Playing for Keeps

by Rosa Temple

  ‘Never mind, Mum,’ Jaime said over her shoulder. ‘But I thought for one precious moment you’d laid off the dinner date for tonight when I didn’t see some hairy or greasy or spotty or old bloke sitting in your living room.’ Jaime made a ‘cheers’ sign to me after handing me a drink. She took a large gulp. I tentatively sipped from my glass. Tasty drink, whatever it was.

  ‘You know your problem is you’re too fussy,’ hissed her mother.

  ‘You know your problem is you’re not,’ Jaime replied. ‘And don’t you think I can meet a man myself?’

  I looked around the room and noticed that, apart from little Lucas, who was happily running around the room and bashing into furniture, everyone else had their eyes averted from the mother and daughter, who started bickering, both speaking at the same time, faces pulled in exactly the same expression. While everyone continued to look as if they were waiting for an appointment in the doctor’s surgery – no eye contact – I hovered next to Jaime, moving from one foot to the other.

  ‘Mother!’

  ‘Jaime!’

  ‘I’ll find my own husband.’

  ‘When?’

  We were saved by the bell when a busy double ring stopped the forthcoming combustion of two women who looked and sounded so alike you would have thought you were seeing double.

  ‘That’ll be Yossi,’ said Rosamund, her voice immediately calm. No one moved and I wondered if I should go and answer the door. Ben Senior eased himself out of the chair.

  ‘I’ll get it, shall I?’

  No one spoke or moved. Jaime and Rosamund were playing a no-blinking game with each other and I necked down the rest of my drink. I winced and screwed up my eyes as I felt a warm, burning sensation travel down my throat and nestle in my chest as if I’d swallowed a hot water bottle.

  Ben Senior came back into the room followed, I supposed, by the so-called Yossi of the beautiful voice. If it was true he had a beautiful singing voice, then it would absolutely have matched his face. Yossi was what Zac would have called gorge. A godlike man in his thirties smiled at us all from the door.

  ‘Ah, Yossi, welcome. How is your mother? Well?’ Rosamund clapped her hands together.

  Yossi handed her a bunch of pale pink roses and shook Rosamund’s hand.

  ‘Very well. And how are you, Mrs Silverman?’

  She put her hand on her chest as she accepted the flowers.

  ‘Oh, very well. As well as can be expected for a woman who has so many burdens she doesn’t know whether to cry about them or just reach for a gin and tonic.’ She laughed with an almost spoken ‘ha, ha, ha’.

  ‘I usually do both,’ said Yossi. ‘Works for me.’

  Rosamund laughed again and turned to look at Jaime.

  ‘I don’t like to hurry you,’ said Rosamund, ‘but we’ll do a quick introduction then I’ll pop and set an extra place. We have a special guest tonight, Yossi. Jaime brought her boss.’

  Yossi was guided around the room by Rosamund and shook hands with everyone. He had a large, warm hand and gripped mine very tightly as Rosamund introduced me as Morgana, Jaime’s boss.

  ‘It’s Magenta, Mum,’ Jaime said politely.

  ‘And last but not least,’ Rosamund went on without batting an eyelash, ‘this is my lovely daughter, Jaime. Jaime meet Yossi.’

  There was an undertone of not-so-old-spotty-hairy-or-greasy-is-he? in Rosamund’s voice and from the expression on Jaime’s face she wholeheartedly agreed. If I wasn’t mistaken, Jaime looked totally impressed by the handsome Yossi in his smart trousers and white shirt. He was about the same height as Jaime in her heels and had rugby-player shoulders and dark wavy hair ideal for running your fingers through.

  ‘Please,’ he said, ‘I’m usually called Joseph. Or Joe, if you prefer.’

  ‘Oh, I prefer,’ said Jaime, seeming to have glazed over. ‘I totally do.’

  ‘Let’s sit,’ said Rosamund, snapping everyone into action. In the blink of an eye she had rushed across the through lounge and into the dining room to arrange a place setting for me.

  Meanwhile, Lucas ran into the side cabinet with the bottles and glasses, fell backwards and landed on his bottom. Everyone ignored him, moving to the dining table, which was impressively laid with the finest of crockery and gleaming silver cutlery. The glasses reflected the lights from the tall candles in a silver candelabrum, which Rosamund proceeded to light with extra-long matches. We all stood around the table watching Rosamund, who appeared to make a blessing, silently mouthing the words. As if from nowhere, the men all found a circular Kippah to place on the crowns of their heads, which they deftly secured in place.

  ‘There,’ she said, ‘all ready. Sit, sit sit. Yossi, you here and Jaime opposite. Yossi – I mean, Joe – could you lead us in the ‘Shalom Aleichem’?’

  Yossi, now Joe or Joseph, began to sing a song. Jamie leaned over to me and whispered that he was welcoming the angels. Everyone sang then as little Lucas climbed onto his mother’s lap. Ben Senior filled a silver cup on a tiny tray with wine until it was almost spilling and began to sing again on his own before uncovering two loaves of bread.

  ‘Challah.’ Jaime whispered the name of the bread to me but her eyes were trailing the lovely Joseph across the table and his eyes were firmly on her. I felt as if I was witnessing something like love at first sight, or raw passion, given that the heat between these two would have been enough to light the candles in the candelabrum.

  I could see how pleased with herself Rosamund was as she left the hot couple to their fluttering of lashes across the table and the blatant double entendres they’d adopted to try to throw us all off the scent – they weren’t fooling anyone, by the way. Instead Rosamund began to grill me, first about my work, my family, and then, as I’d suspected was her plan all along as she asked me out of the blue if I happened to be Jewish, about my love life.

  ‘So, Magenta, I don’t see a ring on that finger. You look old enough to be married by now.’

  ‘Mum!’ Jaime said in a high-pitched tone but barely taking her eyes off Joseph.

  ‘Well, I’m just saying. I was married with two children by the time I was twenty-five. And very happily I should say. Isn’t that right, Benyamin?’ Without waiting for her husband to answer she continued, ‘And he may not look like it now but Mr Silverman was quite a catch in those days. You can bet all the girls were after him but he only had eyes for me, skinny thing that I was, although you probably couldn’t imagine me skinny now, could you? But he swept me off my feet, right out from under the nose of Joshua Feinstein who was gearing up to ask my parents for my hand in marriage. One look at Ben, though, and I knew we were destined to be together. Who are you destined to marry, Magenta?’

  ‘Mum!’ Jaime was even higher-pitched and this time she turned to shoot her mother a scathing look.

  ‘I am living with a man,’ I ventured.

  ‘And there’s your problem right there,’ said Rosamund. ‘You put everything on special offer, who’s going to buy when the price goes up? Before you know it he’ll be checking the sell-by date and wondering where his next deal is coming from. Trust me, Magenta, get that wedding ring on your finger. Let him know he has to close the deal, no extended offer here.’

  Jaime turned to Rosamund. ‘You make Magenta sound like a car, not a person. If you must know, her boyfriend proposed to her already.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ trilled Rosamund. ‘And of course you said…?’

  There was a deathly silence as everyone stared at me for the big reveal. My mouth went dry and I tried to swallow but choked. Not only did I not know what to say, I might not have been able to get the words out if I tried. I looked at Jaime who mouthed the word ‘Sorry’ and looked down at her plate.

  ‘Well, don’t keep the poor man waiting too long,’ said Rosamund. ‘He might just change his mind and move on to pastures new. There’s always some woman out there waiting to pounce, you know?’

  I thought of the sculptor, Sophie, and the easy way she had with Ant
hony even though they’d known each other for less time than Anthony and I had. Would she try to move in on Anthony if I didn’t buck up my ideas?

  The evening continued in much the same way, Rosamund offering me pearls of wisdom regarding love, Jaime and Joseph hitting it off and little Lucas hitting his head on the dining-room table. The food finally stopped coming. I helped Rosamund clear the dishes and thought I should get myself home.

  ‘Is that the time?’ I said looking at the large, gilt-framed clock on the wall. ‘I didn’t realise, I was having so much fun, but I should get going.’

  ‘Are you sure you won’t stay for coffee, Magenta?’ asked Rosamund. ‘It’ll only take a second to put the kettle on.’

  ‘I’d better not. Keeps me up all night. But thank you so much for having me.’ I got up, as did Jaime, Joseph and Rosamund.

  ‘It was so nice to have you,’ said Rosamund. ‘And you’re always welcome.’

  The family bade me goodnight and Jaime followed both Rosamund and me to the hallway where she helped me back on with my coat and kissed my cheek. Jaime did the same and opened the door for me.

  ‘If you ever find yourself single,’ said Rosamund, ‘I know lots of men if you don’t mind Jewish, which I’m sure you won’t.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind at all,’ I said from the front step. ‘I’ll let you know.’

  I walked slowly to the tube station, cheeks hot from the ever-flowing wine at dinner. It was a cold night otherwise. By the time I got to the platform, not only had my cheeks stopped burning but my toes, fingers and face were freezing over. I checked my phone – no message from Anthony. He was probably checking out Sophie’s introductory offer, if Rosamund had called it right. There was one missed call from Hugo wondering when we could have another curry.

  Chapter 27

  I’d exchanged a few texts with Hugo. I told him the staff at the shop had told me he’d popped by and I was sorry to have missed him at the office too, but the run-up to Christmas was busy for me.

  That’s okay, he texted back. Just thought would be nice to have coffee. Not seen you in while. H.

  Will drop in on you soon. Xmas party to organise at work. See you as soon as I can. M x. I messaged back.

  It sounded pretty cold, I thought, once I’d already clicked send. It was just that I wanted to have a clear conscience when I saw Hugo next, no hiding it from Anthony. Since he and I hadn’t discussed anything as serious as our future yet, I thought it better to do that first before bringing up Hugo and the fact that I needed to see him. I couldn’t wait to go out, buy Hugo an amazing Christmas present and finally allow myself to be the good friend Hugo deserved and the one I was too hopeless to be.

  ‘I thought…’ I said to Anthony, who was at the front door, about to put on a thick jacket the next morning. I was holding a slice of toast in one hand and my coffee in the other. ‘As we both of us came in quite late and we haven’t had a chance to talk things through yet, that I could buy you lunch. Would that work for you today?’

  He continued to do up his buttons and hook a large satchel onto his shoulder.

  ‘Er, yes. What time were you thinking?’

  ‘About twelve-thirty, one o’clock-ish? All I have on is a conference call with a couple of buyers and then I’m pretty much free. I’ve assigned Riley to order food and booze for the Christmas party.’ Anthony opened the front door. ‘It’s next Friday. Can you still make it?’

  ‘I should think so,’ he said.

  ‘Great.’

  He left then and I sighed, thinking how strained a conversation it had been. I couldn’t finish my toast.

  At the office I went about my morning on autopilot, checking the time every few minutes and counting the seconds until I could make the trip to Soho and meet Anthony for lunch.

  Sophie was just on her way out of the building when I arrived.

  ‘Hey, Magenta, how’re you?’

  ‘I’m great. You?’

  ‘Need air. Got to a tricky part in this piece I’m working on and everything I do is wrong. Instead of screaming the place down I thought I’d go and walk off my frustrations. He’s locked away in his studio. Working on something he doesn’t want me to see. But he’s like that until he finishes a project, isn’t he?’

  It irked me, the familiarity she had with Anthony. Ordinarily it wouldn’t have, but because of where Anthony and I were it bugged me she could relate to my boyfriend so well.

  ‘He’s through there,’ she said.

  ‘Um, thanks, Sophie.’

  It was chillier inside the building than the rather frosty winter afternoon I’d stepped out of. I walked into an open space with floorboards that groaned underfoot. The room looked out onto the street but Anthony and Sophie had covered the windows with white paper.

  I walked to the back of the room, out into a cluttered corridor and came across a rundown kitchenette. An open door to my right led to a room that was bright and filled with weird and wonderful figurines displayed all around in various materials from clay to metal. What I assumed was a work in progress was on a stand in the middle of the room, wire mesh which presumably Sophie was working into yet another figure of some description.

  It was all pretty impressive, the perfect find for their work. I suddenly felt so distant from Anthony’s world. The Anthony I’d first met as CEO of a leather goods company for men was not the Anthony whose back I could see through the studio that led off to the left.

  Had Anthony not been forced to take over the leather goods company when his father retired, he would have been at this stage a lot earlier, owning a studio, in touch with arty types like Sophie, and he and I might never have met. I felt my heart sink at the thought. If I hadn’t met Anthony I don’t know what my life would have been. It was only through meeting him that I’d started to find any kind of purpose, any direction. It was because I’d walked into his office that day hoping to become his new personal assistant that I’d grown to become the businesswoman I was. Meeting Anthony had changed everything.

  ‘Only me,’ I called from the door, thinking it would give Anthony time to hide away whatever it was he’d been working on.

  He came to the door of his studio, wiping his hands on a piece of kitchen roll. He gave me a big warm smile and I melted because I wasn’t expecting him to be so happy to see me. Since the proposal fiasco and everything that followed the atmosphere between us had been unpredictable and I really felt that in the past week it had gone from bad to worse. I felt it and I knew Anthony did too. Not to mention the engagement ring was still under the floorboards in the bathroom and that spoke absolute volumes.

  Anthony kissed my cheek, finally letting me inside the studio. Apart from all the lights switched on inside, the studio had a skylight and a back window. There were shelves full of art materials, books and various other equipment. The back wall was covered with several of his finished paintings, as yet unsold. Music was playing, low, from a radio somewhere.

  ‘It’s amazing,’ I said. ‘Lots more room than you had before.’

  ‘I’ve finished Anya and Milosz,’ he said, waving a hand at the portrait Anya had contracted him to paint. ‘They’re back from their trip so I’ve got to arrange to have it delivered. Hope she likes it.’

  The painting of Anya holding baby Milosz was against the display wall. It was characteristically an Anthony Shearman portrait, vibrant colour, strong strokes and the feeling the people in the picture were in the room with you and that you could touch them.

  ‘Anthony,’ I sighed, ‘she’ll love this.’

  ‘You think?’

  ‘Oh, come on, Anthony, of course she will. Listen, Anya has always championed you.’

  ‘Really? She’s never bought a single one of my paintings.’

  ‘Until now.’

  ‘Of course, until now.’ As I turned to smile at Anthony I found him standing a lot closer than I’d thought and bumped into him. I attempted to take a step back but he moved closer, taking my arms and pulling me into a deep kiss. I s
miled and looked up at him when we finally came up for air.

  ‘What was that?’ I said.

  ‘Something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time.’

  ‘What’s happening to us, Anthony? How did we start to drift like this?’

  ‘I don’t know. I really don’t. I just know I don’t want it to go on.’

  ‘It won’t,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here. Let’s find somewhere we can talk.’

  Out on the street Anthony locked up the studio. My phone began to ring.

  ‘Ignore it,’ he said. My hand was already on my bag, ready to pull out the phone.

  ‘I can’t,’ I said, ‘but I’ll get rid of whoever it is.’ I took out the phone, the ring becoming louder in the quiet Soho backstreet. I hesitated when I saw who was calling.

  ‘Riley?’ Anthony asked.

  I shook my head slowly and answered.

  ‘Stella? Everything okay?’ I said in a heavy voice. It was as if I already knew. The weeks of avoiding him, pretending he didn’t need me and telling myself I was clearing the path, smoothing things over with Anthony to make room for Hugo, hit me like a safe falling from the sky.

  ‘They’ve admitted him,’ was all Stella said.

  I answered ‘Okay’, turned off the phone and looked at Anthony.

  ‘W… what is it?’ he said, holding me because I was starting to sway, the whole street swirling around me as if I was on a fairground ride. ‘You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’

  ‘Anthony, I… I’m sorry. I have to go. It’s Hugo. He… he’s…’

  ‘Come on. I’ll go with you.’

  Anthony was clutching my arm, supporting me as my weak legs dragged their way towards Oxford Street where Anthony tried his hardest to flag down a taxi ahead of all the others, all the tourists and businesspeople, trying to find a taxi to take them to another tourist destination or business meeting.

  Finally Anthony was pushing my limp body into the back of a taxi.

  ‘Where to?’ the cab driver asked.

  Anthony looked at me. I looked at the driver and then out of the window, my mouth open.