Rubbish Boyfriends

by Jessie Jones

  Do you know how many times I’ve thought about that scrap of paper since? Mostly stuff like if I’d kept hold of it I could stick it on eBay now and buy myself a nice new Mini Cooper.

  5 cm

  It’s four thirty. Emily is fast asleep in the chair beside me, so teen midwife is whispering. She’s talking about the new mum in the room next to mine. ‘She’s going to call him Calum. Isn’t that a lovely name?’

  ‘Yes, lovely,’ I agree. ‘Is it her second or third baby or something?’

  ‘Her first,’ teen midwife says.

  ‘That is so not fair. I thought first babies were supposed to take forever. What was her labour? A couple of hours?’

  ‘An hour and a half, actually,’ she says, straightening up having finished her examination. ‘Good, very good.’

  ‘Really?’ I gasp. ‘I can push now?’

  She gives me her demonic little laugh. ‘God, no, not yet. But you’re halfway there. You’re five centimetres.’

  My heart sinks. Her-next-door was done in just ninety minutes and I’m only half-bloody-way. I’m so, so tired. And with Emily asleep, there hasn’t even been anyone to talk to.

  Teen midwife gives me a pitying look. ‘Don’t lose heart,’ she says. ‘It could speed along at any moment, you know. My first took ten hours, but after five centimetres it only took half an hour.’

  Eh? Teen midwife’s had a baby?

  And did she say her first?

  ‘You’ve got a baby?’ I ask, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.

  ‘Ha! I’ve got four,’ she laughs. ‘And all boys!’

  But she only looks about fifteen. ‘How old are you?’ I ask.

  ‘Just because I’ve prodded your uterus, don’t go thinking we’re close enough to swap ages.’ She laughs again and this time I do too.

  At least I’m still numb from the waist down and the awful pain I endured at the beginning has stopped. But it does mean I can’t walk. I don’t know which is worse. Being crippled from pain or crippled from the epidural.

  Teen midwife perches her little bottom on the edge of my bed. ‘Have you thought about names?’ she asks, giving my hand a pat.

  ‘Er, yes, I have. What was yours, again?’ I’ve been wanting to ask her for ages. I need to know now, especially as I can’t be thinking of her as teen midwife any more.

  ‘Louise. I didn’t think you were taking it in when you got here.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘No problem. Lot on your mind. So, names. What are you considering?’

  Emily stirs in the armchair and I lower my voice. ‘Well, it’s a hard one because I want to be original but without being too, you know, affected.’

  ‘Gotcha.’

  ‘So …’ I pause for effect. ‘… I was thinking Diva if it’s a girl. Rocky for a boy.’

  She laughs. ‘Very original and not at all affected.’

  ‘Seriously, I haven’t got a clue. Although I might name her after my mum.’

  ‘Ah, that’s a nice idea. Is she coming? Does she live nearby?’

  ‘No. She died when I was four.’

  I hate telling people. I hate the way they don’t know where to look or what to say.

  ‘But my stepmum will be coming.’ I try to say it as brightly as I can so that teen mid–– I mean Louise’s awkwardness will go away. ‘I’ll call her later, when I’m a bit closer to completion.’

  ‘Well, that’s one way of putting it,’ she says. ‘Are you an estate agent or something?’

  ‘Or something,’ I tell her.

  A blip

  I phoned Simon’s friend, Georgina, the Monday after I finished with Chris. I needed something to take my mind off the whole experience, but more importantly, I realised that, sod dignity, I had to get a job. My connection to the world of electricity and gas depended on it.

  When I got to the interview, Georgina showed me into her office. My first thought on meeting her was to make an excuse and leave. She was stunning: tall and slim with these amazing carved cheekbones you could have folded paper on. After studying my CV for a minute, she gave me the whitest smile and said, ‘Dayna, so glad to meet you at last. Anyone that Simon recommends has to be worth my time.’

  I smiled back, wondering why Simon’s recommendation carried so much weight in the world of beauty therapy.

  ‘How do you know him?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, I’ve known Simon for years,’ I answered without answering at all. If he hadn’t filled her in on the details of our relationship, why should I? I certainly wasn’t going to tell her I was the doormat that Simon wiped his feet on after a hard day’s womanising. I was there to answer professional questions.

  ‘Right, let’s talk about you,’ she said, clapping her perfectly manicured hands together. I braced myself for the onslaught, panicking that I’d somehow forgotten everything I’d learned at college. But I needn’t have worried. The interrogation ran to less than five minutes and was hardly probing.

  ‘Any questions?’ she said when she’d finished.

  Don’t you hate it when they ask you that? I racked my brain desperately and in the end I think I asked her something about holidays or shift times or George Michael. I’m a bit hazy on the details.

  Then she said, ‘I think you’ll do very well with us, Dayna …’

  Was she offering me the job?

  ‘… Can you start on Monday?’

  She sure was.

  But wasn’t she going to get me to do a trade test on her? That’s where you’re asked to perform a treatment, just to prove you know what you’re doing and that you’re not going to strip your clients’ skin off as well as their leg hairs. At college we’d been told never to work for a salon that didn’t insist on a trade test. So naturally I said, ‘Yes, yes, of course I can. I can’t wait. Thank you.’

  ‘Don’t thank me, thank Simon.’ There it was again. She looked at her watch, made some noises about being really busy and then we proceeded to gossip for about an hour. Or rather, she did. Georgina could talk for England. She told me about the clients: ‘stinking rich’ and ‘ludicrous tippers’. She told me about the other staff: Katja – ‘rubbish’, ‘moody’ and ‘Croatian’; Liza – ‘Scottish’, ‘wouldn’t say boo to a goose’ and ‘a total yawn’; and Victoria – ‘I’m technically her boss, but we practically run the place together’.

  Discretion, we’d been told at college, was one of the most important qualities in a beauty therapist. I was sure that Georgina had other strengths, but she didn’t do discreet. ‘Victoria’s a scream,’ she said. ‘It was her who introduced me to Simon, actually. They used to have a bit of a thing. Between you and me, it was strange going somewhere your friend’s already been, but, well, you don’t let something like that put you off when it comes to a guy like him, do you?’

  I forced myself to laugh with her, but inside I felt sick. So Simon had screwed both these women. Had they overlapped with each other? Had they overlapped with me? Eurgh. Horrible thoughts. I really didn’t want to be having this conversation.

  But still, it continued. ‘You and Simon …’ she asked, ‘were you … you know?’

  Inwardly I screamed, but outwardly I gave her the coolest smile. ‘No, just friends, that’s all.’ This wasn’t strictly a lie. Right then, friends was all we were.

  ‘Oh, he gave me the impression he’s a bit sweet on you. Maybe that’s the way to keep him keen. I’ll have to take a leaf out of your book and act cool,’ she said, as if I’d just told her the secret of eternal youth.

  ‘You’re still seeing him?’ I asked, though I don’t know why I was surprised – this was Simon the sex machine we were talking about.

  ‘If that’s what you want to call it. But I’m sure he’s got someone else.’

  Well, yes, I thought. There was Joanne and Hannah and those were just the two I knew about. But I shrugged as if I didn’t have a clue.

  She looked at her watch again. ‘OhmyGod, my half-leg and underarm’s been waiting fifteen minutes,�
� she gabbled, jumping to her feet. ‘Lovely to meet you, Dayna. Monday, ten o’clock. Don’t be late.’

  Along with discretion, we’d been told that another crucial quality in beauty therapists was punctuality. As I said, I was sure Georgina had other strengths.

  ‘I can’t do it, Dad,’ I wailed down the phone. ‘Course you can, sweetheart. You’ll knock ’em dead.’

  ‘Exactly! I’ll knock them dead! What if I give them first-degree burns with the wax? What if I break someone’s spine? That can happen with a back massage, you know. I can’t do it!’

  ‘Listen, just take a deep breath and calm yourself down. You’re being hyster––’

  ‘I AM NOT BEING HYSTERICAL! I CAN’T DO THIS JOB! IT’S GOING TO BE A COMPLETE DISASTER! I KNOW IT!’

  ‘OK, fine. Why don’t you just stay in bed all day, then? Or for the rest of your life even?’

  ‘FINE. I WILL.’

  ‘Fine … Just don’t call me when you run out of money.’

  ‘I WON’T!’ I screamed at the dialling tone.

  Poor Dad. He’d only phoned to wish me luck on my first day. He hadn’t counted on a suicidal maniac being on the other end of the line. What can I say? It was my first proper job, ever. Who wouldn’t be nervous?

  Within fifteen minutes he and Mitzy were banging on my door. I don’t know what I’d done to deserve her presence. I’m not being facetious. I’d been nothing but horrible to her. The last time I’d seen her, I’d eaten her three-course lunch, promptly complained of severe nausea and walked out without even a thank you. Yet there she was, gently talking to me through the letterbox as if she’d had special training in talking suicide victims down from parapets.

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ she soothed. ‘You’re going to make a brilliant therapist. I’ve had more beauty treatments than hot dinners so I know what I’m talking about.’

  I could only see her mouth through the slot. She was wearing glossy magenta lipstick. I couldn’t have been that hysterical any more because I made a mental note to ask her what brand it was.

  ‘Let us in, Dayna. Let’s make a cup of tea and talk about this properly.’

  ‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ I pouted. ‘I can’t do that job.’

  ‘Of course you can. You got the top marks in your exams.’

  ‘But what if I screw up and injure someone?’ I wailed. ‘What if it all goes horribly wrong?’

  ‘It won’t,’ she said. ‘And if it does, well, you just leave and start again. Simple as that.’

  I heard Dad for the first time then. He sounded thoroughly irritated, as if driving round to see me hadn’t been his idea at all. ‘Is that right?’ he said. ‘First sign of pressure and she walks out, is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘No, Michael, don’t be silly. I’m just saying that we all make the occasional mistake, and if anything does go wrong you’ll be there for her. I think that’s what she needs to hear from you right now.’

  ‘No, what she needs to hear is someone telling her to grow up. That’s the trouble with everyone these days. Too bloody soft,’ he grumbled.

  Just then, for some reason, Mrs Locket, one of my teachers, came to mind. She’d seen me struggling with my top-lip waxes and taken me aside. She was so sweet and gentle. ‘You have a perfect grasp of the technique, Dayna,’ she’d smiled. ‘You’ve simply got to relax and put your knowledge to work. Believe me, you’re going to make a wonderful therapist.’ Her soft touch did the trick and I never had a problem after that. I imagined her taking Dad’s hard-line approach. ‘Call that upper lip hairless, you stupid fucking cow? Do it again and if it isn’t as smooth as a fucking baby’s arse, you’re off the muthafuckin’ programme!’ It might have worked just as well, but we’ll never know, will we?

  Dad and Mrs Locket – different planets, as far apart as mine and Chris’s. ‘Come on, let’s go,’ he fumed. ‘There’s no point talking to her when she’s like this.’

  ‘AND THERE’S NO POINT IN ME TALKING TO YOU EVER!’ I yelled.

  ‘See what I mean? She’s a spoilt brat. Are you coming?’ I could hear him jangling his car keys.

  ‘Please, Michael, just let me try one more time.’

  ‘I’ll wait in the car. You’ve got one minute.’

  I looked at Mitzy’s lips trembling through the slot as she searched for some magic words that would make everything better. Poor woman. She was stuck between a stroppy fiancé and his equally stroppy daughter. No one could have blamed her if she’d walked out on the both of us.

  But she didn’t. Instead, she said, ‘Believe me, everything’s going to be fine.’

  She stopped because Dad was tooting his horn impatiently. Bastard – that had never been a whole minute.

  ‘Look, I’ve got to go,’ she said, ‘but I promise you, by the time the day ends, you’ll be laughing at this and wondering what all the fuss was about …’

  Wise words, but I wasn’t listening. Not that I was acting like a spoilt brat or anything. I just wanted my dad to come back and be nice.

  She might have been the bitch that had stolen my father and turned him against me, but I had to give her credit for something. She was right about work, though her timing was out. It wasn’t at the end of my first day that I wondered why I’d made such a fuss. It was after about, er, half an hour.

  Georgina had the day off, so Victoria looked after me. Georgina had been right – she was a scream. She introduced me to Katja (really sweet and not at all moody), then showed me round the salon. Though it was part of the hotel, it was a separate business – like a franchise in a department store – and though the vast majority of clients were hotel guests, the cost of their treatments wasn’t tacked onto their bills. Rather, it went straight to the salon. And since it was within a five-star hotel, it charged five-star prices.

  Victoria gave me an easy first day. A half-leg wax and a mini-facial in the morning, a couple of back massages in the afternoon. I had a brand-new uniform and for the first time in my life I was treating paying customers. It was official: as my shiny name badge confirmed, I was now DAYNA HARRIS: BEAUTY THERAPIST.

  Emily called me that evening. She always rang me, which was only fair. Her phone bills were paid by Max’s giant insurance corporation, whereas mine were paid by me.

  We talked a bit about my new job and then she asked about Chris. I’d been giving her regular glowing updates on our relationship and I might have been a little, er, overenthusiastic about how well it had all been going.

  ‘It finished at the weekend,’ I told her.

  ‘But I thought it was all going brilliantly. What happened?’

  ‘Oh, it’s complicated,’ I said, somewhat airily.

  ‘OK, so break it down,’ she pressed.

  I thought about it for a minute. It wasn’t going to make me sound good, however I put it. But maybe there was a way.

  ‘Well, er, it was just that, you know, it was all a bit, um …’

  ‘Let me guess. You went off him, didn’t you?’

  ‘Er, yes, something like that.’

  ‘God, Dayna, you really do need to grow up. You’ve been doing that since you were fourteen.’

  From Dad’s spoilt brat to this. I tell you, it didn’t make me feel great and I was thinking two people couldn’t both be wrong. But I didn’t want to argue with Emily the way I had with Dad so I changed the subject. ‘Look, it just didn’t work out. Let’s move on. Tell me something nice.’

  ‘I miss you,’ she told me quietly. ‘I miss us sitting around in our PJs and eating ice cream and crying at the end bit of My Best Friend’s Wedding.’

  Eh? What was she talking about? ‘Emily, we never did any of that stuff.’

  ‘I know, that’s the thing that’s so upsetting.’

  ‘But why? You’ll be home soon and we can do the whole crying-and-eating-ice-cream-in-PJs thing then,’ I joked.

  ‘No we won’t,’ she told me ominously. ‘They’ve extended Max’s contract.’

  ‘What do you mean? By how
long?’ I asked, panic taking hold.

  ‘Two years,’ she whispered.

  ‘Two years,’ I whispered back.

  I think she may have been crying. I know I was.

  By my third week at the salon, I’d really settled in. Georgina and Victoria were great and I liked Katja a lot too. She was so friendly and helpful that I was shocked when she was fired at the end of the week. ‘She was rude to clients,’ was Georgina’s curt explanation. I suspected that Georgina had wanted to get rid of her all along – she was just making sure that I worked out before she did it.

  The following Monday, Liza, the Scottish girl, didn’t show up. Victoria called her mobile. ‘Where are you, Liza?’ she snapped. Then to us with her hand over the mouthpiece: ‘She’s in bloody Scotland. Says she’s not coming back.’

  Georgina was furious. ‘If she thinks I’m sending her wages all the way to Scotland, she’s seriously mistaken. She can come back here and grovel for them.’

  ‘She won’t,’ Victoria decided. ‘I had a feeling she was going to leg it. What do we do with her clients though? She’s booked solid today.’

  ‘I’m not that busy. I’ll take some,’ I said, sounding every bit the keen new girl.

  Georgina scanned the appointment list, then looked up at Victoria. ‘Shall we give Dayna the eleven o’clock?’

  Victoria looked over her shoulder. ‘Alexia? Yeah, a nice easy one,’ she said with a smile. ‘A regular,’ she told me. ‘Good tipper.’