some supermarket clothing.”

  “But that’s taking the Mickey out of me!”

  “It’s not! It’s doing things I’ve never done before and I think I look good!”

  Camila studied the driver of the car. Harriet did look good; she looked fantastic in fact. She’d kept her statement gold necklace on and her high heels, transforming the £7 outfit into something a pop star might wear at an RnB award show and pairing that with her wonder woman hair and made up face she looked red carpet ready. “You said we needed lace-up shoes for skydiving.”

  “I can borrow yours. We go in separately.”

  “Are we the same size?”

  Harriet nodded. “I checked your shoes in the hall. That means you can borrow my red stilettos too.”

  “The ones you’re wearing tomorrow?”

  “Oooh, do I notice a cheeky tone in your voice? Right. I never need to be dared twice.”

  Camila continued. “Let me guess, swapping shoes with another woman is on your bucket list too?”

  Harriet’s face screwed up in mock disbelief. “Of course I’ve swapped shoes with another woman before!”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “It’s a lesbian must! Morph into the person you’re dating with immediate effect. Share outfits, share shoes—”

  “Share beds.”

  “Ha! Where did that come from?”

  “So let’s get this straight—”

  “Another good one.” Harriet was laughing.

  “You’ve already achieved three of the things on your new bucket list. Your bucket list that’s about half an hour old. Cook, car, clothes.”

  “Correct. And your list’s about to get started as well.” Harriet nodded. “Because the valet parking’s just here. Eating Thai food, we’re a-go.”

  ****

  Camila was cringing. How ridiculous that they’d asked a valet to park their car. Their Citroen Picasso with its wooden gearstick. And he’d definitely given them a look. It wasn’t quite a sneer, more of a smirk. She turned back and watched her car being driven away.

  “I’m telling you he didn’t give us a look,” said Harriet, reaching out for Camila’s arm, guiding them towards the arched entrance that was glittering with fairy lights. “I can see you’re still stewing.”

  “I’m not.”

  “What are you thinking about then?”

  “We could have used the normal car park.”

  “The valet’s easier. We’re right here at the entrance.”

  “It’s more expensive.”

  Harriet halted their walk. “And now you’re taking the Mickey out of me.”

  “Of course I’m not!”

  “Exactly. You do things one way, I do things another and neither of us are used to each other’s way of doing things. When you’re with me I’ll get the bill.”

  “What and when you’re with me you get to wear crap clothes? It hardly feels like a fair exchange.”

  “You think I look crap?”

  “No, you look great! Incredible in fact.”

  “Exactly and I’d have never known about the wonders of supermarket clothing if it wasn’t for you.”

  “You’re teasing me.”

  “I’m not!”

  “But you’re not going to start wearing £7 tracksuits now are you?”

  “And you’re not going to start using the valet parking. Look, we can go back if you want to. We don’t have to do any of this, I just thought it would be fun.”

  “It is.”

  “So stop over-analysing everything!” Harriet yanked on the arm and re-started their walk under the archway and through to the posh shopping destination’s concourse. “Life’s short, you should live it.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to do.”

  “So say yes in the future, say yes to everything.”

  Camila raised her eyebrows. “Everything?”

  “Oooh, you’ve got a naughty streak in you, madame.”

  “Are bosses allowed to call employees madame?”

  “I didn’t put that much tone on it! And it’s not like I’m directly your boss. Fine, I’ll stop that as well if you like.”

  Camila smiled. “No. I think I can handle your flirting.”

  “My flirting?”

  “Yes. You’re the gay woman.”

  “Who doesn’t fancy every woman I see.”

  “Oh.”

  “See! It’s you!”

  Camila laughed. “You’re right, this is fun. Come on, Thai Rainbow’s this way.”

  “Hmm, you know the way? I think you’re much more in-tune than you’re letting on.”

  “Laaaaaa!” Camila sang the pitch perfect note with gusto before smiling at her partner in crime. “I’m in tune. Did you get it? Tell me you got it?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Taking in the opulence of their surroundings, Camila squeezed the arm that was linked into her own. She could see Thai Rainbow tucked away in the corner of the concourse next to a pillared walkway that led on to one of the posh hotels. It could be suggested that opulence wasn’t the right word to describe what was essentially a shopping centre, but when the shops consisted of jewellers with big glittering displays in their windows and fashion boutiques whose frontages looked like the gateway to Paris or Milan, you’d be forgiven for buying into the promotional spiel that the ‘lifestyle destination’ was indeed an ‘oasis of luxury.’

  Camila squeezed again. She was excited, excited to be with her partner in crime. She paused her thought; why
was that phrase jumping to the forefront of her mind? Yes, opulence was there to describe their location, possibly because it was a buzz word she’d heard associated with the place… but her and Harriet? Partners in crime? Where had that come from? She smiled. It had come from her stomach. The butterflies. The excitement. The feeling that she was sixteen all over again, off on some illicit adventure. She laughed. How sad must her life be if a trip to a restaurant could be such a thrill?

  “What’s funny?” asked Harriet.

  “Excitement levels are high.”

  “Really? Oh, Camila, you are incredibly sweet.”

  “I think I’m a bit of a dork. I can’t stop smiling.”

  “It’s the company.”

  “You might be right.” Camila couldn’t help it. Yes, she should probably play it cool with Harriet: one because she was her boss, two because Harriet was a gay woman and as much as she said that didn’t matter, it would be wise not to give her the wrong impression, and three because they’d only just met; but there was something about their connection that made her want to be open and honest. She was enjoying herself. She was excited. She was feeling like a teenager all over again. “Are you sure I look smart enough?”

  “I’m the one wearing the tracksuit.”

  “I think that tracksuit’s wearing you. That’s what they say about couture clothing, isn’t it? The clothing wears you?”

  “If I’m honest, it’s started to get a bit static.”

  Camila laughed.

  “No, I’m serious, look. It’s sticking to me. Like suction wrapping.”

  Glancing down, Camila couldn’t help but notice the outline of Harriet’s strong thighs as she walked. She was about to comment when her eyes were drawn to the outline of Harriet’s intimate area.

  “Stop looking! I can feel it getting sucked right in there!”

  Glancing away, Camila tried not to blush.

  “And these shoes are making me trot like a camel too!”

  Camila kept her eyes forward. “Do camel’s trot? They have toes don’t they? I don’t think toes trot.”

  “Very funny.” Harriet yanked the clinging velour fabric from between her legs, aerating it with a couple of puffs before letting it go. “Dammit! It’s just pinged right back in there!”

  “Can I help?”

  “Yes, Camila, pick it out and pull me along like it’s a lead.”

  “Really?”

  “No!” Harriet paused. “Do you have any hairspray? It stops the static.”

  “There’s a Boots back there.”

  “Perfect.” Harriet spun them around before quickening their pace. “We’ll just use a tester can.”

  “Hairspray doesn’t come in tester cans.”

  “Everything does! Can’t you remember going into Boots before school and putting on a whole face of makeup for free?”

  “No!”

  “You really haven’t lived, have you?”

  “It appears not.”

  “Come on then, you could do with a bit more blusher if I’m honest.”

  “Won’t people recognise you?”

  Harriet halted their walk and lifted her arms to their surroundings. “There’s no one here.”

  “Well there is.” Camila signalled to the few lazy shoppers moving in and out of the boutiques and nodded at the couple who were laughingly pulling their suitcases towards the hotel’s walkway. Admittedly everyone’s pace was leisurely, a far cry from the frantic march you’d see at most shopping centres, as if the people who could afford to come here didn’t have a care in the world.

  Harriet continued. “I’m like Deborah Meaden from Dragon’s Den. I’m not cool enough to be stopped in the street.”

  “You’re far from Deborah Meaden-like. My kids couldn’t take enough snaps of you!”

  “Because I was there. They wouldn’t chase me down if they saw me here.”

  “They’ve never been here.”

  “Okay, here’s an example. I go and give a talk in a school and they all want pictures. The same kids then see me in the street and ignore me.”

  “Because they’ve already got the pictures.”

  “No. I’m not a pop star or an actress. People are only interested in pop stars and actresses.”

  “You’re a reality star.”

  “Ouch!”

  Camila nudged Harriet’s arm. “Because you’re such a great business woman.” She nodded towards the blue and white sign of the pharmacy. “Come on. And I didn’t mean the cheap and tacky reality shows, but you’re on TV and you’re known for being on TV.”

  “Because I’m a business woman.”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” Harriet shrugged. “People do recognise me sometimes and they do come up and chat but it’s not something that stops me doing what I want. Plus, this is Boots. No one’s ever approached me in Boots.”

  “I’d approach you in Boots.”

  “Would you?”

  “Actually no, but I might follow you a bit to see what you’re buying and then gossip about it with Julie.”

  “I’m not buying anything, I’m using the testers. Come on.”

  Following Harriet into the store, Camila smiled. This was exciting. Not simply because she was hanging out with Harriet Imogen Pearson, but because she was going on a girly outing to Boots. Yes, times had changed and her boys probably had just as many products as any daughters might have had, but the boys didn’t seem to take joy in choosing the products and they didn’t want to choose the products with their mother, or discuss them, or try them on.

  Harriet pointed. “Here we go, hairspray.”

  Camila watched as Harriet reached for the green can on the top shelf. “What are you going to do?”

  Harriet pulled back the waistband of her tracksuit bottoms and sprayed.

  “You can’t do that!”

  “I know.” Harriet shook her head. “I can’t get them back far enough. It’s just gone all over my fingers. I need to spray it on the inside front legs of the fabric.”

  “Can’t you just put the can down there?”

  “It’s huge! They’ll think I’m shoplifting. What’s that down your trousers, Miss Pearson? Oh, just a supersized can of four hundred mil Silvikrin shine and hold hairspray.”

  Camila tried not to laugh. “Can I help?”

  “Yes, pull my trousers back as far as you can.”

  “I can’t!”

  “You can. Just yank at the waistband on three. Quickly, you’ll need to get your fingers down there.”

  Camila glanced up and down the hair products aisle. The shop seemed to be empty. “With two hands?”

  “All of your fingers inside the hem, yank back and I’ll blast it.”

  Reaching out to the tracksuit bottoms, Camila pulled gently on the drawstring.

  “Just get your fingers in there! I’ll need two hands to hold onto this big boy! Ready? One, two…”

  Camila slid her fingers inside the velour fabric, making contact with the soft skin of Harriet’s stomach. She paused. Harriet was silent. “Are you going to say three?”

  “In a minute.”

  Laughing, Camila looked up at the pretty blue eyes made even more beautiful by the gold framing of the glasses. “You’re teasing me.”

  “You’re the one with your hands down my trousers.”

  “Right, I’m stopping.”

  “No! Yank back, on three. Three.”

  Camila laughed again. “I can’t.”

  “Get your fingers in there and yank!”

  “I’m laughing. You lose all your strength when you’re laughing.”

  “You’re not even trying!”

  “I am!” Pulling back on the bottoms, Camila’s laugh morphed into a high-pitched giggle at the underwear that came into view. Black fabric and see-through. Sexy, and certainly not from a supermarket. And while a giggle wasn’t the appropriate response when faced with such lingerie, she was glad she’d emitted a giggle and not a gasp.

  “Further back.”<
br />
  Camila yanked again, bringing Harriet’s strong thighs into view.

  “That’s it! Now let me spray this bad boy.”

  “EXCUSE ME, ladies!”

  Camila released her grasp pinging the trousers back into place, which in turn knocked the large can of hairspray from Harriet’s hands.

  “WHY is there a can of hairspray down your trousers?”

  Camila stared at the woman before turning slowly to see the outline of the supersize can of shine and hold hairspray where it had slid down to a resting position just above Harriet’s right knee.

  Harriet lifted her hands to her hips and adjusted her stance. “Pardon?”

  Camila watched the can slide down to the ankle.

  “There is a CAN of HAIRSPRAY down your trousers.”

  “Oh right.” Harriet bent down in an attempt to pull it out next to her high heel. “I’m terribly sorry.”

  Camila watched as Harriet struggled with the hem.

  “This tracksuit’s quite tight at the ankle, would you mind giving me a hand, Patricia.”

  “Patricia?” Camila looked to the shop assistant’s name tag. It read: Anne.

  “Yes, Patricia, would you mind giving me a hand?”

  Camila cottoned on. “Oh right. Yes. No problem… Gretel.”

  Harriet spluttered. “Gretel?”

  Crouching in front of Harriet, Camila couldn’t stop her shakes of laughter. “I like the name, Gretel,” she whispered, unsure whether Harriet could hear through her own giggles.

  “I can’t… get it… out!” Harriet was gasping.

  Camila tried to tug on the tight ankle band, but her strength was limited by the effort of suppressing her laughs.

  Harriet took hold of Camila’s hand and looked her in the eye. “You’re going to have to go in from the top, Patricia.”

  “LADIES! Please!”

  “Me?” gasped Camila.

  “Yes you, Patricia.” Harriet yanked open the waistband. Camila rose from the floor and stared at the see-through knickers once more.

  The shop assistant clapped her hands. “I know you, Gretel. I’m sure I know you from somewhere. Have you been caught shoplifting before? I never forget a face.”

  Using the slight distraction, Camila dived forwards and down, reaching into the tracksuit bottoms, trying her best to ignore that her face was rubbing against the silky lingerie and warm tummy.