Wilde Women

by Louise Pentland

  For her next collection, which launched just a few weeks back at the spring/summer LFW, Mara went with a rival make-up company to ‘keep things fresh’. Obviously at MADE IT we all understood and graciously (aka through gritted teeth and, for my boss Natalie and me, some anxieties about meeting our budget) sent her a bouquet of flowers to congratulate her on another winning season. We had to assume that was our lot with Mara, and that we should carry on bidding for other work in the catwalk arena because it was such a success for us last time and Natalie – savvy businesswoman that she is – is so keen to keep expanding our portfolio.

  You can imagine how thrilled (and relieved) we were when Mara’s team called and said they loved us so much they wanted to work with us again. Could we ‘put something together’? Natalie told me to keep it on the down-low that, although they said they needed an official proposal, we were the front runners. The theme for their spring/summer collection will be ‘Not of This World’, so of course, our Queen of Special Effects is finally having her moment. No one does a holographic eye or a strobed cheekbone like Skye.

  Skye is brilliant at breathing life and energy into a big, creative concept. She instinctively knows how to add pizzazz. I know we’ve come a long way in the last year because I can actually tell her this comfortably without feeling a touch bitter and like I want to eat my feelings afterwards. Maybe this is growth?

  While Skye is buzzing over the new Mara Isso project, I’ve been working alongside my boss and all-round absolute hero, Natalie, to explore other areas that MADE IT can expand into. I love that she trusts me to help with this, and as much as I enjoy going out on my usual MUA jobs and working with regular clients, I’m really coming to love the business side of things and feel the thrill of it.

  I surprised myself a couple of years ago when I assisted Natalie on a horror film shoot in New York. I’d never travelled for work before, and I thought I’d be a wreck, but after a shaky first night, I got into my stride, found my confidence and totally excelled. The franchise is British, produced by an American company, and we won the ongoing contract. I’m so proud of the role I played in winning the five-film contract, and my job started to grow from that day onwards. The production company had assured us the next film would be in progress within twenty-four months and would be shot here in the UK. Being known for regular feature film work would be a huge feather in our cap. However, things are looking a bit rocky on that front just now, as it’s all gone a bit quiet. When Natalie and I grab a moment to chat, I can tell she is worrying about it too – but she dismisses my anxiety with: ‘I’m sure it’s nothing, these things take time’, and after we send a polite ‘check-in’ email, we move on to what I really want to talk about: my new idea to expand the MADE IT business.

  Ever since seeing my PSM friend Finola blossom after a mini-makeover and pamper session at the PaGS charity spa night last year, I’d been thinking how many women there are like her out there who would love some support and guidance with their make-up.

  My idea is to set up a studio where men or women could book slots of time to come and have an expert beauty lesson from a qualified make-up artist. They’d be shown what colours and textures suit them, and we could offer tutorials on any kind of look (casual day, glitzy night), and then the client would go home with a clear idea of how to do their own make-up well and feel their absolute best. I’m a big believer in people feeling good about themselves regardless, but I also know that when I’ve applied the perfect strong brow I feel like an utter badass.

  I explain my ideas to Natalie and she thinks it’s a great plan. With so many freelance MUAs on our books, as well as Natalie, Skye and I employed full-time, there’s more than enough expertise to hand. Stuart and Alice could manage the logistics of it – we’d just need to think about hiring studio space or venues and marketing it right. Natalie tells me to go out there and bring in the business. Right. Well. I will, then!

  Once I’ve had my meeting with Natalie, read through more of Skye’s unsurprisingly amazing creative ideas for Mara (think Swarovski crystals, think coloured lashes, think holographic body art), organised which MUAs are on which jobs next week, worked on creative ideas for my own upcoming bookings, spent a healthy amount of time scrolling through Insta when nobody’s looking (it’s research, honest!), and texted Edward what I’d like to do with him once Lyla’s in bed (oh, how I’ve missed filthy messages popping up on my phone that aren’t gross dating app dick pics), it’s time to pack up and head to school to collect my girlie.

  I close my laptop with a satisfying thud, throw all my sweet wrappers and debris into the bin (wrappers first, notes/screwed up paper on top so nobody can judge me), pick up my trusty giant bag and head out of the office, saying my goodbyes cheerily as I go.

  Life feels good right now. At last. I’m where I’ve always wanted to be. Further than that, in fact. Am I a bit out of my depth? Maybe. Would I change it for the world? Hell, no!

  FOUR

  APRIL

  ‘I’VE GOT SOMETHING TO ask you,’ Edward announces the next Friday night as I flump down on the sofa next to him with a glass of wine that, held deftly aloft, I don’t spill a drop of. As Skye would say, ‘Hashtag: skills’.

  I feel an instant prickle of panic on the back of my neck. I don’t want to deal with any more hard stuff; I just want to collapse on the sofa with wine, and maybe share some light gossip or happy news, like when I finally got to tell him about Gloria picking me to help her set up Women Who Win. But immediately my brain starts shuffling through all the bad things he might be preparing to say. Before he’s said a word, I’m convinced he’s leaving, or that he must have some terrible illness, or he’s about to tell me he’s a member of one of those cults where you have to get up before 4 a.m. every day. Then I take a breath, steady myself and regain control of my mind.

  I’m a very able woman; whatever he has to say, I can handle it, and respond.

  ‘Oh, right?’ Nailed it.

  ‘I still don’t know what to do about the move, and I’ve only got a few days left here,’ Edward says, staring ahead, flicking through the Netflix options.

  He’s being very casual. Maybe he’s felt the panic prickle, too, and is trying to de-escalate the situation.

  ‘What do you mean? I thought you were going back to wrap things up a bit in the US and then base yourself here for a while? Has the plan changed? Are you not going back? Have things fallen through with the business over there? Have they fallen through with the store here? Did you—’

  ‘Oh my God, did your brain just throw up on me?’ Edward asks, pulling his attention away from the TV and looking at me in surprise.

  Oops, lost control. That steadiness might have gone …

  ‘Erm. Yes. What I meant was, lol, I’m so casual, lol, and breezy too, lol, what’s up?’

  Edward laughs. I love it when he laughs. His jaw sort of drops down a tiny bit as he smiles and looks all chiselled and strong, but his eyes go all crinkly round the edges and make him look kind. It makes me want to curl up into a ball and at the same time cuddle him, but then also to straddle him. It’s very confusing in a very wonderful way. I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and should probably be paying attention to what he’s saying, but it’s very difficult when he’s this delicious, dammit. I could literally just stare at him all day, remarking on how attractive this man is and how I can’t quite believe he’s here with me.

  ‘Oh yes. I knew deep down my girlfriend was ultra-chilled and would never get wound up over her boyfriend potentially uprooting his entire life and moving across the planet for her,’ he continues, chuckling.

  It’s ridiculous at this age, but I still feel a bit of a tingle down my spine when he says ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend’. It’s a weird validation every time that I love, but also feel a tiny bit unsettled by. It’s all a bit much. Or maybe it’s not. He’s so lovely. I’m overwhelmed. No, no, I’m fine. Totally fine.

  ‘For him too, not just for her, let’s be clear. And no!’ I exclai
m. ‘I would never think that after being solo for about five hundred years, a man changing what side of the world he lives on is a big deal. It’s nothing, really. On a par with deciding between chips or salad in a restaurant. Just a teeny thing, you know?’ I try to laugh back with as much breeze as possible, but I still feel tense and the overwhelm is increasing. These are big issues.

  ‘So, when this man who thinks you and your daughter are amazing (even though she hid my laptop in the recycling bin this morning)—’

  ‘Yes, sorry about that, I—’

  ‘When this man wants to wake up next to you each morning, but needs to decide if he’s going to rent a place in London or commute from here, what should he do?’ Edward says, his eyes looking straight into mine.

  Wow, his eyes are soft. It’s like the edges of his pupils just blend with the speckles of brown and it’s almost blurred. His eyes always look kind and gentle. In fact, he’s always been kind and gentle. I realise I’ve totally lost track of the question.

  ‘Hmm?’ I say, playing for more time.

  ‘Should he rent his own place, or live here?’ He tilts his head slightly with the last word.

  ‘Oh.’ Suddenly things have gone from sofa bants to sofa serious. This feels like too much to put all on me! For the last two years (and more, in some respects), I’ve been making huge decisions. What school to put Lyla in, how to bring her up alone, saying yes to Natalie’s promotion, walking away from Theo (my Turned-Out-to-be-a-Total-Bastard ex), choosing a new place to live. I’ve also been the only one making all the little decisions, like what to put in Lyla’s lunch box, and where to grab a coffee, and is it time to call a plumber about the weird knocking noise in the airing cupboard pipes. I’m done with deciding things. This is too much!

  ‘I … I like things as they are.’ Everything is fine as it is. I like having Edward around, and I definitely don’t want him to go, but if I make the decision that he should live here and then it all goes wrong, once again a great big mess will be all my fault.

  Edward pushes on, thankfully not hearing my overwhelming inner monologue.

  ‘“Things as they are”, as in me living here with you and Lyla, or “things as they are”, as in going with the flow?’ he asks, still gently.

  ‘I don’t really know. Do you want to live here?’ I ask tentatively, putting it back on him. I need to know what he wants, too.

  ‘Well, there’s the space,’ he says suggestively.

  ‘That’s not a good enough reason! I need more than that, please!’ I laugh nervously.

  ‘Well, I love falling asleep holding you, and spending evenings on this bloody awful sofa arguing about what to watch with you.’ He shifts about on the brown leather as though this proves it.

  I’m nervously floating on cloud nine when I think about how much I’ve wanted a man to say something like that to me for so long, followed very rapidly by a wave of indignation. I’m utterly incensed that he could insult my beloved sofa.

  ‘This sofa is not awful! I’ve had it forever!’ In fact, I inherited the sofa from my granny when I moved into her old house. This sofa is special. It’s full of soul. Not her soul. My sofa isn’t haunted by an old woman, but, you know, it’s a good one. An oldie but goldie.

  ‘Yeah. I can tell.’ He ramps up the sarcasm.

  ‘Cheeky sod. Now I’m definitely not asking you to live with me.’ I hit him with one of my many cushions that, if I’m really honest, I bought to try to improve the sofa.

  ‘But you were going to, before I dissed your awful sofa?’ he asks with a grin.

  I pause. ‘I was going to say you could live with me if you thought you could handle it. We’re not perfect, in this house. Or super-stylish. And sometimes when Lyla’s at her dad’s I like to walk around in a face mask and giant pants and just be, yanno?’

  ‘If I can handle being called a worm, a pimple, Mr Nits and Edward Poo Head, as well as having my laptop hidden in the recycling, my keys buried in the shrubs and bogies wiped on my phone, then I can absolutely handle you in big pants. I might actually join you!’ he says, leaning in for a little kiss, sending me into a bit of a tizz about whether I should just rip his clothes off here and now or continue this very adult conversation.

  God, he’s lovely. And now, yes yes yes, it looks like he’s going to live here! Fuck me, this is turning out very well indeed. And, even more amazingly, after that initial panic I feel quite happy about it. I’m not freaking out!

  Deciding (see? Always making choices) not to convey what I’d actually like to do to him on the sofa (I’ll save it for later, and maybe then he’ll come to love the sofa more), I continue our chat and move very firmly away from sexual antics on the sofa not filled with Granny’s soul.

  ‘I’m sorry Lyla’s being like this. She will come round. She just needs to feel safe. It’ll be fine.’

  ‘I know. I get it. I’m not at all cross. I want to make her feel safe, too. I want to be a family. I wanted us to be a family last year,’ Edward says, the tone changing in his last sentence as he feels the loss of the miscarriage.

  Although it hurts, I love that he still talks about it. Miscarriage is so rarely spoken about, and when it is, it always seems to just be a ‘woman’s problem’, as though it’s only the woman who hurts. But seeing Edward grieve too helps me feel we’re in it together, and that the little life we didn’t get to bring into the world wasn’t nothing. It was something, and it was loved, and there is still love there.

  I take a big breath. ‘I’d love you to move in. Things are getting so busy at work, and at home now Kath isn’t on hand as much, and with Lyla – who I swear has a more active social life than me – that you living somewhere else and us having to schlep about wouldn’t make any sense at all. We’ll talk to Lyla in the morning, and reassure her that everything’s going to be fine, but in the meantime, keep an eye on your valuables. I’ve seen her eyeing up your sunglasses as her next target.’

  Edward laughs, nods, clinks his wine glass against mine, and I decide that actually now is the time to show him what I’d like to do to him on this sofa, because if you can’t celebrate with sex in the lounge when your boyfriend says he wants to be a family, when can you?

  FIVE

  TWO WEEKS LATER, HALFWAY through April, Edward goes back to New York with all of his possessions intact and no new nicknames from Lyla. After a lot of reassuring chats and, I’m ashamed to admit it, a lot of bribery (in the form of buying way more LOL Dolls than was strictly necessary), I think maybe Lyla has not only accepted but started to really enjoy Edward’s company. One night they sat up way past her bedtime (it was a Friday, don’t judge me) and carefully constructed a cardboard doll’s house out of an old box, complete with furniture and an added garage. I came downstairs and watched them for a moment, without them knowing I was there. Seeing Edward in his element (designing, styling, guiding, caring) and Lyla following on so beautifully made me feel overcome. It felt like I was finally getting the family unit I’d always wanted. Part of me couldn’t believe any of this was happening. I took a stealthy photo on my phone and texted it to Lacey.

  Looks like we’re both living our family dreams, eh? How are you three getting on? Not heard from you in a few days. Did you ever go to that baby yoga group? Xxx

  Moments later, my phone pinged with a reply.

  Awww, they look so cute together. No. Felt too much, and I don’t like taking Willow out in the cold xxx

  It’s April – she’ll be OK if you put a little coat on her. Babies are more resilient than you think! Xxxxxxxxx

  I added extra kisses so she didn’t think I was telling her off or being high and mighty; Lacey is a sensitive soul. And I remembered how I’d felt as a new mum – as if I was looking for an instruction manual that never arrived.

  Yeah. I’ll go next week. Just a bit tired at the moment. All worth it though! I love her to bits! She’s my absolute world! Xxx

  I know – she’s the best <3. Do you want to pop over tomorrow after Lyla’s finished s
chool? We’d love to see you! Xxx

  Mmm, I’m not sure I can. I think Willow might be a bit too snuffly to come out. You could come here though. Xxx

  Poor thing. We’ll come over at 4-ish xxxx

  I switched out of my chat with Lacey and sent the same photo to Auntie Kath, who sent a heart and happy face emoji back. I’d normally get more out of her, but I expect she was busy with her lavender crafts (she tells me business is booming with her hand-blended oils and soaps, and so on) or with Colin. Or both. I quickly put the thought of the supposed ‘sensual versatility’ of her favourite body lotion creation out of my mind. I’d pop in on her during the week, too. I wonder if Edward would like me in lavender?

  IT’S SCHOOL PICK-UP TIME, and I’m in my usual spot with Gillian and Finola in the foyer by the main entrance. I’ve learnt that we all have our spots. You don’t change your spot. If you do, you’ll upset the entire dynamic of where people stand, mothers and children will be lost to one another, families will break down instantly and governments will collapse. OK, maybe I’m going a bit far, but seriously, nobody ever stands in a new place. Once you’re in, you’re fixed, and I’m not rebel enough to go against the unspoken pick-up spot rules, that’s for sure.

  ‘Now look, my dear, I’ve been having a think about your grand plans with Gloria, and I’d like to sign up!’ Finola says in her usual authoritative tone.