Probably the Best Kiss in the World
Page 4
Plucky amputee Lydia Attison (22), raised £2,000 for children’s prosthetics last Sunday morning, when throwing herself out of a plane. Poor Lydia lost both her parents and her left leg at the age of 14, in a horrific crash on Westhampton High Street when a run-away lorry smashed into them. Now, back on her feet and raring to go, Lydia was on the first plane up and first to jump out. Camera-shy Lydia said it had been “a rush”. Her skydiving instructor, Glen Harris (26), to whom she was strapped for the tandem jump, was happy to tell the Echo, “She’s a natural; fearless and a fast learner. I’m hoping we can hook up for another jump sometime,” he said, giving her a cheeky wink.
-Neil Finch, Staff Reporter, Westhampton Echo, Page 6
Chapter 4
“OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!! Sister!”
Jen wanted to crawl under the desk and disappear as Ava scuttled across the office in her skinny jeans and wedges.
“Robert’s told you then?” Jen asked, turning around in her office chair to face her future sister-in-law, who might have been grinning from ear to ear, had Botox allowed. Oh good grief, she’d also had one side of her head done in cornrows.
“Darling, we knew,” Ava said with a giggle. “Mumsie rang Sunday morning to say he’d asked for the ring. Took her a while to find the thing. It was hidden in the depths of her knicker drawer. Anyhoo, we’re all delighted.” Ava pulled Jen up from her seat and crammed her into a hug. Over Ava’s shoulder, she saw Aiden the intern watching them with a rather heated expression. Jesus God, it was just two women hugging, not lesbian office porn. She had her reservations about Rupert’s eighteen-year-old godson, which was why she generally set him tasks that kept him away from her. Today she’d given him a stack of the local newspapers she’d been ignoring, to scrapbook the ads Well, Honestly! had placed in recent months.
“How was the festival?” Jen asked, wanting to move the conversation, and Ava, off her. She still hadn’t quite got her head around her newly-fiancéed status. Monday had flown by as she’d been immersed in Ava’s mountainous workload. Robert had sent a goodnight text, but that was it and not out of the ordinary. All in all, Jen wasn’t experiencing much difference, with the exception of Lydia giving her the cold shoulder, but they’d been through that enough times. So really, Jen suspected her initial panic and Lydia’s concern was a gross overreaction.
“Glasto was fabulous. Aiden darling, two teas pronto per favore.” Ava sat on the edge of Jen’s desk, but didn’t give her ex-workload a glance. Jen had most of it sorted and piled neatly for filing. “The bands were amaaazing as always, and the kids just loved it. It’s so good to see how they thrive when we sleep under canvas and get back to nature.” Jen wasn’t sure glampy yurts counted as camping. Nor did she think hot showers, porter services and spa facilities constituted getting back to nature.
A thought suddenly hit Ava and Jen worried she was having a seizure, but no. “Oh. My. God. I nearly forgot. Something mind-blowing happened at the festival. I was coming out of a laughter workshop in the Healing field and there was this woman making these things. Actually making them with her own hands. They’re the next Best Thing. For the company I mean. I’m soooo excited.”
“Really?” Whatever it was, it had to be astounding, as Ava was flapping her hands like little birds’ wings.
“Yah, totally. I FaceTimed Zara immedo. She sends her love and congratulations by the way. Says not to bother with the Seychelles for your honeymoon, the hotels still let children in. Which made me laugh as Zaz adores having my babies over. Isn’t that funny? Must be other people’s children she despises. Anyhoo, the thing.”
“The thing,” Jen encouraged. She wanted to know what it was that had Ava so excited, but also she wanted her off her desk as she had tonnes to do. There was an advertorial deadline for Saga magazine to hit and she wanted to get a call in to the National Trust for a flyer in their next mailing.
“So, you know Zaz and I have been talking about expanding the company? Growing the range?”
Jen bit her tongue. She was the one always pointing out the entire business plan was based on one product type. Pads and pants counted as one. It seemed like an all-eggs-in-one-basket approach to business. And okay, on a purely selfish note, more products would give her options when it came to telling people what she did for a living. People always asked what specifically she marketed.
“Well obviously, given our niche strategy and our dedication to the ethical values of the products, it’s been a bit tricky, but this thing just nails it. And once I’d spoken to Zaz, who was totes on board, like ‘duh, no brainer,’ I marched right back to the Healing field and signed the woman up as a supplier on the spot. I had to send Rupes off to all the cash machines with all our cards to get a decent wad for exclusivity too. I don’t mind her selling them at festivals once she’s fulfilled our orders, but there’s no way I’m having any of our competitors getting hold of them.”
Bloody hell. If she’d managed to get Rupert to haul his bum from the yurt and his mates then Ava must have been on a mission. Plus this almost deranged excitement Jen was witnessing was the tail-end of the hurricane. Aiden appeared with the teas, dodging Ava’s flinging arms.
“Well come on then, what is it?” Jen prompted. Hating surprises as she did, the build-up was not fully appreciated, but she had to admit she was intrigued as to what this thing was that had blown Ava’s already blown mind, and Jen was about to be landed with.
Ava looked behind them, lest anyone should be eavesdropping. The office had only the one door and any spies would have been noticed. She then swept a look between Jen and Aiden who was still hovering.
“Crocheted tampons,” she whispered dramatically.
The ensuing silence was deafening; exactly the affect Ava had been wanting as she nodded them through it. “Precisely,” she said, acknowledging their stunned state. “That’s what I thought.” She closed her eyes and shook her head at the momentous memory. “One hundred per cent organic cotton, filled with bamboo, hand-made and machine washable. Available in non-bleached ecru for the die-hards, but otherwise in pristine white. We’ll have to research how the bleaches are disposed of. But they tick all the boxes; organic, a national product and what’s more they’re even artisan. She doesn’t make her children help her either. I checked.” Ava’s beaming face could have kept ships from rocks.
Jen had no idea what to say. Crocheted tampons. Her brain didn’t know where to start. She opened her mouth a couple of times but had to keep shutting it as the right words, office-appropriate words, wouldn’t form.
“I know, right?” Ava was still nodding. “Rupes said I was a business wizard, a Biz Wiz, and Zara opened a bottle of Bolly right there on screen.”
“Do you think there’s a big market, Ava?” Jen managed tentatively.
“Well not yet, silly, nobody knows about them, unless they’ve been hoiking around Glasto, but once you start getting the word out there Jen, you betcha. All those women who use the mooncups but find it uncomfy having a rubber thingy up their ninny? They’ll love it and they’ll still avoid the years of expense, waste and eco-destruction of disposable tampons. All they need is a small stock, a waterproof pouch with two compartments – you know, one in one out – and they’re good to go until the menopause. Like I said, Jen, No Brainer.”
Jen wanted to call Lydia and howl. She’d feel better hearing Lydia mercilessly take the piss. But Lydia still wasn’t talking to her. This though, this might just be the thing to thaw Lydia out. This would tickle her no end. She already thought Ava and Zara were bonkers, this would send her over the edge. Well, if there was silver lining to be had from the crocheted tampon issue, then that might be it.
“How about, Ava,” Jen started carefully, “how about I run a few focus groups first? Say three for example, across various age groups and see how women feel about it.”
“Not just women, Jen,” Ava raised an eyebrow at her, “men can use tampons too. Gay men use them all the time. You need to widen your reading. Org
anic is important to men too.”
“Right,” Jen said, ignoring Aiden’s look of confusion. He could Google it. “I’d do a group for them too.” She couldn’t wait to do a focus group covering anal sex aftercare. That might just be the highlight of her career to date. Her eyes flitted to the clock and calculated how soon until home-time. She needed a drink. She needed to cocoon herself away in the non-bonkers safety of her brewery, la-la-la-ing to herself and casting all of this out of her mind.
“No need, darling. I appreciate your conscientiousness – one of the many, many things we love about you – but the extra work’s not needed given the response the things got at the festival. I saw it with my own eyes and both Zaz and I know in our hearts this is the right thing.”
Jen had been here before. Once the sisters “knew something in their hearts”, it was effectively an executive order. The vital-but-unused flotation tank in the meeting-slash-inspiration room was testament to that.
“And that’s not all, Jen” Ava said, suddenly looking terribly serious and moving to sit opposite Jen in the nearest chair. “I said I’d wait until Zaz got back for this conversation, but given the engagement thing and our need to act fast on the tampons, I can’t see the benefit of waiting.” This sounded ominous. Even more ominous, Jen adjusted, the great tampon reveal had set a new bar.
“This is a big step for the company and we’re going to require everyone’s efforts. Particularly yours, Jen and we’d like to show you we value you.” Ava sat up straight and took a deep dramatic breath for her proclamation. “Zara and I have agreed we want you to become a partner in the company alongside the expansion.” Ava grabbed both of Jen’s hands, presumably believing Jen needed support in light of this joyous bombshell. “We want you to share in the success, because you deserve it, because you’ll be family and because it simply makes sense.”
Jen experienced new levels of gobsmackedness, causing her to sway slightly.
“I know, darling,” Ava squeezed her hands kindly, “you don’t have to thank us, you’ve earned it. It’s not everyone we’d allow to buy in, but we know an asset when we see it. You should be very proud of yourself.”
Wait, what? Buy in?!
Chapter 5
Jen’s finely-tuned nose was almost exploding with all the scents. Re:Love, Alice and Max’s florist-cum-salvage shop was a riot of blooms and a joyful assault on her senses. Jen often dropped in after work for a chat, today however it was an emergency. The shop was situated at the end of The Arches, adjacent to the arch Jen’s dad had worked in. Alice and her girlfriend Max had made the most of the exposed brick walls and concrete floor with Max showcasing select pieces around the shop – fireplaces, old furniture and some up-cycled items – while Alice’s flowers brought a sea of colour to the space.
“They’ll let you buy in?” Alice asked, incredulous. “I don’t know why I’m surprised, the pair of them are nutters.” She sat on the front desk, legs swinging as she chomped on a stack of chocolate digestives. She wore her staple of a homemade tea-dress, bobby socks and saddle shoes, which she only ever changed up by adding a cardy and Doc Martens with opaque tights in the winter. Other than the fabrics, Alice’s sole variables were her bright lipsticks and her hair styles, which ranged widely from a fully-spherical afro, to two Bjork sprouts when it was hot. Opposite, Jen was taking the opportunity to lie down along the length of an old church pew.
“I know,” Jen groaned, unsure how she had managed to get to this stage in her life. Four days ago she was happily tapping her beer, minding her own business and here she was being press-ganged into being part of someone else’s. And she hadn’t told Alice about the engagement yet. It didn’t quite seem like the right time, not when she’d come storming in, mouthing off about Ava’s offer-slash-decree. It felt like one of those double-edged honours dictators bestowed on people which invariably lead to a difficult demise. “It’s bad enough with the inco pads, but crocheted tampons? I keep asking myself if this is what I got a degree for?”
“I’m guessing you didn’t,” Alice agreed. She’d always been a good ear for Jen, but normally for Jen letting off steam about Lydia’s teenage antics. As the eldest of four girls Alice understood. “And good of them to decide how you want to spend your savings.”
“Which is ridiculous, because there are none. The house is paid for, sure, and there’s this place, but the rents are supposed to fund Lydia’s future prosthetics, not to mention a pension for her.” Jen felt her pulse beginning to race. This was the stuff of her 4 a.m. worries.
“Lydia’s got her head screwed on. She’ll be fine in her job, and she’ll get her own pension.”
“But what if she doesn’t?” Jen whispered, “what if the leg holds her back? People can be so mean and judgey and dismissive.”
“Jen? Stop. There isn’t much to hold Lyds back. Trust me. You’re too close to see it, but she’ll go a long way.” Jen wished she could be so sure. Alice didn’t see the worst days, when things became too much and Lydia retreated to her bed. Her tenacity was impressive, but she was still only human, not a superhero. Not that Lydia remembered this either sometimes; she would make all sorts of mad decisions if Jen didn’t keep a rein on her. She’d even mentioned skydiving some months ago, but Jen had put the kibosh on that. Some things were way too dangerous. “Besides, missy,” Alice fixed her with a beady eye, “haven’t you got something of your own to be worrying about?”
Jen sighed. “The bloody tampons. Ugh. No pun intended.”
“Gross,” Alice said with a grimace. “But no, something of a more personal nature that should have been the thing you came to tell me about, maybe yesterday?”
Jen looked at her blankly, until Alice picked up a posy from the counter and waved it at her.
Oh.
“How do you know about that?”
“That? Your impending nuptials? Because Robert paid for a skywriter and told the whole town.” Alice looked at her po-faced.
“What?! Really?” She hadn’t seen it. Oh crap.
“No, don’t be ridiculous,” guffawed Alice. “Could you see Robert doing that?” Fair point. “Lyds texted me Sunday night, ranting. Believes you’re making a mahoosive mistake.”
“She may have shared that sentiment with me. I think she’s worried about me leaving her.”
“Yeah, no.” Alice seemed sure of this, but then she didn’t live with Lydia. “She’s definitely convinced there’s someone better suited out there for you.”
“She’s been watching too many rom-coms, Alice,” Jen said with a sigh. “She’s a sucker for those.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Sorry,” said Jen, “I forgot you’re an enabler.” Alice and Lydia regularly saw the chick-flicks together because Jen refused. “They’re fun – fluffy fun – but they aren’t real, Alice. Life doesn’t work like that. They give people unrealistic ideas. Either the set-up is ridiculous, or when the characters do get together, the relationship will never sustain itself. All film romance is idealistic and improbable.”
“You really think that?” Alice looked appalled, her current digestive frozen halfway to her face.
“Sure,” said Jen, looking back to the ceiling, totally clear on this. “It’s a life partnership. You have to think rationally and long term, you have to make compromises and be practical, and I don’t think meeting on the Titanic or during an impossible mission is a sound basis for that. Those intense scenarios make people overlook the realities and the enormous flashing warning signs that their relationship is doomed.”
Jen stopped to look back at Alice, who was still looking at her aghast.
“That’s your honest belief?” Her tone was a blend of dismay and moral outrage.
“Deffo,” Jen said, nodding along with her own argument. “I mean, I like a good Mills & Boon now and again – who doesn’t? – but you know it’s as much fantasy as Game of Thrones or Star Wars. I just think, because they’re set in real life, people confuse fantasy with reality.”
“Doesn’t make it less true.” Jen’s mind was set.
“But what does that say about you and Robert then? Why are you apparently engaged?” Alice thought she’d nailed the flaw in Jen’s argument here, but Jen was ready for her.
“Because we’re going to be a sound partnership. That’s what Lydia can’t get her head around. We’re very compatible, like a good business partnership. I’ve known him since my teens and we’ve had a steady six years to see that we meander along at the same pace in the same direction, which in business is a good plan. Lydia seems to think that’s wrong, that we should be bouncing off each other with mad sparks flying. Where’s the harmony in that? Equally, basing a lifetime on someone you met for a mad moment, be it in a pub, on holiday or in a high-octane, life or death scenario, well that’s a madness. Lydia just isn’t old enough to see it.”