The Society Game

by H. Lanfermeijer

  After a length of time, James turned and peered directly down into my eyes. For a moment his expression did not show he recognised me, and I feared I was mistaken and this was just a stranger in a duffle coat that I had been waving to.

  ‘James? It’s me.’ I whispered and James continued staring at me quizzically.

  I stared back into his deep green eyes waiting for further instruction from them that he recognised my blue eyes.

  ‘Olive? Olive!’ He said softly.

  It had been years since I had last seen him, running away from my rejection. He had every right to politely acknowledge me with a nod and cursory, ‘Lovely to see you again, I hope all is well but I must be off to anywhere but here. Good bye.’

  Instead, his arms wrapped around me and I squeezed him back. The memories of his hugs remained accurate and the happy peace they gave me was like a drug I had gone cold turkey on, but I remained the ever-faithful addict.

  ‘You’ve made a dull shopping trip with my mum worth the sacrifice of a Wednesday.’

  He then looked down at his feet and shuffled awkwardly to one side and the other. My mind was vacant for appropriate conversation that would fill the gap of the three years that we had been apart.

  ‘Oh, how nice, a shopping trip with your mum. Is she here for anything in particular?’

  ‘Er, my sister is getting married and Mum’s looking for shoes or a hat or handbag or something like that.’

  ‘Nice, nice. Er, she has an outfit already to go with the hat and shoes and handbag she’s looking for?’

  James paused and resumed his look my way, locking his eyes once more with mine. His lips were the same lips I remembered but they were now snuggled within a ring of stubble which caressed his gentle smile:

  ‘No idea, I really don’t care. We’ve been in and out of various stores for TWO hours and she’s succeeded in losing me here. I say succeeded, it’s more of a mutual parting so she can pick up bags one by one and shake her head but then go back to the same one at the beginning of the line and repeat the process. Why do you women do this? Pick a bag or shoes or whatever and stick to it.’

  ‘It’s genetic,’ I chuckled. ‘It comes from our time in the Sahara desert. From an evolutionary stand point we needed to check the minute detail of the berries we picked; could they be eaten or were they poisonous and thus could only be used to decorate our cave? We haven’t lost that sense of detail and over many thousands of years this comes out in how we shop for accessories!’

  ‘Really? Cos you don’t want a poisonous handbag? Wow, who knew?!’

  ‘Social suicide!’

  ‘Coffee?’ He said. He grabbed my right hand and it fell snugly within his.

  ‘Ah, I work here so I can’t leave but I’ve been on an early shift so I finish around four-ish. My colleagues, Suzannah and Jake can cover when they get in.’

  I pointed over to the pile of rugs to reinforce where I spent most of my days. A pang of pride welled up in my throat and I gushed, ‘I’m the assistant manager. I really enjoy working here and surprisingly I know more about rugs than I do about myself and I want to learn more. I know, I know it’s daft and most find it dull but I enjoy it. I could show you around in the meantime whilst Jake comes in. I’m not sure how long Suzannah will be. I’m babbling I’m sorry.’

  James squeezed my hand again and his duffle coat sleeve tickled my wrist.

  ‘I’d love to see around and I’m so pleased you love your job, really pleased, but how about I find my mum who is probably knee deep in shoes or bags and I tell her that I’m abandoning her for you? This will make her very happy, I promise you; mainly because she gets rid of me and my moaning. I’ll come back here for four or earlier? I can look around then maybe?’

  ‘Earlier, earlier say three? I won’t bore you with showing you my rugs but instead we’ll go for coffee and I’ll bore you then with my scintillating conversation on the art of rug-making. Fascinating I promise!’

  ‘I’ll be here for three and trust us, you could never bore me.’

  James started to walk away, then his tall, towering body turned back to tease me.

  ‘Stun me and surprise me, yes, but bore us? Never.’

  James turned and strode off. I watched him go but this time grateful for the anticipation of his return in one hour and seventeen minutes.

  James returned earlier than three. He took me to a generic corner café; the type whose individuality had been stripped away by a coffee chain. We sat on stools at the window with a bar table which stretched the entire length of the café wall. I drank my coffee slowly and refused a poppy seed muffin (I had already eaten 893 calories that day and the coffee was another 27 calories, so with a muffin I would have exceeded my afternoon calorie allowance).

  ‘Still dieting? You look great, so personally I would suggest you enjoy the five billion calorie bun.’

  ‘Shut up and, instead, tell me all about you and your life. Are you working as a carpenter? Where are you living? Do you still see the Oz crowd? Tell me, tell me.’ I hugged him again, ‘And I’m sorry. Sorry for everything.’

  James smiled. His spots had diminished but his long thin face still glistened in the sunlight. He wore a blue cable knit jumper which was slightly baggy around the neck. His Adam’s apple protruded above the collar of his white shirt. I remembered his neck from Australia but this time I felt reassured that there was a beautiful consistency about him; his body would always be tall and lean, his neck would always be long with a huge Adam’s apple.

  ‘Life is good, I’m working for a firm in Wimbledon that builds stage sets, mainly for West End shows. They’re also training me on the job as I couldn’t afford the course I wanted, but this way I’m earning whilst learning. I have my own flat in Norwood which my mum invades but she’s great as she does all my washing and ironing… I insist she doesn’t do it, really Olive, I whisper under my breath: ‘Mum stop please, I can do it,’ but she just doesn’t hear me. Ah, don’t look at me like that; it makes her happy! And yes, I see Tony, Rich and all the others from Oz. You? Please tell us you kicked that Tatiana into yesterday?’

  ‘Er no, sorry!’

  I was embarrassed, so the conversation was swiftly swerved round to talk of diving and how I longed to go again. By the end of our coffee we had planned a holiday to Egypt to go diving together. We also swore that we would try and see each other whenever he was in London on his work trips, which happily, was on a weekly basis.

  I left the coffee house elated that I had found my friend again but by the time I had returned to my flat I was deflated. I knew Tatiana would tease me for sharing a coffee with lanky James but I also feared the disappointment from Carolanne. I elected not to tell them and I decided that it would be easier if I glossed over my day in favour of hearing about theirs.

  Carolanne was waiting for me with a glass of white wine, handed out as I crossed the threshold. I stepped over Tatiana’s pile of cigarette cartons and magazines and slumped into a dusty sofa. I grabbed my wine and smiled into the glass and said my rehearsed lines, ‘Ahh good to be home, dull, dull day, what are you up to tonight? Anything interesting?’

  ‘Jake told me you left with some tall bloke! Who was this?’ Carolanne leaned over her arm rest and grinned in anticipation for a story.

  ‘Oh that, er no one special.’ In my reluctance to speak my voice cackled, ‘Er, do you remember James?’

  ‘James, James. No… oh, was he the one two weeks ago? The producer man? You’re nodding no, so er ooh! British rail manager, no he was Graham – I remember him as his name suited him. Now you’re looking weirdly at me, but either way, it’s not him… James… James, now you’re looking worried aww, not James from Oz? Now you’re nodding! So it is! It’s Ozzy James, ahhh, he was sweet!’ she squeaked.

  ‘Don’t be embarrassed Ol, he’s sweet, I really liked him but there is nothing between you is there? You said all alo
ng you weren’t interested in lanky James?’ She paused, ‘I’m not being rude sweetie, but really? You and James? I don’t really know him but he’s so thin, I’m not being rude, honestly I’m not.’

  Of course she was being rude and of course I didn’t correct her. Instead I emphatically denied any involvement with James.

  ‘He’s my friend, really he is. I probably won’t see much of him anyway but if I do see him then obviously I can’t be rude and ignore him. Today for example, he had come to say hello to me, I couldn’t hide so I had to chat and in some ways it was nice to find out what he was getting up to. So yeah nothing really. Tea? Do you fancy Lady Grey or Lapsang?’ My voice trailed off at the end and Carolanne winked to indicate she knew that I wanted to change the subject.

  ‘You know what, I take what I said back. I think he’s sweet and good for you. Ignore me; who am I to judge? I date coke heads who can’t string a sentence together so if you like him then ignore me, us and everyone, especially as he’s one of life’s gentlemen. In fact, you know what, feel his spirit, that’s more important than looks.’ She smiled.

  ‘He’s only ever going to be a friend.’

  ‘Whatever you say honey and I’ll have builder’s tea.’

  Tatiana did discover I was friends with James but her reaction was to snort her disapproval; she seemed satisfied that we were only friends and eventually her disinterest in other people meant she ignored the occasions I was out with him.

  It began with coffee after work when he was in town and progressed to seeing each other most Sundays. I looked forward to these days as there were no expectations of what the day could offer me. We would meet for morning coffee at a corner pub and read the Sunday papers. The pub had a large sofa and we would sit in peaceful silence, occasionally commenting about an article we were reading. Afterwards we would take a stroll and talk about anything and everything. There were very few pauses in our conversations but when there were, I would just enjoy looking at the sparkling river or the pink candy floss blossom on the spring trees or the passing clouds bumbling about the sky over our heads. Scenes I didn’t appreciate when I was alone.

  I didn’t talk of my time with James and after a while, I became two people: one glamorous and sexy, foraging for exciting nights at clubs and wine bars, and the other was a break where I relaxed with James. The two lives were kept separate like work and play and should either of them mingle then I was vague with any enquiry about one life to the other. I even began to dress differently: with one life I wore a uniform of fashionable clothes and the other I wore jeans and trainers; as if I was coming home after a long day at work and snuggling into my dressing gown on the sofa.

  Six months after meeting James, my schizophrenic lifestyle was intensified when I met the second man in my life, Mark.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  That Thursday afternoon, in late August, was damp and chilly. It was a year that the month of August had not read its brief on what weather it should be offering the British people. Instead of hot, bright sunny days leading to warm evenings with an orange sky at dusk and a clear sky at night, there were rainy days and nights. Throughout that year, the weather was autumnal with damp mornings leading to wet days and wetter evenings. The land was drenched and the whole of England was tired of the mundane, predictable rain. We had been cheated out of our summer as spring had leapt head forth into autumn. However, on this particular day there was a glimmer of hope that Noah’s ark was not in the process of being constructed, as the nation feared. On this day, there was merely damp air with only the threat of rain above our heads. The evening saw windows opened for the first time and pubs spilling their outdoor furniture onto the London pavements to rejoice that maybe summer was peeking its head around the corner. A timid buzz from the anticipation of seeing the sun and a white dove followed all Londoners; and this bird of hope followed three girls into The China Club.

  We had not been to this club in a little while as Tatiana wanted to try other places. The truth was she had been avoiding a girlfriend of a man she had been seeing. She confessed she knew he had a partner but she loved the thrill of claiming an unattainable man. But this girlfriend guarded her possession and threatened to attack Tatiana. She emphasised her threat by pouring a jug of beer over Tatiana’s head. Tatiana ran out of the club in anger and I had trailed after her (with a wry smile) before comforting her by telling her that her aggressor was; ‘…ugly and she’s just jealous of how pretty you are… but maybe it would be good idea to avoid this woman’s boyfriend in future?’

  (Incidentally, I do not recall ever placing any blame on the shoulders of the girlfriend’s man, especially as it was his jug of beer that he had bought for himself to accompany watching the spectacle of two women fighting over him.)

  Tatiana seemed nervous as she jerked her head around at anyone that passed her then jerked it back again when she had confirmed she didn’t know them. Her arms were folded and her lips pursed in readiness.

  Carolanne and I stood in the queue for The China Club with Tatiana cowering behind us. I was enjoying soft gentle fingers caressing my head from the light evening breeze. The moon was full and low in the sky; it looked like it had been polished to a high shine as it shone across the city lighting up all the puddles until they glistened. I cocked my head to one side and tucked my arm into Carolanne’s.

  ‘James needs to be here to see the moon. It’s so large tonight, I wonder if it’s moving in to steal a kiss from the earth,’ I whispered.

  ‘You’re a romantic in your heart. Where is James? Why don’t you invite him along? You never know, he may bring some good-looking friends? Ooh, we’re moving closer to the front. It shouldn’t be too much longer.’

  Carolanne hugged my arm and rested her head on my shoulder.

  ‘He doesn’t like clubs and he doesn’t have any good-looking friends, believe me; plus they’re all carpenters and so all broke.’

  ‘I bet they’re sweet. I’m tired of pushy, rude, arrogant, egotistical men who just want to bounce me around like a tennis ball to hit from one side of a court to another,’ she sighed.

  ‘Now who’s the romantic thinker?’

  ‘It’s beginning to hurt, sweetie. I don’t want to be emotionally bashed around anymore. Who cares about rich? I care about being cared for.’

  ‘How about kind and rich?’ I said.

  ‘You know, my friend,’ Carolanne replied, ‘there is a Bantu word ‘mbuki-mvuki’ which means, ‘to dance naked with wild abandon.’ There is no equivalent English word because very few know how to dance with wild abandon. In there I don’t dance because I’d be dancing to someone else’s beat. I don’t want that in life anymore, Ol, and neither should you. Don’t you think it’s time we escaped? There’s got to be something better.’

  I didn’t answer instead I pulled her into the red entrance of The China Club for the needed boost of power. I was like a rechargeable battery which had become depleted of energy throughout the day.

  Since we’d been there last, the club had a slight renovation: the light was purple with shaded areas of red from the booths. In each booth the same white leather sofas with diamante studs welcomed customers but now hung an oval chandelier with droplets of crystals surrounding a central white light, which shone onto mirrored tables with one red glass lamp at their centre. The atmosphere oozed a lascivious air into the nostrils of all those who walked through the doors of the club. As I entered the main central area, my breath was caught by a man sitting in one of these booths.

  His companions were boisterous and shouting at one another but he was turned with his back to the group and his body facing toward the dance floor. He looked controlled and appeared to peruse the area as if he was a woodland stag policing his territory. He was sitting on the corner leaning over with his elbows on his knees. In his left hand he was twirling a brandy glass and staring at his cognac. His tie had been loosened and hung around his neck like a noose. H
is white shirt was undone down to below his Adam’s apple and just a peek of toned chest teased its way through.

  He looked like a bored headteacher in control of an unruly class. His jaw was square and jutted out from his face which smouldered contempt for anyone who would dare to contradict him. He did not smile and he did not look up but the whole club stared at this man who sat at the top of Darwin’s evolution scale.

  I sensed him before I even saw him and when I did, I too joined the masses of women who discreetly stared his way.

  It is a primeval flush of hormones that drenches us when we see a person we are attracted to. Apparently, this lustful hormone stays with a person for nine months; just enough time for a baby to be conceived and born – Mother Nature is a cunning croupier who deals cards to an unwilling gambler in a card game of love. When I was handed my cards on a damp August evening there was little I could do with them other than to play.

  This hormone caused my heart to beat faster, my mouth to turn dry and the power I had happily harnessed and unleashed on other men was rendered useless as I became a shy elf, struck with nerves by the person at the other end of the room.

  ‘That is Mark, I can’t believe it,’ Tatiana squealed. ‘That is Mark from CBS bank, he’s one of the youngest senior hedge fund analysts they’ve ever had and he also has his own dot.com business – I think. At least that’s what the girl over there said, but whatever he is, he’s loaded and gorgeous to go with it. And the other woman over there, the one in the cheap red boob tube, told me that he’s just returned from New York and broken up with his American girlfriend and so definitely single.’

  She blurted all this into my ear then started looking around like a hit-man searching for his target.

  ‘Carolanne isn’t here is she? Good she’s so controlling and pushy; a man like Mark can’t stand women like her so if you see her let me know okay? The last I saw of her was about ten minutes ago and she was chatting to her itsy bitsy friend Lisa – can’t stand her, she’s really annoying as she thinks she’s better than everyone else when she isn’t. Anyway, shadow me as I’m going over to talk to him. I look good, yeah?’