by Lise Gold
“Don’t be so negative, Sophie. He’s an eligible bachelor with a prosperous future ahead of him, not to mention his good looks. Many girls would give their right arm for a chance to date him. I don’t see why you have to be so cross with me all the time.” She gave Sophie’s outfit, especially the beanie, a disapproving glance but didn’t comment on it. Sophie wore trainers, tights, a leather miniskirt and an oversized black cable-knit sweater. She had stopped dressing to her mother’s tastes a long time ago. She took off her beanie and shook her hair back into place before suddenly realizing that her mother hadn’t seen her new haircut yet. A gasp escaped her mother’s mouth.
“Sophie, what have you done to yourself?” Eleanor whispered, an expression of horror creeping across her face. Sophie laughed. Her mother looked at her as if she’d just grown a mustache.
“Chill out mother, it’s only hair. It’s not like I got a tattoo on my face.” Eleanor clearly didn’t find it funny. She took a step forward and reached out to touch Sophie’s hair. She studied the front and the back, examining the length that was still left of it.
“Don’t worry my love, we can fix this. I’ll schedule you in for some extensions. Would you like that? There must be someone who can help you. Oh dear. What were you thinking?”
“No Mum, it doesn’t need fixing. I like my hair like this. Just leave it.” Sophie sighed. She still wasn’t sure if her new haircut had been a form of rebellion against her mother or if she had done it because she wanted a change, but it no longer mattered. It was too late to do anything about it now. Eleanor shook her head again, then looked at the door leading into the living room.
“Well, I suppose now is not the right time to talk about it. We have guests waiting so hurry up. I’m serving the starter in twenty minutes but we’re having a Bellini first.” Sophie rolled her eyes and followed her mother into the dining room where she was greeted by her parents pushy friends and their evil son, who regarded her through his beady little eyes. Deborah threw herself onto Sophie and squeezed her shoulders and arms as if she were checking for defects.
“Look at you, all trendy with your short hair. How is everything in the wonderful world of fashion?” Sophie tried to answer but Deborah talked over her immediately. “You remember Aldo, right? You two used to get along like a house on fire when you were kids. Aldo is working as an investor now. He’s doing really well for himself.” She winked at Sophie, who nodded politely at Aldo and Mark.
“How are you?” she said. Then she turned to her father. “Hi Dad.” Her father smiled at her from behind his cigar.
“Glad you’re here, Sophie. Unfortunately your brother couldn’t make it today. He had to go to the office. Some kind of emergency with a client.” Sophie grinned. Or an emergency hangover, she thought. She reluctantly took a seat next to Aldo, which they had kept free for the special occasion. This was going to be awkward. She braced herself for an afternoon of polite conversation in front of two mothers who were desperately trying to detect any sparks flying around. Aldo turned to her with a smug look on his face.
“Well, well. You look exquisite as always. How’s life treating you, Sophie?” Sophie forced a smile and took a large gulp of her cocktail.
“Great, thanks. Nothing new really, just working hard as usual. Last time we spoke was a couple of months ago, right? At the opening of that new club in Mayfair?” If Aldo was uncomfortable, he didn’t let it show. That night, Sophie had walked into an entertaining situation where a girl had just thrown a drink in his face right in front of the bar. Aldo had stormed out, embarrassed by his friends’ laughter and mocking comments.
“Yes that’s right,” he said. “Great place. I’ve been back two or three times but I try to get my well-deserved rest on the weekends nowadays. I’m travelling a lot for work and as comfortable as the standards of flights and hotel rooms are, it can be quite tiring.” Deborah beamed proudly, as if her son had just invented a whole new sort of wheel.
“Always business class and five star, our Aldo. New York, Moscow, Monaco, you name it. Actually, he’s leaving for Hong Kong next week.” Sophie’s stomach dropped. Could this get any worse? She tried to meet her mother’s eyes, begging her to keep quiet, but it was too late. Eleanor was already clapping her hands in excitement.
“I can’t believe the coincidence!” she shrieked. “Sophie is going there next week too, aren’t you Sophie? You two could meet up for dinner on the other side of the world. How cosmopolitan are our kids, Deborah?” Deborah threw her hands in the air in sheer delight and smiled broadly, looking from her mother to them and back.
“Perfect,” she said. “Show Sophie what a gentleman you are and take her out to a nice restaurant, will you Aldo?” Aldo nodded and looked just as pleased as his mother.
“Certainly mother,” he said. “How about Friday night, Sophie? Will you still be around?” Sophie’s mind was doing overtime, looking for excuses to turn down the offer.
“Actually,” she stammered, “I’m meeting my new colleague at the airport. She’s travelling with me and I don’t want to leave her on her own. I’m so sorry. I would love to but it’s her first trip and it wouldn’t be decent.”
“No problem,” Aldo insisted. “Bring her along. The more the merrier. I’ll bring a friend too. Dinner on me for everyone. How about that?” Sophie leaned back and sighed. She had lost the battle and there was nothing more she could do.
“That would be…great, thank you.” Sophie was furious. They were a cunning pair, her mother and Deborah. There was no doubt they had planned this together during their weekly shopping trip. She dragged herself through lunch, trying to help her mother in the kitchen as much as possible so she wouldn’t fall victim to the predatory creep next to her. She wasn’t sure if her mother’s permanent grin was the result of her extensive surgery or the tiny spark of hope that her daughter would finally start dating a respectable man.
“I’m really pleased you two are getting along,” Eleanor said when Sophie was helping her carve the lamb. “You’re not getting any younger, you know? Now is the right time to make decisions about your future. You’re still fertile but who knows in a couple of years?” Sophie shook her head.
“I’m twenty-nine, Mum. That’s really young. I’ve known him for seventeen years and I still don’t like him. Having babies with him is the last thing on my mind, okay? You really need to stop interfering with my life.” Her mother ignored her protest.
“Just give him a chance,” she said. “You never know how you’ll be feeling about the situation in two weeks’ time. Now be a darling and bring the vegetables out, will you? They’re getting cold.”
5
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay, Mum?” Mel Johnson shifted another pillow behind her mother’s back on the couch in her living room. Isabella was wrapped up in a blanket, reading a book. Next to her was a large mug of hot chocolate, topped off with a dollop of whipped cream. Her long gray hair was braided and secured at the back of her head as it had been for as long as Mel could remember. She looked up at Mel and smiled.
“Stop worrying about me, Melzinha. Go and enjoy your new job. Be the best like you always are. I’m so proud of you. You know that, don’t you?” Mel kissed her mother on the forehead.
“I know, Mum. You tell me that every day. But your back is so bad at the moment, and I won’t be around to take care of you next week. I wish you would let me hire some help while I’m away.” Isabella shook her head and pointed at Mel’s suitcase.
“Just go, Melzinha. How many times do I have to tell you that it’s a waste of money? I can still walk and cook.” She held up the Kindle in her hand. “While you’re away, I’m going to rest and read and look for a leveled apartment, so you won’t have to put up with me for much longer.” Mel sighed.
“You don’t have to look for a new place. You’re not a burden. I like to take care of you, and I like having you around.” She walked into the kitchen and came back with her mother’s mobile. “Here. Keep this with you at
all times, just in case something happens. I don’t want you to fall and not be able to call for help.” Her mother reluctantly took the device and placed it on the coffee table next to her. “Promise to call me every day, okay? I want to know that you’re alright. And don’t even think about going for a walk or driving if you’re having a bad day.” Isabella laughed, exposing the wrinkles around her eyes.
“Trust me; you don’t want your nosey old mother around when you finally decide to bring a girl home. And speaking of girls, isn’t it about time you met someone you’re serious about? I don’t want you to be alone for the rest of your life.”
“I’m not looking for a girlfriend, Mum. I have my new job to focus on now, so I’m not even going to think about dating until I get through my first three months.”
“I know.” Isabella sighed. “I just want you to be happy. You’re beautiful and special, and you have so much to give, Melzinha.” She raised an eyebrow. “And I don’t want to be waiting around for grandchildren forever. I had three children by the time I was your age.” Mel gave her mother a playful push.
“Stop the girlfriend and the baby talk. I like my life the way it is. Besides, I never said I wanted to start a family. Those were your words, and I’ve been hearing them a little too often lately. Go pester Don and Erik instead-- at least they’re settled.”
Isabella giggled. “Okay. Fine, fine.” She studied Mel’s hair. “Shake that out before you leave, it looks flat.”
6
It was busy at Heathrow airport, but then weekends were always busy. Sophie made her way through the crowd, looking for the business class check in. There was a queue there too. She had thought of coming early and checking in so she could hide in a bar somewhere. She liked the idea of having a bit of time to herself before spending the rest of the week with someone she barely knew. But then that wouldn’t be a nice thing to do, and her parents hadn't raised her like that. Sophie looked around for a girl with long, dark, wavy hair, as described by her manager. She couldn’t even remember her surname. Was it Mel Johnson? Johnston? She had her work number just in case. Maggie’s old work number. A rather nervous looking woman was waiting in line for check-in. Her dark hair was curly but only shoulder length. She was scanning the area as if she were looking for someone. Sophie walked up to her and tapped her on the back.
“Hi, excuse me, are you Mel by any chance?” She asked. The woman turned around and looked at her in confusion.
“Me?” She put her hand on her chest. “No, I' m not. Sorry.” Before Sophie could apologize, she heard a husky voice coming from behind her, followed by a slap on her shoulder.
“That would be me.” Sophie turned around, startled. There she was. The new designer. The girl who could never replace Maggie, even though she just had. Sophie felt her jaw drop when their eyes met, and she tried to hide her surprise with a polite smile. Mel was beautiful. She had thick dark brown curls, draped over her shoulders, and her eyes were a striking pale green. She smiled, showing off a neat row of perfect white teeth. Sophie couldn't work out her heritage. South-American maybe? The caramel skin and full lips gave her a sensual attitude, but her dimples were cute and made her look younger than her twenty-eight years. Sophie swallowed hard.
“Hi, I'm Sophie. Pleased to meet you, Mel.”
“Likewise.” Mel shook her hand firmly, and they walked up to the check-in desk together.
“Would you like adjoining seats?” The ground stewardess asked. Sophie hesitated, frustrated with the straight-forwardness of the question she knew to be perfectly normal. She liked to be alone on flights unless she was with Maggie.
“Yes please,” Mel answered before Sophie had the chance to say anything. “A two-seater would be great if you have one available.” She turned to Sophie with a beaming smile. “Perfect. You can brief me on the coming week and tell me anything I need to know before I start.” Then she laughed. “And I don’t snore, or at least not that I know of.”
“So have you been to Hong Kong before?” Sophie asked after they had settled down in their seats. She took her shoes off and put them in the compartment in front of her. Then she removed the blanket from the packaging, wrapped it around her, and stretched her legs out on the footstool while downing the glass of champagne that had been waiting on the side table next to her. It was always better to get comfortable straight away. Sophie had traveled a lot over the years as a designer and had developed a set of predictable habits, which she refused to steer away from.
“No, I’ve never been there,” Mel said. “I'm excited actually. Going somewhere new is nice. I've always worked with Italian factories, and in my last role, I used to go to India a lot. This trip couldn’t have come at a better time. It’s a great way to start a new job, getting right to the source of everything. I can’t wait to get to the office and meet everyone. It’s so much easier when you can put a face to the person you’re speaking with over the phone, don’t you think?” She focused on removing her own shoes, not waiting for an answer. “Do you know Hong Kong well?” Sophie nodded.
“Yeah, I do. I’ve been going there for seven years now, and I’ve also spent four months in Hong Kong and China a couple of years back when we were setting up our new factory. It’s one of my favorite cities” Mel nudged her.
“Great. You can show me around after work. I bet you know all the cool places and the best restaurants.”
“Sure. I’ll be your guide for the week.” Sophie tried to sound enthusiastic, but her voice fell flat. “Just don’t expect too much, I get jet-lagged and might be wiped out by nine o’clock.” She really wanted to go to sleep so she wouldn’t have to socialize but it seemed rude to do so. She mentally scrolled through the list she had memorized in the taxi in case they wouldn’t have anything to talk about, but all she could come up with was a lame statement, lifted from the front of Mel’s CV.
“So you’ve been a designer for five years?”
“Yes, I have. Five years next month. I know I’m not as experienced as my predecessor but I promise you I can do this. Debbie believes I can. I’m sure she’s discussed my CV with you?” Sophie frowned.
“She did discuss it with me, but she’d already made up her mind about you, so it’s not like I had a lot of say in the decision.” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry. That came out wrong and totally sounded like I don’t want you here…” Mel raised both her hands to stop her from saying more.
“It’s okay. Really, it is. You must be worried that I’m not experienced enough or good enough for this job, that I might be a burden to you, or that you’ll have to mentor me for months until I can function on my own.” She shot Sophie a challenging look. “I understand. And that’s fine because I’m going to prove you wrong. I'm good at what I do. Now let's be friends, shall we?” She put her hand on Sophie's, which was resting in her lap. Sophie was taken aback by her mature approach and regarded her with a mixture of regret and curiosity.
Shit! Now she's the bigger person. That's just wrong. It's all so wrong. This wasn't the way she had planned their first meeting to go. She felt a hint of shame and tried to hide it with a smile.
“I'm sorry,” she said. “You're right. Maybe I was judging you and I shouldn't. Let's get to know each other and try to have fun.” She looked down at the hand, still resting on her own. This girl was unusually tactile in her ways. Mel pulled her hand back to accept the glass of wine the flight attendant brought over.
“I ordered you one as well while you were in the toilet. Hope you don't mind.” She winked. “I'll drink them both if you don't.” Sophie shook her head and took the glass.
“Thanks. I could really do with another drink. Cheers.” Mel stretched out her legs and got more comfortable in her seat.
“My kind of girl,” she said. “So tell me about yourself. Where do you live? Are you married? Do you have kids? How’s the job?”
“You’ve got a lot of questions.” Sophie shrugged and took a sip of her wine. “But there’s not much to tell, I’m afraid. I've bee
n a designer for seven years, and I've worked mostly with Chinese factories but some in Turkey too. This is my third job, and I’ve always done knitwear. I’m not necessarily passionate about knitwear; it just turned out that way. I'm twenty-nine, single, no kids. I live in London, South Kensington. I studied product design... That's it.” She laughed, surprising herself. “God, I sound boring.” Mel laughed too.
“I doubt that you're boring.” She looked at Sophie intently. “You're very pretty, did you know that?” Sophie blushed and shifted in her seat. It happened every time she received a compliment. Was Mel trying to flatter her into a friendship? She looked ahead and smiled awkwardly, avoiding her beautiful neighbor’s gaze.
“I’m not sure I agree with that today.” She ran a hand through her hair. It still felt like a wig. “But thank you, I guess.” She turned her attention back to Mel. “You're very pretty yourself, Mel. But I’m sure you hear that all the time.” Sophie meant it. Mel’s eyes were amazing. The way the green of her iris radiated and became lighter at the edge made her seem almost otherworldly. “Where are you from originally?” Mel batted her eyelashes and grinned.
“Thank you. My mother is from Brazil, but I was born here in London. Not quite South Kensington though. I grew up in Brixton. I still live there, actually.” She tilted her head. “Bet you’ve never been there, huh?” Sophie shook her head, refusing to give in to Mel’s sudden provocation.
“No, I haven’t. Do you like living there?”
“Yeah I do,” Mel said. “It’s my home. It’s always been my home. My ground floor apartment is around the corner from where I grew up and next to the village market. It used to be quite rough around there, but now they’ve opened all kinds of restaurants and bars, so it’s really cool, actually. I bought it a couple of years ago. Great investment.” Sophie was impressed with the fact that Mel had managed purchase a house at such a young age. This was London after all. She didn’t dare to mention the fact that she owned her apartment too, but that her parents had paid for it.