by Lindsey Kelk
‘Doesn’t mean she can treat you like a doormat,’ she replied. ‘What was the last thing she ever did for you?’
Hmm, let me think. She had woken me up at three a.m. to apologize for her matrimonial meltdown, and then again at four a.m. to ask if I could schedule another appointment with the same boutique. And then again at four-thirty to apologize again.
‘She’s not been that bad, considering,’ I lied.
Shona raised an eyebrow to the best of her Botoxed abilities. ‘You must have your work cut out with that baby party, anyway. Sounds like a nightmare.’
Having a civil conversation with Shona was like talking to a sympathetic shark. I wasn’t sure if we were having a genuine conversation or if she was just looking for a weakness before she went in for the kill.
‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘Why, what have you heard?’
‘Oh, nothing,’ she replied, blowing it off. ‘Sharaline mentioned the dads were a bit of a handful, that’s all. How’s it all going? You on top of it?’
‘It’s not the easiest party ever,’ I said. ‘It’s going to be a challenge.’
That was not a lie. Now that I was approaching things from Shona’s perspective, there was more work involved than I had realized, and since she was monopolizing Sharaline’s workload, I didn’t even have an assistant to help me out. Where was that cloning machine when you needed it?
‘Well,’ she said, poking around in the top desk drawer. ‘If you need any help, you just let me know.’
I looked out of the window. Nope, zero flying pigs.
‘Thanks?’ I said, nearly choking as I took a sip of my Diet Coke.
‘But I am talking to a woman who organized a sex party for a load of adult babies.’ She dropped the nail file onto the desk and stood up, leaving her coffee cup to stain Sharaline’s work. ‘How hard can this be?’
‘Oh my God, it’s happening again, isn’t it?’ I asked, the colour draining from my face. ‘There’s no baby, is there? It’s another nappy-fetish orgy.’
‘Part of me wants it to be,’ she laughed. ‘But even I’m not that evil. It’s going to be fine − you just need to believe in yourself.’
Believe in myself? Had she hit her head on the way into work?
‘I know I was a bitch when you first said you wanted Victoria’s job.’ Shona hadn’t taken her eyes off me and I was terrified to move. Any sudden movements and she could attack. ‘But when I thought about it, it made sense. I don’t want a complete stranger coming in and trying to take over. We’re a good team, Maddie − there’s no reason why that can’t continue, is there?’
‘No reason,’ I said, worried my eyes might pop out of my head at any second, they felt so wide.
‘And I like Sharaline − she’s on top of things,’ she said. ‘You like working with her, don’t you?’
‘As soon as I get over her name,’ I replied, ‘I will love her.’
‘Ha, I know.’ She tapped the top of Sharaline’s monitor. ‘Her parents must hate her. Thank goodness she has us to look after her now. We’re basically her work parents.’
‘God help her.’ I watched as she stood up, helping herself to the Kit-Kat on Sharaline’s desk. ‘I hope we don’t have to pay her therapist bills when she leaves.’
‘I’m trying to be gentle,’ Shona said, slinging her handbag over her shoulder. ‘Anyway, like I said, if you need any help with the party, just ask.’
‘I will,’ I replied. Did she mean it? Had Colton told her to be nice to me? Was this her long-lost good twin? ‘Thank you.’
‘I’ve just got a few bits and pieces to do,’ she said, nodding towards her office. ‘We could get a drink when you’re done if you’re going to be here for a while.’
‘I was actually just leaving,’ I said, almost regretting it. ‘But we should definitely do that soon.’
‘We should,’ Shona agreed. ‘We should take Sharaline for a welcome-to-the-team drinks or something.’
‘Drinks,’ I echoed. ‘That would be nice. I think Jen from finance is having a drinks thing tomorrow night for her birthday, actually. Maybe we could go?’
‘That old slag?’ Shona gagged and looked at me with pity. ‘Please, Maddie − when will you learn that hanging around with the sad and desperate is catching. You do not go to that or I will personally drag you out by your hair.’
Relieved, I nodded and felt myself relax. Well, thank goodness for that.
‘How come the flat isn’t as much as a shit-tip as normal?’
My brother Dan stood in the middle of the floor casting a suspicious eye over my semi-tidy living room.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I lied, kicking an empty takeaway container under the sofa. ‘It’s always tidy.’
In reality, since Will had taken to ‘stopping by’ unannounced every so often, I’d had to start making a bit of an effort with the place. And with myself. I couldn’t remember the last time my legs had been shaved on so many consecutive days.
‘You’re such a bad liar,’ Dan said, flicking through the masses of paperwork on the dining table. ‘What’s all this?’
‘For Lauren’s wedding,’ I replied, slapping his hand away. ‘Don’t touch anything − it’s organized.’
‘Looks it,’ he said with a quirked eyebrow. ‘Get the kettle on, Sis. I’m parched.’
Narrowing my eyes, I filled up the kettle with suspicion. Dan never just ‘popped in’ for a cup of tea. Dan always wanted something. And wasn’t Dan supposed to be in Tokyo?
‘So, what do you want?’ I asked, cutting directly to the chase.
‘Coffee?’ He settled down on the sofa and put his massive size sixteen boots on my freshly dusted coffee table. ‘No milk, two sugars.’
‘No, really,’ I said. ‘Why are you here? What do you want?’
‘A brother can’t come to say hello to his little sister on a Sunday night without an ulterior motive?’
‘No,’ I replied. ‘Out with it or I’ll spit in your coffee.’
‘Fine,’ he said with a sigh. ‘I’ve been thinking. Rachel’s birthday is coming up and I’ve decided I’m going to propose.’
‘Oh, Dan!’ I clapped my hands together and threw myself at the sofa to give him a big hug. ‘That’s brilliant.’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ he said, pushing me off. ‘Get off. I was thinking I want to make it special.’
‘Have you got a ring?’ I asked, bounding back over to the whistling kettle to make our coffees. ‘When are you going to do it?’
‘Well, little sister, I thought that might be where you could help me.’
I turned round to see Dan looking over the back of my settee with a big cheesy grin on his face.
‘You’re the expert, after all.’
‘Oh, now I’m the expert?’ I said, hands on hips. ‘Because last weekend I was a vacuous, unpokable tart with a pointless life.’
‘In my defence,’ Dan replied with his hands held out in surrender, ‘it wasn’t me who said that.’
‘You didn’t exactly leap to my defence either, did you?’ I asked. ‘I know she’s my sister, but she can sod right off.’
‘You’ve got to cut her some slack, Mads,’ Dan said. ‘She’s having a hard time with this baby − she’s pretty miserable every time I speak to her. When was the last time you called her for a chat?’
I tapped a teaspoon in my palm and opened my mouth to defend myself. But I couldn’t remember. Oh bugger.
‘You’re not telling me you’ve never put your foot in your mouth when you’ve not had a proper night’s sleep?’ he said. ‘Let alone when you’ve got a miniature human being hanging off you twenty-four hours a day? Imagine that for a minute.’
Eleanor hadn’t said anything to me about having a hard time. Eleanor hadn’t really said anything to me at all. Before I could reply, my phone started to buzz on the coffee table.
‘It’s Lauren,’ he said. ‘Shall I answer it?’
‘Give it here,’ I commanded. ‘You’re not allowed to talk to my frie
nds.’
With a sulky face he held it out in exchange for his coffee.
‘Hello?’ I answered, while Dan pulled a face at the mug of instant he’d just been handed. ‘Yes. It’s been ordered. Yes, it’ll be here next week. No, there isn’t time to change the colour. No, we don’t have the budget to just get new ones. I’ll call you tomorrow, Dan’s here. All right, love you.’
Hanging up, I shoved the phone into the back pocket of my jeans and flopped down into an armchair.
‘You’re planning her wedding?’ Dan asked.
I nodded. ‘And it’s a nightmare. One minute she’s freaking out about place settings, the next minute she isn’t even sure she wants to go through with it, and two minutes after that she’s obsessing over the colour of the flower girls’ dresses. She hasn’t even got a dress for herself yet, and the two flower girls have three each. It’s ridiculous.’
‘I’m not exactly shocked,’ he said. ‘She’s got high maintenance written all over her, that one.’
‘Rich English dad, posh American mum,’ I shrugged. ‘She was up against it from the beginning. Anyway, about this proposal?’
‘Is it weird, talking to you about it?’ Dan asked, shifting in his seat. ‘It feels weird.’
‘It’s not weird,’ I said as my phone buzzed into life again. This time Sarah’s name flashed up on the screen with a text message. ‘Hang on a minute, I’ve got to reply to this.’
‘You know what your problem is,’ he said, tasting his coffee once more and then pushing it away on the table with a sour look. ‘You take on too much. No wonder you haven’t got a boyfriend − you’re too busy holding your friends’ hands all the time.’
‘She’s going through a hard time.’ I kept my eyes on my phone, tapping out a response to Sarah’s miserable Monday-dread text as I talked. ‘She needs me.’
‘Someone’s always going to need you,’ Dan replied. ‘But sometimes there’s a difference between being needed and being taken advantage of.’
‘Isn’t it mental that I might not know the difference, coming from such a loving and non-judgemental family?’ I said, putting my phone back down. ‘And as I mentioned, I do have a boyfriend, actually, so eff you.’
‘Really?’ Dan looked genuinely surprised. ‘I assumed you were making that up to keep Mum quiet.’
He was such a great big brother.
‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘He’s real. His name is Will, he’s a lawyer, he plays rugby, he’s got all his own hair, eyes and teeth, and as far as I can tell has no major mental defects. It’s early days but I think it’s going well.’
Buzz-buzz. Another text.
‘Do you always answer your phone when he’s here?’ Dan asked.
I reached for my phone and saw Tom’s number on the screen. A little fizz of nervous excitement ran through me as I swiped to read. ‘Yes?’
‘Then it’s probably not going as well as you think.’
‘Shut up − this one is work,’ I said, reading, re-reading, and then putting the phone on silent. Just confirming our meeting, very polite and totally professional. ‘I’ve got a meeting on Wednesday − the client was just confirming.’
Dan clucked his tongue. ‘At eight on a Sunday evening?’
‘It’s not a nine-to-five job,’ I replied. ‘You’re a photographer − you should understand that.’
‘Fine.’ He picked up his coffee and gave it another brave sip. Poor Dan, so spoiled with his fancy espresso machine Mum and Dad had bought him for Christmas. I’d got a ‘proper coat’ because clearly I couldn’t be trusted to dress myself. The fact that said coat was something my Nan wouldn’t be seen dead in was another matter entirely. ‘You always seem so rushed off your feet. You need to learn how to say no. I’m only thinking of you.’
‘I suppose you’ve got a point,’ I admitted as Lauren’s name came up on my phone. I discreetly sent it to voicemail and gave my brother a tired smile. ‘I’m basically doing two jobs at the moment as well as organizing Lauren’s wedding. And Sarah’s round here every other night. I am knackered.’
‘Just say no,’ Dan repeated. ‘I used to be the same. I’d take every job I got offered, but you end up not doing your best work. You need some downtime, Mads.’
‘Just say no.’ I took a swig of my own coffee. God, it was pretty rank. ‘Now. Engagement. Spill.’
‘I want to do something amazing,’ Dan said, his eyes lighting up. ‘Something really extravagant and memorable and brilliant.’
‘OK,’ I said, excited to see him so excited. ‘Like what?’
‘Well, I was thinking you could help with that.’ He gave me a cheery grin. ‘What would you do?’
I stared at him, unblinking, unsmiling.
‘What happened to “just say no”?’ I asked.
‘I’m your brother,’ he scoffed. ‘I didn’t mean say no to me, obviously.’
‘Obviously.’
‘I’ve had some ideas,’ he said, whipping out an iPad. ‘Let me know what you think.’
I sighed as he opened Pinterest and wished I’d had something stronger than a Nescafé. This was going to be a long night.
Everyone knows that falling in love is the most amazing experience in the world, but the path to that magical moment is different for everyone. Use this part of the journal to record your happiest memories.
How does it feel to fall in love? Giddy and exciting and confusing and generally like I’m going mental.
What’s your favourite thing about being in love? The warm, fuzzy, buzzy feeling when you’re alone together.
How do you know when love is real? When you feel totally safe and secure and you trust him completely and you feel understood and heard and cared for and you know he isn’t going to run off with that girl from his company and knock her up.
14
Wednesday June 17th
Today I feel: Umm …
Today I am thankful for: The tiny, tiny amount of natural grace I have been blessed with.
One day I’ll sit down with this journal and write about what a lovely, non-eventful day I’ve had. Only I probably won’t because I have quite a few non-eventful days, and at the end of them I don’t have the energy to pick up a pen. Today was a test. Today I came home so exhausted and confused, I took the remote control with me to the toilet and then couldn’t find it for half an hour.
In the future, historians are going to look at Twitter and Facebook and think we were an entire generation of people dealing with a mass bipolar disorder.
Nothing about today was simple. I was on the phone with flower farms all morning trying to source pink and peach roses for the Dickensons and red roses for Lauren, while simultaneously trying to text-talk Sarah out of the toilets at work after one of her co-workers left a copy of Divorce: Think Financially, Not Emotionally on her desk.
It’s a rare occasion when I’m relieved to be meeting a client, but when I saw Tom waving at me outside the Palm House this afternoon, I could have kissed him. I hadn’t seen him since his impromptu appearance at the office but we’d spoken over email, and, in spite of Will’s repeated warnings, he didn’t seem to be too much of a knobhead. More importantly, he wanted to spend money on an event he wanted me to plan.
‘We would put round tables in here,’ I said, waving my arms around the big empty room, trying to give the impression of a lot of furniture without falling over. ‘And do the afternoon tea, which we can have served or as a buffet, depending on the budget, and then we would use this space for dancing.’
I led Tom through the grand glass doors into the neighbouring room and gave a little flourish. ‘You usually want the dancing and the bar close together. People drink more that way.’
‘Do we want people to drink more?’ he asked.
I could hear my fuck-up echoing around the empty room.
‘The venue does,’ I admitted. ‘But you can either set a limit for the open bar or have people pay as they go. Sorry, that’s not me trying to pump you for cash, honest.’
‘Then maybe set a limit for the open bar,’ I suggested. ‘Or just serve wine and beer.’
He frowned. ‘I reckon mum’s friends can put beer and wine away.’
‘Moving on, we’d do five tables for eight in the main room, which means we can seat forty of your mum’s fabulous friends.’ I whisked him back over to the other side of the venue before he could get too anxious, a trick I’d learned from Shona. Don’t let them think about anything budget-wise too long or they’ll talk themselves out of it. Sell them on how it’s going to feel, not what it’s going to cost. ‘It’ll be so beautiful, Tom, she’ll love it. Flowers everywhere, soft lighting, music. Our caterers are amazing − the food is to die for.’
‘We might never get them out again.’ He looked over to the huge windows that lit up the room. ‘This place is fantastic. I must have walked past it a million times and I never would have known it was here.’
‘Well, that’s my job,’ I said. It’s hard to sound humble when you’re feeling very smug. ‘I’ve been waiting for the right party to come along and use this place − it’s so romantic.’
Tom coughed and nodded, hands deep in his pockets.
‘And perfect for your mum’s birthday,’ I added, flapping my cracked iPad around. It turned out I would have to pay for it if I wanted it fixed. I’d decided to go with the lived-in look until next pay day. ‘Anyway, like I said, this room for food and toasts and then next door for dancing, making this the chill-out-and-chat area.’
He didn’t say anything. He was the complete opposite of the Dickensons; I had absolutely zero idea of what he wanted.
‘We’ll choose a colour scheme that will be reflected in the linens and the flowers,’ I went on regardless, ticking off items on my mental checklist. ‘And I’ll speak to some lighting designers about the best way to get this place looking pretty once the sun goes down. I’m thinking lots of fairy lights and low lamps, nothing overbearing and harsh. Just a very flattering soft glow.’
‘Sounds good,’ he said.