by Andi Osho
‘Have we?’ said Meagan with blistering sarcasm.
‘Come on, Meag. It’s been good. I’ve learned loads and we’ve dated some really interesting men,’ said Simi.
Meagan scoffed. Bruno, her snuffling suitor had been many things but interesting was not one of them.
‘Thing is, now that we’re coming to the end I think we need to up the stakes,’ said Simi sipping her gin and tonic. ‘The guys have been nice but this game is about new possibilities.’
‘Good point. Maybe we should give it another week or two,’ said Jemima, pushing and pulling her roller across the wall.
Meagan wiped her hands on a cloth and tossed it aside. She didn’t need new possibilities. It was these two dolts that were all over the place. From across the office, Simi gave her most persuasive doe eyes and Meagan begrudgingly caved.
‘Okay, Sim-Simma,’ she sighed. ‘What did you have in mind?’
‘Really?! Right,’ Simi said gesticulating with her paint-stirring chopstick. ‘We’ve all talked about what the others need but I think it’s time we felt it. Some real, from-the-soul truths.’
‘I don’t get it,’ said Jemima.
‘We did it in an acting class once. Meag, sit,’ said Simi planting herself on the floor, cross-legged and beckoning Meagan to join her.
‘Why am I going first?’ Meagan squawked.
‘Just because. Now sit down and close your eyes,’ commanded Simi taking Meagan’s hands in hers.
Meagan reluctantly sat, closing her eyes. In front of her, she could hear Simi take several deep breaths before letting out a low moan. Great, thought Meagan. Instead of finishing her office, she was now in some bizarre love séance.
‘What are you doing?’ whispered Jemima.
‘I’m communing with her aura,’ said Simi as she splayed her hands and began to rock.
‘FYI, when you commune with mine, it might go to voicemail. Just leave a message,’ Jemima said.
Meagan smirked.
‘Shush!’ said Simi, rolling and rocking even more, her banshee moans making Meagan giddy.
Simi’s voice seemed to be swirling around her, coming from all directions. Suddenly, Meagan felt Simi’s movements stop.
‘Well?’ Meagan said opening her eyes.
Simi starred back, her face expressionless.
‘You need a strong heart,’ she said.
‘Exactly. Don’t want him conking out halfway through bumping uglies,’ Meagan snorted going to stand.
‘No, Meag,’ said Simi pulling her back, ‘You know what I mean, like a strong box, that can hold you.’
‘Like a safe…’ ventured Jemima.
‘Sounds like a prison,’ Meagan said, this time making a concerted effort to loosen herself from Simi’s grasp.
She wobbled to her feet, steadying herself on her filing cabinet. Whatever Simi had done had made her feel – odd. And what was all this talk of hearts and safes. She already had safety – her plan. That’s how she was taking ownership of her life so no one could let her down again. And no matter what the other two thought, the plan wasn’t a response to Parker. It was about life, the world, how things were for a woman and what they had to do to protect themselves especially when you came from nothing. Meagan would never forget being placed on free lunches at school, wearing secondhand clothes and never being able to afford what her friends could. Far from being a burden, however, it was all fuel to her flame to ensure she was – and always would be – self-sufficient. All at once, Meagan became aware of the hush in the room.
Simi turned to Jemima. ‘From now on, when we look for Meagan, that’s what we have to find – a strong heart. Now, Meag, you do the same for Jemima.’
Meagan exhaled. ‘With all that wailing and rocking? No way, Sim. Not today.’
Simi pushed Meagan down until she was sitting on the floor again and cautiously Jemima sat opposite her looking as though she were about to have an anaesthetic-free tooth extraction.
‘Take Jemima’s hands,’ said Simi, sounding like a birthing coach.
‘Simi, is there any sense in which this might be overkill?’ said Meagan as she unceremoniously grabbed hold of Jemima.
‘No.’
Meagan closed her eyes and huffed, taking a deep breath. Instantly her mind flooded with images of trees, acres and acres of them in a forest. She sprung her eyes open.
‘Don’t tell me,’ said Jemima, her eyes still squeezed closed. ‘I need a millionaire with his own publishing company.’
‘Shush,’ instructed Simi. ‘Meagan, what did you see?’
‘I don’t think I’m doing it right,’ said Meagan, uncertain. ‘All I saw was a bunch of trees.’
Simi nodded sagely, ‘That’s what you said at the skating rink.’
‘Yeah but I was joking.’
‘What’s going on?’ Jemima asked, opening her eyes.
Meagan shook her head. The images in her mind had been so vivid, so clear. Just trees, rooted, still, strong in all weathers, immovable. Jemima looked at her.
‘I dunno. Perhaps you need to meet someone from Forest Gate,’ Meagan said, quickly standing.
Having someone, even one of her besties, seemingly able to peer into her soul or being able to peer into theirs had unnerved Meagan.
‘More booze?’ she said hoisting up the whisky bottle.
‘It’s Jemima’s turn to do me,’ said Simi as she positioned herself back on the floor.
‘What exactly am I doing though?’ Jemima asked as she took Simi’s hands.
‘Just ask the question and listen for the answer,’ said Simi as she closed her eyes.
Meagan topped up her glass as Jemima took a deep breath and closed her eyes too.
‘Four hundred years ago they’d have called this witchcraft and burned us at the stake,’ Meagan scoffed uneasily.
Jemima’s face creased in uncertainty. She opened her eyes and pulled her hands away.
‘What is it?’ Simi asked.
‘All I kept getting was – a break,’ said Jemima.
‘You mean like a chance or opportunity?’ said Simi. ‘Do you want to take another look?’
‘I probably wasn’t doing it right,’ said Jemima, hopping to her feet and stretching her legs.
‘Do you think it meant a break from my old patterns? I’m confused,’ said Simi.
‘Look, I just did what you told me,’ said Jemima, flustered.
Meagan had had enough. Everything was starting to feel way too serious.
‘Come on, man. This is meant to be a painting party not Mad Nanny McFanny’s Witchcraft Coven. If I’m gonna drag Simster here on her day off, we should enjoy it,’ said Meagan raising her glass. ‘And, Jem, aren’t you glad of an afternoon away from the book?’
At Meagan’s words, the pressure seemed to ease out of the room.
‘To be honest, I’m so close to finishing, it’s almost become fun again. The time flies by,’ said Jemima.
‘It’s true,’ Simi piped up. ‘Sometimes I don’t see her for hours. She’s in her room just writing and writing and writing like she’s plotting. Won’t even let me read anything.’
‘It’s not… ready.’
Meagan watched as Jemima seemed to momentarily disappear inside herself. She knew writing could be pressured but her publishers really were making Jemima work for her money.
‘Let’s take a breather,’ said Meagan wandering over to her window and looking down on the alley below.
Meagan loved her window and particularly her view of this quiet Soho alleyway where, after dark, people got up to all kinds of things their parents wouldn’t approve of. Jemima leaned on a patch of unpainted wall next to Meagan, as Simi perched on the windowsill beside her.
‘So, how is the book going?’ Simi asked as they all watched the toing and froing below.
‘Beverly’s backstory is coming along,’ said Jemima after some thought.
‘Excellent,’ said Simi.
One day, thought Meagan, she would definitely fi
nish one of Jemima’s books – but there was just soooo much insurance stuff and, furthermore, reading anything longer than a cocktail menu made her brain ache.
‘Good for you, mate,’ Meagan said.
‘Actually, I have to say thanks to you guys,’ Jemima continued. ‘You’ve inspired my writing.’
‘Wow,’ said Simi, beaming.
‘How so?’ Meagan asked.
‘I mean, you gave me ideas about who Beverly is…’ said Jemima.
‘Well as long as you don’t do a Troy on us,’ said Meagan nudging her.
‘Course,’ said Jemima, draining her drink and going back to her painting.
‘Jem’s not like that,’ said Simi as she trotted back to her roller tray.
Meagan bristled at the thought of Troy, remembering the time she’d been stupid enough to open up about her dad’s bankruptcy, about the day the bailiffs had taken their things, moving through the house like locusts. She’d quipped that the only thing she’d been bothered about was her Xbox but they’d taken it anyway. And after sharing all that privately, Troy had stolen it, neatly weaving it into a new routine she performed the following evening. An Anderson Shelter couldn’t protect Troy from Meagan’s wrath when she had found out.
‘But you know, sometimes you absorb information,’ mumbled Jemima almost to herself.
‘It’s okay,’ said Meagan, ‘we’ll just kill you and you can explain afterwards.’
‘That’s not funny!’ said Simi, waving her roller at Meagan.
‘Oh relax, Sim. I’m not gonna kill anyone – just horribly maim them.’ Meagan winked.
Simi frowned at her, rubbing her rose quartz in Meagan’s direction. Before she could respond, her mobile rang. Meagan pulled it from her overalls trying not to get paint fingerprints on it. She looked at the screen and withered. It was Todd. Again. She pocketed the phone, letting the call go through to voicemail but just as she picked up her brush, it started ringing again.
‘Allow it, Todd!’ she cursed.
This had to stop. What was wrong with him? No level of hotness could excuse this behaviour.
‘Something happened?’ Jemima asked.
‘Yeah, I’ve got myself a stalker,’ said Meagan.
Simi looked away and carried on painting. ‘Maybe he just really likes you,’ she offered.
And that was lovely, thought Meagan, but too much. What weirdo would call after receiving a photo of her out with another guy?
‘It’s getting on my wick,’ she said dragging her brush back and forth over the wall.
‘It’s been four years. No wonder he’s got attached,’ said Jemima.
‘Why? I haven’t.’
‘You and Todd have lasted longer than any of my relationships,’ said Simi.
Meagan let her brush drop down, ‘There is no “me and Todd”. There’s just me and then this whole other weirdo that won’t quit.’
‘Wouldn’t it be funny if you ended up together, you know, like married,’ said Simi.
Typical, Meagan simmered. In Simi’s mind, life was all church bells and bouquets.
‘Todd is NOT marriage material. He’s not even boyfriend material. If there weren’t laws about street sex, I wouldn’t have even set foot in his flat. I’d be doing yoga poses with him in that alley,’ said Meagan pointing out of the window.
‘Downward dogging?’ said Jemima.
Simi spluttered her drink as they all broke into laughter. Thank God, thought Meagan. This day had become way too fraught. It felt good to finally have something to laugh about. As a second wave of giggling struck, Meagan’s office phone rang. Her laughter abruptly subsided. Todd was pushing his luck. She swiped the cordless phone out of its cradle.
‘Listen, I don’t care what you can do with your tongue, I want you to – Antonia. Hi!’
Meagan pushed the receiver into her chest and facepalmed before composing herself.
‘Sorry, Antonia, no I said, tongs not tongue. I just sacked my hairdresser and he’s taken it badly. Anyway, what can I do for you?’
Meagan listened, occasionally nodding as Jemima and Simi watched on.
‘Okay, got it… I see. Right. Thanks,’ she said before hanging up.
She turned to Simi, her face sombre.
‘Are you doing that thing where you pretend it’s bad news – but it’s not,’ Simi asked.
‘I’m sorry, angel. They went another way,’ said Meagan. ‘They’re idiots, obviously.’
‘Obviously,’ Jemima added rubbing Simi’s back.
Simi nodded and returned to her wall, paint dripping down her arm from her roller.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Meagan pacing, the dead receiver still in her hand. ‘You played it exactly how I told you?’
‘Yup,’ said Simi still staring at the wall. ‘They even put on a special filter. A blueberry or… gooseberry…’
Meagan stopped pacing, ‘You mean a strawberry filter?’
‘That’s it.’
Meagan’s head dropped. That was not good at all.
‘What’s a strawberry filter?’ asked Jemima.
‘It means,’ said Meagan, ‘they weren’t recording. It’s an old trick they use for street interviews. If someone’s being weird, the director will ask the cameraman for a strawberry filter.’
‘As in, don’t record them?’ asked Jemima.
Meagan nodded. ‘What did you do, Sim?’
The room went quiet.
‘I did what you told me to and that’s why they thought I was bonkers! The second time round, Cameron didn’t even want to read with me… in a chemistry read! Your notes were way off,’ Simi blurted.
‘Excuse me?’ said Meagan.
‘They’re always off. The only reason I do them is because you took me on when no one else would and I’m grateful for that, but what’s the point if it’s making things worse? And now I’m stuck, like, if I don’t do what you say, I’ll get in trouble even if what you say is completely wrong,’ said Simi quivering.
Meagan took a long breath. It would be unfair to unleash on Simi who was clearly high on paint fumes and not in her right mind. Simi looked at the floor.
‘I mean, you could just do your own thing, Simi. It is your audition,’ said Jemima.
Meagan threw a silencing glare across the room and Jemima went back to her painting.
‘I want your input, Meag, I really do but just… read the scripts – properly. Not everything is about comedy,’ said Simi playing with the handle of her roller. ‘Sometimes I wonder if your notes might be why I’m not getting anywhere.’
Meagan felt her lips tighten across her teeth.
‘You know what kills me about actors. Nothing is ever good enough. And when everything is juuust right you don’t want to audition because life’s not quite working out. Well, boo hoo! That’s how the world is, Simi. Shitty things happen but we crack on. I work eighteen hours a day, six days a week and all I hear is whining. Not thanks Meagan, great job, Meagan. I tell you what, comedians aren’t perfect but they’re a damn sight more grateful!’
Jemima upped the intensity of her painting.
‘So, instead of telling me my notes lost you the job, how about a modicum of gratitude, a smidge, a drop, a wee dram!’
Simi blinked in shock before stepping out of her overalls, grabbing her rucksack and leaving. Jemima looked over at Meagan before putting down her roller and going after Simi.
‘Oi!’ Meagan hollered. ‘You haven’t finished your wall!’
Chapter 31
Simi
Simi glanced around Nostromo at all the creative types beavering away in various corners of the café. She could see why Jemima loved working here. It certainly made Simi feel better and anything that helped put Meagan’s painting party behind her was more than welcome. Coffee orders placed, they took a seat by the window and waited for their drinks.
‘I got it first thing,’ said Simi, showing Jemima a text.
‘“Sorry about Friday. Good luck at the audition. At least
SS isn’t in the running,”’ read Jemima. ‘Well, she apologised. That’s a big step for Meagan.’
Jemima handed the phone back. Simi reread the message unconvinced and frankly, still smarting from Meagan’s harsh words.
‘If she’s sorry, why did I get such a dressing down? She knows I’m grateful,’ moaned Simi.
‘Do you tell her?’
Simi’s brow furrowed. She had assumed her appreciation was obvious but evidently not.
‘Might be worth letting her know. Looking after actors isn’t really her thing. She’s doing her best,’ said Jemima.
Simi’s heart sank. It was true. Meagan was doing her a huge favour and in return, all she did was criticise her.
‘So, who’s SS? Is it this Sandra Scott woman?’ Jemima asked.
Simi’s mood darkened as she remembered that once again, Sandra ‘bloody perfect’ Scott with her flawless everything, had swooped in, nabbing the role of Dorothea.
‘I’d do better in a flying competition with Superman than auditioning against her,’ grumbled Simi.
Why did Sandra even go up for roles like Dorothea, Simi stewed. For her they were chicken feed but for Simi, they were a chance to take her career to another level or any level for that matter.
‘Remember what Luke from our comedy class said. What’s meant for you won’t go by you. Plus, Antonia can’t think you’re all bad. She’s invited you to audition for another role,’ said Jemima.
‘I guess,’ Simi said, searching Jemima’s face for reassurance.
‘Hey, Jem, your coffees are ready!’ called Azi.
‘Come on, chin up.’ Jemima smiled as they collected their drinks.
With their to-go cups in hand, the girls headed out. Simi kissed Jemima goodbye and watched her head back to her flat, probably to continue cooking up her secret literary masterpiece. Aside from when they were playing their dating game, it felt as though Simi saw Jemima less and less. Even though they were living under the same roof, she missed her and hated the sight of Jemima’s almost-permanently closed bedroom door. Simi hoped she hadn’t outstayed her welcome. Jemima had been so kind, letting her stay. The thought she was desperate to claw back some personal space made Simi shudder. Well, whatever was going on, Simi prayed it was a lone cloud casting a brief shadow which would soon pass. Maybe once the book was delivered, they could hang out like they used to and this would all be forgotten. In the meantime, she had to focus on today’s task – her audition with Antonia. She marched off towards the tube, determined and ready.