‘Oh dear.’
‘While I’m here finishing off the final touches would you be able to run to a Costco or something?’ she says, sounding awkward as she asks.
‘Of course!’ I laugh. ‘Email me the details and I’ll head off as soon as I can.’
‘Thank you!’ she breathes, the relief audible as she hangs up.
As soon as I’m back home I quickly change out of my workout gear and into jeans and a jumper. Normally I would hate the idea of not showering after doing a class, but I barely broke a sweat. My main concern would be particles of an elderly man’s trumps sticking to my clothes, but I’ve got a job to do and not long to do it, so I dowse myself in Ghost Deep Night, grab Mum’s car keys and run out of the door. If I’m going to be laden with sweets there’s no point in bothering with the train. I just have to hope there’s no traffic and somewhere to park at the other end.
As expected, Natalia has already sent over her shopping list and where I have to go afterwards. It turns out the closest Costco to me is in Grays, but that’s a bit of a detour if I’m driving to Chelsea afterwards so I end up heading into London and going to one on the way. It all goes smoothly. Everything asked for is sourced (as well as a gallon of white wine because it was so reasonably priced), so before long I’m travelling through the posh borough of Chelsea and Kensington with the sweet smell coming from the thousands of penny sweets on the back seat giving me a sugar rush. Literally my jaw aches just from sitting so close to them.
‘You’re an absolute star!’ Natalia says, opening my boot before I’ve even had a chance to park properly so that she can pull out the two-hundred flying saucers, cola bottles, caramel bonbons, marshmallows, jelly beans, aniseed balls, banana splits, liquorice sticks, shrimps, black jacks and Catherine wheels as quickly as possible. Parking restrictions don’t appear to apply when a wealthy client needs his sweetie shop set up. I jump out and help carry the heavy bags inside, running up the front steps behind her.
Having not had time to take in my surroundings when I was pulling up I stop as soon as I’ve taken a foot inside the house. Tall ceilings automatically lead my eyes upwards, enabling me to see the vast scale of the space. A warm grey has been painted on the walls, leaving it bright but inviting. Monochrome Victorian tiles with an ornate detail have been laid on the floor, leading to a cantilevered staircase that travels from one side of the hallway and loops up and around, creating a beautiful spiral further than I can see, teasing me with how many floors this insane place might have. A slightly flecked striped runner, which gives hints of pastel pink, green, blue, red and turquoise on top of a neutral grey grounding, has been used on the stairs, with lavish African blackwood showing either side. The beading and spindles have been painted white while the handrail is a contrasting jet black, helping to really accent the swooping of the carpentry in the design. It’s the making of a Pinterest board from heaven.
‘Oh my God!’ I find myself saying, so in awe of the sight in front of me that my feet forget how to function properly. I have to shuffle them along the pristine tiles to get to the ‘sweet station’, a nook in the corridor, which is in fact bigger than any sweet shop I’ve ever been into and lined from floor to ceiling with a beautifully crafted white unit. Tall rows of chunky shelves have been topped with an elegantly tapered cornice. There’s even a flipping sliding ladder to ensure all sweets will be in reaching distance. The floor is covered with rows and rows of footed bonbon jars, which, once filled and placed on the awaiting shelves, will ensure this spot looks like something from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory – albeit with a lot more taste.
‘This is bonkers,’ I say to Natalia, who’s already ripping into the plastic bags and tipping the goodies I’ve bought into glass jars that are covering the floor.
‘I know. Everything else is done. The decorators and electrician have left,’ she says without stopping. ‘They aren’t going to be long.’
I take the memo and get on with it. Sweets to jar then on the shelf, sweets to jar then on the shelf, sweets to jar then on the shelf … The task is repeated over and over, the repetitive action becoming therapeutic as we beaver away in silence.
We both jump when Natalia’s phone starts ringing, the noise catching us by surprise. I look over and see it’s Alastair. I watch as she spots it too and sighs before switching it to silent. His call seems to have irritated her.
‘Everything OK?’ I ask, not meaning to pry but feeling my question is warranted thanks to her clear emotional shift.
She gives a little cough before getting to her feet, taking her glass jar and placing it on one of the shelves. ‘He knows it’s an important day,’ she grumbles, but not in the way that tells me he was being friendly and thoughtful by wanting to speak to her.
‘Oh? Perhaps he’s forgotten, or something’s happened,’ I say, although I’ve no idea why I’m sticking up for him. Maybe they’ve fallen out over something and he’s genuinely been a cock and deserving of her wrath.
‘It’s you,’ she says, looking at me with her arms crossed.
I stare back. The word ‘cock-blocker’ appears in my mind in big, bold, black letters. I blink it away.
‘He knows you’re with me,’ she adds.
I shrug in response, picking up the glass jar I’ve just filled with jellied rings and passing it to her. She takes it and pops it next to the one of chocolate mice she’s just arranged, speedily moving on to the next jar to fill.
‘He keeps badgering me for your number,’ she says, ripping into a packet of flying saucers and tipping them in. The sound of them landing against the glass fills the silence that’s fallen between us.
We continue with our task, keeping our heads down as we do so. My mind isn’t on the fact that her fit mate wants to get in touch with me, but rather her reaction to it. I don’t like the murky feeling it creates between us, but seeing as I’ve done nothing wrong I’m not sure what to do. She’s the one who keeps bringing the situation up though, so maybe it’s something that needs to be addressed. He’s her best mate so won’t be going anywhere, and I’m going to be working for her in a few months.
‘Do you want me to give it to him?’ she eventually asks as we continue to sort through the bags, the distraction helping make the awkward conversation less intense.
‘Do you want me to want you to give it to him?’ I ask, looking up at her just in time to catch a frown line appear. She definitely didn’t want me to that night, and the fact he didn’t ask for it regardless was probably a blessing in disguise. I was disgruntled about it at first, but a couple of weeks have passed and I’m over it. I don’t see the point of him having my number now when I’m off next week.
‘He likes you,’ she says matter-of-factly.
‘I’m sure he likes a lot of girls,’ I retort.
‘He’s not that bad,’ she says, the wobble in her voice suggesting she doesn’t fully believe her own statement.
‘You weren’t saying that the other night,’ I remind her, another reason why I’m so confused by the whole thing. She was actively against us hooking up from the start, then she relaxed when she realized it was never going to be anything more than fun. This was followed up by her not leaving us alone to have said ‘fun’, and then telling me that he likes me and wants to get in touch with me, while clearly being hacked off about it. I’m not entirely sure what to make of her conflicting actions.
The other part of the confuddlement is my own feelings towards Alastair. Yes, he’s a charming, beautiful man, but after having some serious shit fall on me from a great height not so long ago, I don’t need new dramas in my life. I’m not willing to let someone knock my confidence again when I’m still trying to claw it back. I’m not ready to have my broken heart shattered into even tinier pieces that might never be able to be pieced back together again, not even by all the King’s horse and all the King’s men. I don’t want to be left as a heap of shards alongside bloody Humpty Dumpty …
In all honesty, I’m scared. Scared of being ba
ck out there in the dating game, terrified of being exposed and horrified at the thought of being rejected. I’m just at the point of learning to accept who I am. I don’t want to fall for someone like Alastair who probably changes his mind as soon as he’s added that coveted notch.
I don’t know how to do single. It’s terrifying knowing I’m back out there and on the market, ready to be sized up and compared to the next ripening fruit next to me on the shelf. I’m not ready and the thought is deeply upsetting, because I don’t know when I will be. But then I think of New Year’s Eve and how the encounter with Alastair made me feel, and how I’ve replayed it in my mind since. I feel deeply deflated at the thought of that being it, of not experiencing any more of him.
Yet, the idea that we meet people at certain points in our lives for a reason has been playing on my mind. Perhaps Alastair was meant to help me out of the fog and ignite that spark of fun within me without it being made into anything else? Maybe placing too much of anything more serious on to it would be a huge mistake anyway. Or maybe, just maybe, I shouldn’t allow memories of him to be clouding my thoughts when I have great things to look forward to.
‘He’s a complete swine when he wants to be, that’s completely true,’ Natalia confirms, while wrestling with the lid of a tub of multi-coloured sweets. ‘That’s why he’s so infuriating. He’ll make a terrific boyfriend when he finds the person that has him hooked. I know it.’
‘I’m really not looking for a boyfriend,’ I remind her.
‘Husband?’
‘No!’ I say, even more confused by her. ‘And that’s a terrible sell.’
‘He likes you.’
‘You must hate that,’ I say, gathering up the empty bags and clearing the floor before glancing at my watch. We really don’t have long until the owners arrive.
‘Why’d you say that?’ she asks, sounding genuinely intrigued.
I turn and raise an eyebrow at her. She can’t think I’m that dumb not to notice something is going on.
‘OK,’ she says, holding her arms in the air, as if to confess. ‘I’d rather he didn’t have a crush on someone I plan to have a long and healthy working relationship with.’
‘And also because you have a thing for him?’ I ask, knowing I’m pushing my luck but wanting to just get it out there. If the two of them are meant to be together then I’d rather she realized that and got on with making it a reality while I was away travelling. At least that would mean I could come back and avoid more of this nonsense.
‘I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t something I’ve thought about over the years.’
‘Oh shit,’ I say, surprised by the feeling of disappointment her words stir. Part of me clearly didn’t believe my suspicions.
‘But only because all our other mates are in places that we aren’t,’ she says quickly, her face turning red. ‘I think I’ve mentioned it before. It’s a hard thing to get your head around when people you’ve known your whole adult life start growing up and leaving you behind.’
‘But you run your own highly successful business,’ I point out, finding her worries more than surprising seeing as I envy everything she’s built up and managed to achieve. ‘People worship you! You’re more together than anyone I know.’
‘Oh, bless you,’ she says with a sigh, checking over our sweet-shop creation now that all the jars have been filled and displayed, twisting and shifting them so that they sit perfectly in uniform. ‘I know you’re new to the single life, but it’s tough to see the people you love tackling new stages in their lives when you’re still waking up alone. Priorities change, and even though I know they’ll always love me, and would hate to know I feel this way, I have found myself sliding down their list in the pecking order. I’ve dedicated myself to my work, but it’s come at a personal price.’
‘When was your last date?’ I ask, realizing we haven’t had this chat yet.
‘I can’t even remember, it’s been that long. I don’t have time to socialize and meet people. I really don’t,’ she shrugs, stepping away from our handiwork and turning to scrutinize it once more. ‘It’s been a comfort to have Alastair by my side, but I dread the day he turns up with an actual girlfriend. A girl that he cares about. My comrade leaving me behind too would be crushing.’
‘You know, even when I was in a relationship I had those worries. Everyone was overtaking me,’ I tell her, fascinated by how similar our insecurities would have been even though we would’ve thought we were in such different situations. ‘It worried me so much I became obsessed by it. I didn’t want to be left behind and so preoccupied with what everyone else was doing. Always looking longingly outwards rather than contentedly inwards.’
‘Wow. You’ve hit the nail on the head there,’ she says, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘I don’t want Alastair to be my boyfriend. I never have. I honestly mean it when I say he’s great, but it would literally be like sleeping with my brother – and that’s too Game of Thrones for my liking. I’m no Cersei Lannister.’
‘Eeesh,’ I laugh, screwing up my face at the thought. ‘So you’ve not made a pact that you’ll get married or have a kid together if you’re still single in a few years?’
‘Absolutely not!’ she says, looking aghast. ‘Which is a shame, because those genes would be …’
We both start giggling like little girls and I’m so relieved to have this all cleared up now, rather than letting it fester into something it really isn’t.
‘Oh god. They’re going to be here in ten minutes,’ Natalia says, snapping back into professional mode. ‘I should have another run around before they do.’
‘I’ll leave you to get on with it, but it looks amazing!’ I say, gesturing to the stunning display.
‘Let’s hope they think so,’ she says, looking genuinely worried rather than fishing for compliments. ‘And thanks for your help today.’
‘Not at all. It’s great to see your work,’ I say, feeling even more excited about the prospect of coming back and getting my teeth stuck into a project like this with her. It’s funny how, for a long time, work had been something I endured and my relationship with Ian was something I hooked all my dreams and ambitions on. Now it’s entirely different. This is something I want completely for me. It’s not an event to brag about online in an attempt to display the fact that someone else clearly valued me more than I ever did myself. It feels great to have taken back control of my own life, even if it is a daunting prospect. Living with Connie, being in London and eventually moving into my own place, while working in such amazing buildings, is literally beyond any other plan I could’ve had for myself at this point. Sure, it might not feel like that when I’m downing Baileys at two in the morning and having my thoughts turn to an emotional mush – but I’m getting there!
‘I’m glad you like it,’ Natalia says, gathering her phone and notepad, her eyes scanning her way down a scribbled ‘to do’ list. ‘Certainly helps when the budgets go into the hundreds of thousands and beyond.’
‘Shut up!’ I say, picking up the rest of the rubbish and starting to walk towards the door. ‘Oh, how the other half live!’
‘Yep,’ Natalia nods, moving with me and squeezing a rogue bit of plastic into my bag of rubbish as we go. She opens the door for me and pulls me in for a hug. ‘Thanks again.’
‘I loved it. I can’t believe we didn’t even eat one!’
‘Cameras everywhere,’ she whispers.
‘No!’ I gasp, wondering if I did anything embarrassing like pick my nose or pull my knickers out of my butt (turns out they’re always hungry).
‘So, in all seriousness, should I give him your number?’ she asks, holding on to my hand.
I look at Natalia for a second or two as I mull it over.
‘No. Thanks, but I’m not ready yet,’ I say, the sadness that drifts into view making it evident I’m talking with my head and not my heart. ‘Maybe one day.’
‘He’s going to be heartbroken.’
‘I’m sure he’ll get over
it,’ I laugh. ‘Right! Good luck!’ I chime, bouncing down the stairs while feeling uplifted, empowered and in control of the direction my life is heading. It seems there’s so much to look forward to at last, and it’s that thought that leads me to skip to my car with a big grin on my face.
Before getting into the driver’s seat I whip out my phone to find a text message from Ian. I groan before opening it.
34
It feels like it’s been years since I was last here in my heartbroken, zombified state, wondering how on earth the walls around my supposedly perfect life had totally crumbled and taken all of my purpose and self-worth with it.
This time there are no memories being stirred as I stare at the front door of the flat. It’s just a door, albeit a very nice wooden one, and one that I was happy to walk through every day. But I’m not hankering for that life any more. Even though that’s the case, I’m apprehensive to go inside now, knowing that it might be the very last time I do.
We got an offer today, which was thankfully for the asking price, so no discussion was necessary. As Thursday nights are when Ian goes to spin class, I figured I should use the opportunity of him being out to head over and round up some clothes that aren’t black which might be good for travelling. I also need to dig out my old backpack and anything else that might be useful. If the sale goes through as planned then it’ll complete while I’m away and I won’t have another chance to come back. Now that I’m feeling in a better place than I was, it’s worth seeing if there’s anything else I want to take with me and box up so that it’s not chucked away like I was tempted to before. Dad has told me to put everything to one side so that he and Mum can do the boxing and lifting later on, although the thought of them running into Ian is a frightening one. God knows what they’d both say to him, but thankfully I won’t be here to find out.
I put the key in the lock and turn it. As I push it open I’m instantly hit by an incredibly familiar smell. It’s one I can’t describe other than to say, it’s of my flat. Ex-flat. I shut the door behind me, take off my shoes, ignore the sentimental key bowl on the side, and go through to the living area.
Some Kind of Wonderful Page 27