How to Break Your Own Heart

by Maggie Alderson

  Kiki and I just looked at each other and laughed.

  ‘Have you ever seen him like this before?’ I asked her.

  She shook her head. ‘It’s unbelievable,’ she said. ‘I’ve seen him in lust countless times – almost on a daily basis, actually – and he’s as predatory as a great white shark, as you know, regardless of the sexual orientation or relationship status of his prey, but this mild-mannered, love-struck loon is a whole new look. I’m practically speechless.’

  When we got outside with the tray, Hermione was sitting with the three men at her feet, looking completely at ease. I’d just poured champagne for everyone and was about to make a toast to the new vegetable garden when the phone rang. I ran inside to answer it and was a bit thrown to hear Ed’s voice.

  ‘Hello, my lovely darling,’ he said. ‘I just thought I’d ring and make sure you aren’t too lonely down there.’

  I felt quite guilty. I hadn’t thought about him all day, we were having so much fun.

  ‘Well, that’s really sweet of you, Ed,’ I said. ‘But I’m fine actually. Sonny is here doing the garden, and Kiki and Ollie have come down too, to help, so I’m not lonely at all.’

  Because I felt uncomfortable about it, I didn’t tell him Joseph was there, too, and then, as I hadn’t said it straight away when I mentioned the others, I just couldn’t find a way to slip it in casually. I was fairly sure Ed wouldn’t like him being there, and I hung up feeling very uneasy about my lie of omission.

  I stood by the phone for a moment wondering whether to do what my father would do in such a situation, which would be to ring him back immediately and tell him the whole truth, right down to the fact that I had felt uncomfortable about it, but then I heard raucous laughter coming from the garden and ran back out so I wouldn’t miss the joke.

  We had a great night. I kept the food really simple, defrosting a big tub of Bolognese sauce I had in the freezer to make two lasagnes – I reckoned Sonny would need one for himself. Everybody helped, and he turned out to be as handy in the kitchen as he was in the garden. He even made the béchamel sauce for me, with Oliver stuck to his side at every stage.

  ‘You’ve got to take the roux off the heat when you start to put the milk in,’ I heard Sonny telling him. ‘Otherwise it will go all lumpy.’

  ‘What?’ said Oliver. ‘Like your stomach?’ and he grabbed Sonny playfully around the middle, tickling him, as you would a toddler. Sonny just laughed and pushed Oliver away with a deft bump of his hips.

  Kiki and I swapped another of our pantomime looks. She gestured with her eyes towards the staircase, and we told the boys we were going upstairs to change. We got into my bedroom, closed the door and fell on the bed shrieking.

  ‘Oh my GOD,’ said Kiki. ‘I think that boy’s gay.’

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ I said. ‘I’ve been lusting after him like a tragic old Mrs Robinson, and it turns out he’s a flaming woofter all the time.’

  I put my head on to my pillow and screamed while I drummed my feet on the bed. We laughed until we had tears running down our cheeks.

  ‘How could I have missed it?’ said Kiki. ‘I’m the biggest fag hag of all time and he totally flew in under my gaydar. It never occurred to me – although, with him having that body, I should have known better. I am so embarrassed. I have never made a play for a gay man in my life before. Aaaaaaagggggh!’ It was her turn to scream into the pillow.

  ‘But Sonny’s such a sweetie, I really don’t think he would mind,’ I said. ‘I’m not even sure if he’d notice. I mean, we don’t know he’s gay, he’s just lovely to everyone. He treats Hermione like a queen…’

  We looked at each other and then whooped with laughter again.

  ‘Oh God,’ I said, trying to get my breath back. ‘Of course he does. Sweet gay men like him love old ladies. That’s probably why he’s so nice to me.’

  We laughed some more and then there was a gentle knock at the door.

  ‘Come in!’ I said, and we sat up straight on the bed, like naughty schoolgirls. It was Joseph.

  ‘Can I join you?’ he said. ‘I just went down to the kitchen and felt like I was ready to be planted in your new gooseberry patch…’

  Kiki’s hands flew up to her mouth. ‘Are they kissing?’ she asked.

  ‘Not quite,’ said Joseph. ‘But it’s all mighty cosy down there.’

  That set us off again. Joseph sat down in the armchair and regarded us with the affectionate bemusement of a man confronted with a pair of hopelessly giggling girlies. He shook his head indulgently.

  ‘Sorry, Joseph,’ I said, a little uncomfortable at having him in my bedroom but determined to get over it. ‘I know we’re behaving like thirteen-year-olds, but we had no idea Sonny was gay. We’re in shock.’

  ‘I was making a big play for him,’ said Kiki, her eyes wide with horror.

  ‘I did notice,’ said Joseph.

  ‘Oh shit,’ she said. ‘And I’ve just realized I wrecked my favourite pair of jeans for him, dammit. What a waste.

  Oh well, I’ll just have to go to Glastonbury so I can get some more wear out of them.’

  The rest of the evening continued in a similar vein, with me, Kiki and Joseph exchanging looks and nudges, as Oliver mooned shamelessly after Sonny and he appeared to play along.

  But by the end of dinner there was no sport left in it, because the two of them were clearly holding hands under the table. I wondered momentarily what to do now about sleeping arrangements but decided just to let things pan out.

  Now that it seemed Sonny and Oliver were officially an item, the rest of us got over our rather childish hysteria and the conversation became more normal. We were chatting about films we’d seen recently, with Oliver chipping in with bits of thrilling celebrity gossip he’d gleaned on recent shoots with the stars.

  ‘What kind of a hairdresser are you?’ Sonny asked him, looking puzzled.

  Kiki replied for Oliver. ‘He’s one of the top three session stylists in the world,’ she said, proudly.

  ‘But what does that mean?’ said Sonny.

  ‘Well, I do a lot of hair for fashion shoots and advertising,’ said Oliver, actually sounding quite modest, for once. ‘But I also do personal cutting and styling for quite a few big celebs.’

  ‘He did Madonna’s new do,’ said Kiki, ever the agent for her friends.

  ‘Wow,’ said Sonny. ‘ That’s amazing. I love that haircut.’

  Kiki and I swapped glances again. He definitely was gay.

  ‘That reminds me,’ said Oliver, turning to look at me intently. ‘Talking of beautiful ageing blondes – I was going to cut your hair, Amelia, wasn’t I?’

  I said nothing. I had been massively relieved when that all seemed to have been forgotten. He’d cancelled the date we’d made after Kiki’s party and, as nothing more had been said about it, I was happily hoping it had gone away.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Kiki, enthusiastically. ‘I’d forgotten about that. You’ve got your new clothes, Amelia, and you’re looking great, but your hair is still totally daggy.’

  ‘I think Amelia’s got beautiful hair,’ said Joseph, which just made things worse.

  I was seriously beginning to wish the attention would shift away from me.

  ‘She has,’ said Oliver. ‘But she’s got too much of it.’ He put his head on one side, and as he narrowed his kohl-rimmed eyes, I could tell he was seeing me as a head, not a person.

  ‘Look at this,’ said Kiki and, jumping up from her chair, she came behind me and lifted my hair until it was hanging just above my shoulders, as she had that day in Dover Street Market.

  ‘Wow,’ said Sonny, repeating what I was beginning to realize was his favourite word. ‘ That looks amazing.’

  Joseph nodded. ‘I see what you mean now,’ he said, sounding surprised. ‘I never would have imagined it, but somehow it shows your face off better, Amelia. Maybe you should have it cut.’

  I gave him a dirty look – traitor.

  ‘Got any scissors
?’ said Oliver, standing up and opening the dresser drawers. He pulled out my chunky kitchen shears and held them up. ‘Anything a bit smaller than this?’

  ‘I’ve got some nail scissors in my bag,’ said Kiki.

  ‘Hmmm,’ said Ollie. ‘Well, they might do, but they could be a bit small, and these are too big, but I might be able to do it if I use both…’

  Then, horrified that they were going to go ahead with the game shears whether I liked it or not, I weakened and confessed there were some hairdressing scissors in the bathroom. Ed used them to keep his sideburns immaculate.

  Kiki volunteered to get them – rightly guessing that I wouldn’t – and Oliver disappeared upstairs with her, saying he needed to get his comb, and Sonny went out to the loo.

  I looked over at Joseph, hoping he might be an ally, after all.

  ‘Do you really think I should do this?’ I asked him, feeling almost sick with trepidation.

  He stood up and put out a hand to me. ‘Come over here,’ he said.

  Feeling very self-conscious, I joined him in front of the large round mirror on the wall opposite the back door. Standing behind me, he lifted my hair up as Kiki had done.

  ‘See?’ he said, looking intently over my shoulder at me. I was supposed to be looking at my hair, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his gaze. Then he dropped my hair down again so it fell over my shoulders and on to my breasts.

  ‘Pretty girl,’ he said. Then he picked my hair up again. ‘Beautiful woman.’

  I looked at my reflection and then at his face in the mirror right behind me. I swallowed awkwardly as I felt his breath on my neck and realized that my nipples had gone hard where his hands had brushed them as he lifted up my hair.

  I could feel them tingling and I could see them in the mirror, clearly standing to attention through my white top. What a horrendous giveaway. Just as I realized, I caught his eye in the mirror again, and he was looking at me in the same way he had at Kiki’s party and at the hospital. I felt a blush sweep down my neck and quickly turned and sat down again at the table, folding my arms.

  I was so confused and horrified by what had just happened with Joseph I hardly noticed that the others had come back, or that Kiki had put a towel around my shoulders. Then Sonny lifted the chair, with me in it, so I was sitting in the middle of the floor, and I went into some kind of terrified trance, like a rabbit caught in headlights.

  Oliver sprayed my head with a plant mister and he was gently combing my hair when I suddenly heard a loud snip. I looked down and saw a piece of hair about two feet long on the kitchen floor. As I looked down, it was joined by several more.

  That snapped me back to consciousness. My hand flew up to my head and I found that my hair now stopped not far below my jaw.

  ‘Too late now,’ said Kiki, smiling brightly, ‘so relax.

  You’ve got one of the best hairdressers in the world working on your head. It’s going to be fabulous.’

  ‘Can I have a mirror?’ I asked pathetically.

  ‘No,’ said Oliver. ‘I never let my clients have mirrors.’

  It seemed to go on for ages. First there was a lot of regular, measured snipping, then he seemed to go wild, stabbing madly at my hair with the scissors and cutting into it in what seemed like a random manner. It reminded me of my father doing the pruning.

  ‘Careful, Ollie!’ I said. ‘You’ll have my eye out doing that.’

  Kiki laughed. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘It’s just what he does. If you ever read a fashion magazine, you’d know he’s famous for it. He goes into another zone. But he won’t hurt you and it will look perfect.’

  Finally, Oliver stopped cutting and ruffled my hair with his hands. Then I felt him draw a parting down one side and make a couple of adjustments with his comb.

  ‘Finished,’ he said, ‘Sonny, can you get that mirror down off the wall for her?’

  He brought it over to me, and I closed my eyes, too scared to look. Eventually, I opened one eye and squinted at myself. Then the other. I gasped. I looked amazing.

  ‘Omigod!’ I said.

  My hair seemed to have dried as he was cutting it, and it was hanging in a perfect bob, to just below my ears. I turned my head and saw how it was gently sculpted into the back of my neck, but in a natural-looking way not like a 1960s space-age hairdo.

  I didn’t quite recognize the person in the mirror yet – she had a much longer neck than me, fuller lips and much better cheekbones – but I could see that the haircut really suited her.

  ‘Wow,’ I said after a while. ‘Wow, wow, wow. It looks amazing, Ollie. Now I see why you’re such a big deal. Thank you so much.’

  I jumped up and hugged him. Then I did various twirls and poses while they all clapped and cheered.

  I had a new look and I loved it.

  I got a heck of a surprise when I woke up the next morning, my sleep disturbed by rain hammering on to the roof. I’d actually forgotten I’d had three-quarters of my hair chopped off until I stumbled into the bathroom, and I nearly fell over when I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror over the sink.

  Of course, after a night pressed against a pillow and a fair bit of thrashing around as Kiki and I had fought over the duvet, it didn’t look as sleek as when Oliver had finished with it. In fact, parts of it were practically standing on end. I wasn’t at all sure I liked what I saw. I looked plucked.

  Then, entirely on automatic pilot, I picked up a hair elastic to tie it back while I cleaned my teeth. But there wasn’t enough length to tie back any more. The surprise made me stop and look at myself again, properly.

  I smoothed the rogue strands down and then pulled a comb through the rest of it. To my amazement, it bounced back perfectly into the bob shape. I looked at myself from each side and then grabbed a hand mirror to check out the back. I still loved it – but I was already worrying what Ed would say.

  I tried to put it out of my mind and busied myself in the kitchen making mountains of bacon sandwiches in anticipation of Sonny’s usual appetite, but Oliver came down alone, not even particularly hung over – for him.

  Kiki, Joseph and I exchanged looks.

  ‘Where’s Sonny?’ I said in the end. ‘Isn’t he coming down for breakfast?’

  ‘Sonny went home last night,’ said Oliver, a serene expression on his stubbly face.

  We made no effort to hide our amazement.

  ‘But you two were practically getting it on at the table…’ protested Kiki.

  ‘We were holding hands,’ said Oliver primly like some kind of superannuated convent girl. ‘We had one kiss on the doorstep and then he left.’

  He paused and took in the look on our faces.

  ‘What?’ he said crossly, and sounding more like himself. ‘Just because you lot are a bunch of fucking whores – well, maybe not Amelia, she’s probably frigid – you all expected me to shag him on our first date? Well, some things are worth waiting for, you know. You should try it some time, Kiki.’

  This time she actually was speechless.

  20

  By the time I got back to the flat on Sunday afternoon, I was getting so nervous about Ed’s reaction to the haircut, I really didn’t know what to do with myself. Although it was pouring with rain, I was beginning to wish I had stayed on in Winchelsea – possibly until my hair grew back.

  I called him to let him know I was home, and he was in a great mood, which gave me some hope. The deliveries had gone exceptionally smoothly, and he’d been very warmly received everywhere he’d taken the wine personally.

  He’d ended up staying the night with one client – the hedge-fund guy he’d been talking to at Kiki’s party, who lived in a beautiful Georgian house down in Richmond Park – after an informal tasting of the wine had turned into a full-on binge.

  Not that Ed or his clients would ever have called it that. They were ‘connoisseurs’. If they drank the best part of a half-case of wine between two of them, it was fully to compare and contrast the finer points of the vinta
ge, not to get very expensively shitfaced.

  But I was glad he’d had a good time, because it made me feel less guilty about my own gallivanting, particularly that embarrassing moment with Joseph Renwick.

  It was the champagne, I told myself. There’s nothing like alcohol – particularly bubbly – for stirring up odd feelings, and if he had been a little inappropriate with me, he was probably just desperate for a bit of female physical contact now he was suddenly single again.

  My own reaction was harder to excuse, but I tried to put it out of my mind, telling myself it was probably some kind of sexual frustration left over from the disastrous episode in Paris and then being around Sonny’s pheromones.

  By the afternoon, the combination of guilt over that and worry about Ed’s likely reaction to the haircut was making me so jittery I was just wandering around the flat picking things up and putting them down again. I would have gone out for a run, always my best therapy, but it was still pouring with rain.

  In the end I found comfort in sorting out my business receipts. Thanks to years of being around Ed, I had known from the start to keep them for everything that related to getting my clutter-clearing job done: phone bills, taxis, Oyster card, stationery, stamps, bin bags, tissues…

  So far though, I hadn’t been much better about it than one of my clients, just stuffing them into a carrier bag in my bedroom, and I needed to get them ready for my first visit to my new accountant, which was scheduled for the following week.

  Once I’d done that, an activity I knew most people loathed but which I found strangely calming, I set about creating a proper home office for myself in the corner of my bedroom. I’d always kept all my bank statements filed with Ed’s stuff in his study, but now I was going to need to keep my business stuff separate from his, so I dragged a table in from the spare room and put my new phone, my old address book, my pencil pot, a lamp and my trusty clipboard on it. It was a start.

  Then I made a list of files and folders and other things I would need to buy, to keep it as organized as I was supposed to make my clients. I’d already collected my business cards and letterhead from Mount Street Printers & Stationers, just along the road – Smythson had too many bad associations with my old job – and I was finally starting to feel like a proper businesswoman.