Miss Wrong and Mr Right

by Robert Bryndza

  Nicky screamed. I held the phone away from my ear. ‘What?’

  ‘We’ve sold out. Nat! We’ve sold out!’

  I refreshed the ticket portal and saw that all our shows were now sold out. I screamed along with her for a moment.

  ‘That’s two hours and four minutes,’ said Nicky. ‘It must be a record, I’m gonna go and put the word out there. Let’s have a drink soon, yes?’

  When I came off the phone, I clicked through the rest of the links. I was shocked to see how much Tuppence Halfpenny featured in the articles. In several she was pictured in her pink lace dress posing on the red carpet outside the theatre. In one, Jamie was pictured at her side. They looked so good together.

  I switched off the computer, determined to be happy about Macbeth selling out.

  That Sunday feeling

  I had such cause to celebrate, but no one to celebrate with. I phoned Sharon but she was just on her way to take the kids swimming.

  ‘Come over tomorrow for Sunday lunch, you can tell me all…’ she said, then shouted, ‘Felix! Stop kicking your sister! I don’t care who started it!… Sorry Nat I have to go, see you tomorrow at one?’

  I then tried Benjamin, but his phone went to voicemail. I left a breezy gabbling message asking what he was up to, and said I hadn’t managed to give the BenjiYoga leaflet to Ryan, but I would, soon. I tried Nicky’s phone, but she was engaged for the rest of the day.

  I did my laundry, tidied the flat, threw away some dead plants – all with one ear out for my phone, but Benjamin didn’t return my call. At six I was starving. I opened a bottle of wine and ordered a load of food from the Indian takeaway menu on the fridge. When I hung up, I realised I had ordered too much, and I had a thought. Would it be crazy to invite Ryan Harrison over? He must be lonely in London. It would be good to get to know him, talk about the show. I could also give him the BenjiYoga leaflet.

  I scrolled through my emails and found the details of where he was staying for the six weeks he was in London. I noted the number for the Langham Hotel, and the name he had been booked in under, ‘Samuel Heathcliff’.

  I looked at my phone for a moment and called the front desk, asking if I could speak to Samuel Heathcliff. There was a pause.

  ‘And who is calling?’ intoned the man on reception.

  ‘I’m Natalie Love, the manager of the Raven Street Theatre, where Ry, I mean Mr Heathcliff is working.’

  ‘One moment please.’

  Classical music played, and then Ryan came on the line.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hello. I just wanted to say congratulations. All the tickets for Macbeth have sold out…’ I trilled. There was a pause.

  ‘Who is this?’

  ‘It’s Natalie… Love… Theatre manager… Raven Street?’

  ‘Oh sure, hey! Sorry,’ he said. ‘What’s up Natalie?’

  ‘Well, I thought you’re here in London…’

  There was a scratching sound as the phone was covered, and I heard muffled voices. He came back on the line.

  ‘Sorry Natalie, I’ve got a buddy visiting, we’re just about to head out…’

  ‘Of course, yes. I just phoned to say thank you for being so famous that all our tickets sold out in a morning.’

  ‘Yeah it’s far out. I’m so excited to start work on the play… Look, I’m really sorry, but we have reservations…’

  ‘Oh yes, you go. It’s Saturday night, I’m just off out too…’ I lied. He said goodbye and hung up. I cringed, went and poured another glass of wine, and checked to see what was on TV.

  I woke up early on Sunday morning. There was still no message from Benjamin, so I decided to go to his nine am yoga class.

  I got off the tube at half eight, with my yoga mat slung over my shoulder. The roads were quiet and deserted. The BenjiYoga studio is in the basement of a tall office block, a short walk from Old Street station. I went through the tiny entrance and down the steps into the reception area. It was manned by Laura. She’s worked for Benjamin for a few months now. She’s early twenties, rather bony and her head is always shaved bald and shiny with a razor. Her face, ears, and God knows what else, are covered in piercings. I’ve always wanted to ask her what happens when she has to go through airport security, but she seems the type who wouldn’t find that funny. I can’t stand her, and I don’t think she’s too fond of me either.

  There was a strong smell of incense, and some mystical sitar music was playing on the PA system. Laura sat behind the desk surfing the net on an elderly iMac. Taped to the back of the flat screen so it faced the customers was a quote:

  ‘The fragrance always remains on the hand that gives the rose,’ – Mahatma Gandhi.

  However, Laura had her hand buried in some pickled onion crisps which weren’t giving off a rose-like aroma.

  ‘Natalie,’ she said wryly. I slid a twenty pound note across the desk.

  ‘Morning Laura. Is Benjamin here?’ I asked with a forced smile. She slid a fiver back to me, her pickled onion hand covered in yellow butterfly tattoos.

  ‘Of course he is,’ she said. ‘This is BenjiYoga. It wouldn’t be BenjiYoga without Benjamin, would it?’

  I was about to have a go at her when Laura’s eyes flicked over my shoulder and she bowed her head saying, ‘Namaste.’

  Benjamin had appeared behind us wearing a black towelling dressing gown.

  ‘Hey you,’ I said.

  ‘Namaste, Natalie,’ he said raising an eyebrow.

  ‘Yes, hello, namaste,’ I said. I made a show of giving him a kiss. Benjamin cocked his head and seemed to sniff the air.

  ‘It’s Laura’s pickled onion crisps,’ I said.

  ‘No… That music, it’s wonderful. Good choice Laura,’ he said. Laura smiled and bowed her bald head. She had a blue catering plaster stuck to the top where she must have nicked herself with the razor.

  ‘Benjamin, can I talk to you for a minute?’ I said. He nodded and we went along the corridor into the large yoga studio with the mirror along one wall. Several of the hardcore regulars were unrolling mats and limbering up for the class. They bowed to Benjamin as we walked through. We carried on to a tiny room in the corner, which Benjamin uses as an office. I closed the door and he sat behind his desk.

  ‘Did you get my messages?’ I asked, taking the seat opposite.

  ‘I did…’ he said. There was a pause.

  ‘And this is the bit where you explain why you didn’t call me back,’ I said.

  ‘Natalie, you’re being very First World,’ he said.

  ‘I’m being First World? Well you’re being an arse!’

  ‘Natalie, I won’t have raised voices in a yoga environment,’ he said with an irritating calm. I took a deep breath.

  ‘I’m not raising my voice…Is this about the leaflet? Because I will give Ryan Harrison your leaflet, but I couldn’t during the launch party…’

  Benjamin stared at me.

  ‘Namaste Natalie! You gave me your word,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, and I will…’

  ‘Do I ever ask you for anything?’

  ‘Yes. You asked me for ketchup when we had chips the other night…’

  ‘I’m not in the mood for your childish silliness,’ he said. ‘I need to prepare for class. Go through.’ He waved me away with the back of his hand. I went to say something, but he’d sat back in his chair and closed his eyes.

  I got up and went through to the studio. I was furious. I hadn’t expected him to be such an idiot. I found my usual place at the front and unrolled my mat. The studio soon filled up, and by two minutes to nine we were packed in like sardines. Just before the class began, two very pretty girls, who can’t have been more than twenty, came in and put their mats right at the front. One was blonde, and one dark. They were stripping down to little string bikinis just as Benjamin came in.

  ‘Welcome ladies,’ he said his eyes lighting up. ‘I see you’re newbies, I’ll keep my eye on you both.’

  They giggled and flicked their h
air. He stood at the front and shrugged off his robe. Underneath he was wearing a tiny black thong.

  Benjamin usually wears sports gear to teach his class… And so do all his pupils. But a thong!

  I was in shock, but felt unable to say anything as the class began. I kept trying to catch his eye and give him a look, asking what the hell he was doing strutting about in a thong which clearly showed the outline of everything in front, and, when he turned to open a window with the long window pole, the little string vanishing between his bare backside!

  However, Benjamin ignored me for the whole class. Several times he went to the two girls in the skimpy bikinis and adjusted their yoga positions, placing his hand on an upper thigh.

  After the class I took a shower, fuming under the water as I listened to the two girls giggling in the changing room, saying how hot they thought the yoga teacher was… I waited until they’d left the changing room before I came out of the shower.

  When I’d changed, I found Benjamin in his office. He had his robe back on and was tapping away at his computer.

  ‘Natalie, you’re still here?’ he said. I sat down opposite.

  ‘Benjamin. What was with the thong?’ I asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The tiny posing pouch. The floss up your arse!’

  ‘What?’ he said seeming genuinely confused.

  ‘What do you mean what? You might as well have been naked!’

  ‘Natalie. In many cultures yoga is practised naked…’

  ‘But this is London. And you were kitted out like one of the guys from Magic Mike. Which is fine for strippers, but…’

  ‘The sports shorts were inhibiting my movement,’ he said.

  ‘And why didn’t you correct any of my postures?’ I asked.

  ‘Your postures were fine.’

  ‘No, they weren’t. I deliberately hunched my back during downward facing dog.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘So you weren’t even looking at me! Obviously those two girls in bikinis were more important…’

  ‘Natalie, they were new. Do you remember what it was like when you first started? I had to adjust your postures.’

  ‘Yes. And that’s how it began with us, isn’t it? And I fell for it hook line and sinker… Are you a proper yoga teacher, or is this just a pickup joint for you?’

  Benjamin sat back and regarded me.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You are a very good yoga teacher,’ I said.

  ‘I think you should go home Natalie. I don’t like your energy right now,’ he said.

  ‘I’m sorry. Look, let’s go and get a coffee. I have loads to tell you. Our tickets have…’

  ‘Natalie. I have another class.’

  ‘Do you want to come with me for lunch at Sharon’s?’ I said. He shook his head. ‘How about coming over tonight then?’ He didn’t say anything.

  ‘You’ll give me a call, yeah?’

  He nodded his head. I picked up my bag and left his office.

  On my way out Laura flashed me a horrible smile. She had big chunks of pickled onion crisps between her teeth.

  ‘Nata-lee-a,’ said Sharon’s husband Fred when he opened their front door. He is quite short and dark with scruffy hair and warm caramel-coloured eyes. He’s Italian, his grandparents came over to London after the war. He doesn’t have an accent like his father, but he still cries ‘Nata-lee-a’ whenever he sees me. I gave him a kiss on the cheek and followed him through to the kitchen. The French doors had been thrown open and a warm breeze wafted through the kitchen. Sharon was buzzing about laying the table for lunch.

  ‘Hey Nat,’ she said swooping in for a kiss on her way to the fridge. ‘You want a glass of rosé?’

  ‘More than anything else right now…’ I said.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Fred taking a chilled bottle of New Zealand rosé from her and grabbing the cork screw.

  ‘AMY! FELIX! Lunch is in ten minutes,’ yelled Sharon. From the depths of the living room I could hear the sound of a computer game being played and grunts of acknowledgement.

  ‘Benjamin not coming?’ asked Sharon.

  ‘Um, no,’ I said. I’ve given up making excuses, and Fred and Sharon don’t expect them. I noticed that the table was set for five. They’d guessed correctly he wouldn’t show.

  There was a lovely clean sounding pop as Fred opened the wine. He poured three glasses and handed one each to me and Sharon.

  ‘Cheers,’ he said and we clinked. After I’d taken a good gulp I told them about the launch party, and about seeing Jamie.

  ‘Jamie Dawson?’ asked Sharon.

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘And he’s dating Tuppence Halfpenny… She’s like the British…’

  ‘Dita Von Teese, yes,’ I finished.

  ‘God I picked a right night to get nits…’ said Sharon.

  ‘She’s pretty nice stuff that Tuppence Halfpenny. All that lace, and those suspenders,’ grinned Fred.

  ‘Steady on mister,’ said Sharon tossing a salad briskly with two long plastic spoons.

  ‘What? You can have pictures of Ryan Harrison in the pantry, and I can’t appreciate the curves of Miss Halfpenny?’ grinned Fred.

  ‘No. Is the simple answer,’ said Sharon. ‘The crushes women experience are so much more elegant and romantic. If Ryan Harrison walked in here right now, I would offer him some salad and a glass of fine wine… If Tuppence walked in right now, your eyes would go all glassy, you’d drool, and no doubt have to adjust your trousers…’

  ‘No, no. I’m class all the way,’ protested Fred. ‘The only trouser adjusting I do is for you.’ He leant in and kissed her. I looked at them, they are still so in love after all these years. Sharon gave me a grin and took the salad over to the table.

  ‘So how did Jamie look after all these years?’ she asked.

  ‘He still looks so good. He’s like a fine wine, he's aged well,’ I said.

  ‘Like Fred. He’s a vintage,’ laughed Sharon rubbing the balding patch in Fred’s dark hair.

  ‘Hey! She was lucky to marry me, wasn’t she?’ he smiled. I grinned and nodded.

  ‘Do you ever wish you’d married Jamie?’ asked Sharon.

  ‘God no! No… No, no, no, no, no…’ I said. I took a gulp of wine. There was an awkward pause.

  ‘Okay, I think we’re ready to eat,’ said Sharon.

  I loved going for lunch at Sharon’s, but today I felt out of sorts. All the talk of Jamie and what might have been made me see their happy family in a different light. They were such a tight, loving little unit. They never make me feel out of place, but today I did.

  After we’d eaten the first course of cold meats, cheese and salad, I excused myself and went upstairs to the bathroom. I turned on the taps and tried Benjamin on my mobile, to my surprise he answered.

  ‘Benjamin hi,’ I said cupping my hand around the phone.

  ‘Are you by the sea?’ he asked. I turned off the taps.

  ‘No. I’m at Sharon’s. In the bathroom.’

  ‘Are you on the toilet? Because Natalie, that’s just disrespectful.’

  ‘I’m not on the toilet. I’m sitting on the edge of the bath, running the taps,’ I regretted saying this because it hinted that I had somehow hidden myself away to phone him. ‘I called to see what you’re doing later?’ I added.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said.

  ‘Great. So do you want to come round? We can order some sushi, and we can put on a film you like. I’ve got Ghandi on DVD…’

  ‘No, I’m planning on doing nothing. I need to think. Meditate.’

  ‘About what?’ I said hopefully.

  ‘Natalie, what is this Western obsession with doing things and filling up your time with tasks?’

  ‘But you said…’

  ‘Natalie, I’m a free spirit, you knew this when you entered into a relationship with me…’

  ‘I was going to ask you tonight, but because you’re busy doing nothing, I have to ask you now. How would you like to c
ome to my sister Micky’s christening?’ I asked.

  ‘I thought your sister was in her late twenties?’

  ‘It’s her son Dexter’s christening,’ I clarified.

  There was a pause.

  ‘Natalie, you know I despise organised religion.’

  ‘There’s nothing really religious about it, it’ll just be a load of middle-class people showing off their children.’

  ‘Fine,’ he said.

  ‘Fine what?’

  ‘I’ll come to the christening.’

  ‘Really?’ I said, shocked.

  ‘Of course, Natalie. We’re in an adult relationship. This is what adults do.’

  ‘Well that’s fab, thank you, I mean that’s great. And if you want to do some adult stuff, I can come over after all… Before you do nothing, we could do somethi…’

  ‘Natalie, please give me some space. Namaste.’ And then he hung up.

  I turned off the taps. I quickly wrote a triumphant text message to my mother:

  I WILL BE COMING TO THE CHRISTENING WITH BENJAMIN

  CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU ALL & FOR U TO MEET HIM :) NAT x

  P.S FORGOT TO ASK ABOUT TRIFLE. WILL FIND OUT.

  I heard Sharon from downstairs asking one of the kids to come and get me for dessert. I washed my hands and came out of the bathroom. Amy and Felix leapt back from where they had been listening outside the door.

  ‘Hello, what are you two up to?’ I asked. Amy threw her arms around my waist and gave me a huge hug.

  ‘WE love you Aunt Nat… don’t we Felix?’ she said. He nodded sagely beside her.

  ‘And I love you both too,’ I said.

  ‘Benjamin doesn’t deserve you,’ Amy added. ‘We just heard you on the phone.’

  ‘He does sound like a commitment probe,’ said Felix nodding.

  ‘Not a probe Felix, Mum said commitment phobe,’ corrected Amy.