It’s a bit soon TBH.
I usually establish a solid fruit relationship first. Xo
You guide me. Tx
She loved pinging back answers, knowing his responses would always make her laugh. None of the other guys she was talking to on RecycLove were even half as entertaining.
Her tummy was bubbling with excitement by the time she got to the pub. The windows ran with condensation from so much body heat in the little space. She didn’t see Thomas in the front bit so she walked downstairs to the back.
As soon as she spotted him, the bubbles fizzled. She took in his pleasant but portly face and comfy, unstylish fleece.
Why didn’t he look like his texts made him sound?
Because then he wouldn’t be on a dating website. He’d be married to the luckiest woman on the planet.
‘How did the audition go?’ She kissed him on the cheek.
‘Audition?’
‘On the bus. The guy singing with his earphones in.’ She giggled, thinking about the texts. Over-grilled Simon Cowell! ‘Did he make it through?’
‘Oh, he got off the bus before I did. Would you like a drink? I waited.’
‘Then you’re definitely not an alcoholic.’
He smiled.
She waited for a quip.
Nothing.
‘Please. May I have a half pint of Fruli?’ she asked.
She watched him squeeze between the narrow tables to make his way to the bar.
He was as friendly and smiley as when they first met, but with absolutely no banter at all. Without his phone he wasn’t funny. Did that make him a textophiliac?
She had to admit though, as they had their drinks, that she wasn’t having a bad time with him. He was perfectly nice. Nice was all right for the moment.
She just preferred Phone Thomas. He had to be in there somewhere.
James where are you? she texted the next morning from her desk. Mtg starts in 5 and you better be here
He wasn’t usually late for staff meetings. He didn’t like to miss his weekly chance to suck up to their boss. Now would be a terrible time to start. They had to show Ed a combined design on Friday and were as far apart on a compromise as when they’d started. Without a united front in the meeting, Ed would start to get nervous. Nobody liked a nervous boss.
She slipped into one of the few remaining empty chairs around the long conference table. ‘James’ll be here in a minute, Ed,’ she said. Normally she’d have no qualms about throwing him under the bus, but with them working together on the project, she needed to save both their faces. ‘I think he’s having some intestinal issues.’
She may save his face but his arse was still fair game.
‘We’ll wait a few minutes for him,’ Ed said, looking put out. He loved his weekly meetings.
But what if James didn’t turn up? Or what if he arrived with an excuse that didn’t involve explosive diarrhoea? ‘We could start if you want, Ed. I don’t know how long he’ll be, actually. He might not even be in the building.’
Ed frowned. ‘How do you know about his … issues?’
‘He texted from the loo to tell me.’
Everyone stared at her. She wanted to bury her face in her hands.
‘You two have an odd relationship,’ Ed finally said. ‘All right, let’s start then. We’re all busy. What’s everyone working on?’
Just as her colleague started outlining his work week, James burst through the door. He was out of breath and sweaty. At least her cover story looked plausible.
‘I’m not late, am I? I got Krispy Kremes for everyone.’ He grinned at Rachel.
That wasn’t the act of a man who’d spent the morning on the toilet, but Ed didn’t question him.
James chose a jam-filled doughnut and happily munched away as the meeting carried on.
‘Where were you really?’ Rachel asked him later as they left the conference room.
‘I was getting doughnuts,’ he said.
‘No. I know you. That was a diversionary tactic.’
James always got to the office before her. He purposely left home early to avoid the worst crush of the rush hour. He was very predictable like that.
He shrugged. ‘I just ran late today. Hey, I got an idea yesterday after you left. Let me show you.’
He pulled her to his office, where he unrolled a piece of tracing paper. ‘What do you think?’
Rachel didn’t know what to think as she studied James’s redesign of his building. There were still two buildings, which he’d been so adamant about keeping, but they were no longer towers. They were parallel wedges. It was clearly based on her design. ‘I thought you hated the cheese grater idea,’ she said.
‘I do, but it’s not a cheese grater any more. It’s a three-dimensional, tipped-over A.’
He’d drawn a walkway at the midpoint between the buildings, with a completely glassed-in reception area beneath it. ‘So when you’re in reception it looks like you’re still outside. Because of the bi-fold doors.’ He smirked.
‘Bringing the outside in. I get it.’
‘But do you like it?’ he asked.
She did like it. She just wasn’t comfortable with how it made her feel. There she was, always accusing him of insensitivity, yet he was the one who’d managed to incorporate both their designs into one while she was still arguing over details like door handles. She felt like she’d misjudged him.
‘This shows an unusual level of perceptiveness, James. How did you think of it?’ She tried very hard not to emphasise you.
He shook his head. ‘I’m not sure, really. It just came to me as I was thinking about how you’d designed your building. That tapering effect is the most important element of your vision. Am I right?’ He pulled a slightly squashed doughnut from his jacket pocket.
At least he’d wrapped it in a serviette.
‘So I knew we couldn’t lose that or we’d lose the core of your design. This seems like a compromise we can both live with.’
She studied his face as he stuffed half the doughnut into his mouth. The shape of the building was a critical feature. And it was essentially her cheese grater, times two.
Since when did he put his own ambition aside for someone else?
‘Do you think we could agree in principle on this new design?’ he asked. He had a bit of sugar in the corner of his mouth.
Damn, it was a good compromise. She wished she’d thought of it. ‘In principle, yes, I agree. But I don’t believe this just came to you. I know you, James. You stayed up all night obsessing over it.’ He just loved making everything look so easy when, really, he worked harder than almost everyone else.
‘No. I did stay up all night, but I wasn’t drawing.’
He waited for her to ask more. When she didn’t, he said, ‘I happened to have a date last night.’
A date? But he never talked about his love life. Oversharing was her domain.
‘So it really did just come to me,’ he said. ‘Before my date. It was a good night.’
‘Who were you out with? Someone from the website?’
‘We’ve been talking online for a few days. She’s a nice girl.’
‘A first date?’
‘Rachel. Don’t start judging me just because I slept with her on the first date. She’s very nice.’
‘You slept with her?’ She didn’t expect to hear that.
‘Otherwise I wouldn’t have been late this morning.’
‘Please.’ Rachel put her hand up. ‘I don’t want any details.’
His expression turned earnest. ‘Does it bother you? Me dating other women, I mean?’
‘Of course not,’ she said. ‘As it happens, I had a date too.’
‘Oh … But you were here on time, so it wasn’t as good as mine.’
‘Actually, it went very well. Just because I didn’t put out like your date doesn’t mean I didn’t have a great time.’ Okay, so that was an exaggeration. But true to form, Thomas’s text before bed last night had cracked her
up and now she liked him again. ‘I assume now that you’ve slept with this poor woman you’ll never contact her again?’
‘As it happens, I’ve already asked her out for this weekend.’
‘Really?’ She frowned. ‘That’s not like you.’
‘I’ve matured.’
‘No, really. That’s not like you. She must be amazing in bed.’
She expected to get a rise out of him, or some disgustingly sexual comment. Instead he said, ‘I don’t want to be disrespectful to her. This way she knows I’m not a tosser.’
‘Did you slip in the shower this morning and hit your head or something?’
‘Maybe I just listened to your feedback.’
‘Really?’
‘Mmm hmm.’ He nodded. ‘You were harsh, but I had to take some of it on board. Rachel.’ He grasped her hands. ‘You’ve improved me. I’m a different person. How will womankind ever thank you enough?’
‘Shut up.’
He glanced at the doughnut she’d brought out of the meeting. ‘Are you going to eat that?’
When she said no, he stuffed it all in his mouth, leaving sugar all over his chin.
She didn’t tell him.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sarah
Just get over yourself, ya div, Sarah thought as she got close to Sissy’s. It’s not like you’ve had plastic surgery. All the way over on the train she’d fantasised about Sissy’s reaction at seeing her looking, well, not too shabby, if she did say so herself.
Each day it got a little easier to put on the make-up she’d bought. Now she hardly stabbed herself in the eye at all. And she’d keep wearing it too, considering what it cost.
Not that it was only about the money. As much as she hated to admit it, people seemed to like her painted face. At first she thought it was just her imagination that smiles were a little brighter and more forthcoming.
But no. There was definitely a difference. The dresses that she’d chosen with Rachel circled her waist and even gave her a bit of a bust. Judging by the number of glances that lingered, she must look good.
And that made her feel amazing.
Her boss, Harry, had asked if she’d been somewhere sunny. Just Costa del Clapton, she’d joked. Even Maria-Therese, who hated everything about her, conceded a grudging compliment.
For the first time in years, she felt wonderful.
‘All right, Sissy!’ she called as her sister waved from the doorway. ‘Ready to bake?’
‘Yes.’ She stared at Sarah. That wasn’t unusual. As long as Sarah kept quiet, Sissy would eventually say what she was thinking. If she asked, her sister would clam up.
‘You look like Mum,’ she finally said.
Tears sprang to Sarah’s eyes. She didn’t expect that. After all the time she’d spent in front of the mirror in the past few weeks, she hadn’t seen it. ‘Do I? Is that okay?’
Sissy considered the question. ‘It’s okay. I like it.’ With that, she threw herself into Sarah’s arms. Sarah tried not to cry into her fine blonde hair.
God how she missed her mother. Though it wasn’t in that constant grating way that shredded her emotions in the days after she died. And she’d never felt those tides of grief she’d read about either. A tide implied some kind of rhythm, a predictability. That would have been better. At least she could prepare herself, shore herself up against it. But this grief hit her randomly. She might be sitting in a meeting, or on a bus or in the loo, lying in bed or whipping cream or talking on the phone or laughing with her housemates. It didn’t matter where or when or whom she was with. The longing that hit her always went through her like a mortar passing through her middle, leaving a hole she could see through. A hole where she wasn’t whole.
She didn’t have the luxury of going away to lick her wounds though. There was Sissy to think about. She was just as much an orphan and she needed her.
She unpacked her shopping bags and laid out all the baking ingredients on the worktop in the communal kitchen. Sissy stood beside her, rearranging the packets and tins into her own design. When she’d finished, Sarah noticed the symmetry she’d managed to find amongst the jumble of sizes, shapes, labels and colours. That girl had a good eye.
Not for the first time, Sarah wondered where their artistic skills came from. Their mum couldn’t draw a straight line with a ruler. Had the arty gene skipped a generation on that side? Or had both their fathers been creative? It wasn’t like she had anyone to ask. Those details were buried three years ago in the cemetery.
‘Right,’ she said, pushing aside the dark thoughts. ‘I thought we’d make a pound cake today and some biscuits if there’s time. I’ve brought chocolate, vanilla and almond. Which should we use?’
‘Chocolate and vanilla.’
‘Both?’
‘Why not?’
‘In one cake? How would we do that?’
‘Half and half,’ she said. ‘You’re the baker. Figure it out.’
Sarah laughed. ‘You’re right, I can do that.’ After all, she was auditioning for The Great British Bake Off, wasn’t she?
She still couldn’t believe it. She’d talked to the producer a few days after her makeover at Fenwick’s. He had mostly just wanted to have a chat about baking but then he rang back again to ask all kinds of technical questions about working with yeast and hand-raising pies and making choux pastry. She’d got the giggles in the middle of it, thinking how nuts it was to try to describe baking. It was like getting a feel for a porn film using the audio description for the visually impaired.
She had to guess at some of the answers but she must have done okay because he had invited her to audition in March! Half of her wanted to squeal with joy. The other half wanted to ring him up and say it was all a big mistake. She just had to figure out which half would go to the audition.
‘Hey Sissy. Do you know the programme, The Great British Bake Off?’
She shook her head.
‘Oh, well. It’s a baking competition on telly where they make beautiful cakes and biscuits and things each week.’
‘Sounds boring to watch someone bake.’
‘But you watch me bake.’
‘I eat the cakes.’
‘Well anyway. They’ve chosen me to audition for the programme. So I might be on national telly in the summer. Would you watch me?’
‘When’s it on?’
‘On Wednesday nights starting in August.’
‘Not during EastEnders?’
‘No. Would you watch?’
‘Uh huh. What will you bake?’
‘That’s what I have to figure out. I need to have two things for the audition. What do you think I should make?’
Sissy didn’t answer.
They worked together, creaming the butter, cracking eggs and sifting flour to make the cake batter. Then Sarah divided the mixture in half and Sissy set to work sprinkling cocoa into one bowl and vanilla extract into the other. When they finished, Sissy wiped every inch of the tin’s interior with a thin, even layer of butter.
Then she glanced up from the tin. ‘I remember Mum,’ she said. ‘Her dresses.’
Of course. Their mum always wore day dresses, usually with Converse hi-tops in summer and biker boots in winter, always with bare legs. They were a little plainer than the one Sarah wore, but similar enough for Sissy to notice.
‘Do you remember baking with her?’
‘Yes. Morning muffins.’
They shared a smile. That’s what their mum called the carrot cakes she made them for breakfast. Sarah’s gran disapproved of cake for breakfast, so their mum devised a ‘healthy’ muffin instead. It was just carrot cake in another form.
They decided on a marbled effect for their own cake, then popped it in the oven and waited for the delicious baking smell to waft out.
Sarah noticed a young man lurking in the doorway just as Sissy did.
‘Ben!’ Sissy shouted, stomping across the kitchen to drag the boy by his arm towards Sarah. ‘This is my sister, S
arah. This is my boyfriend.’
Sarah smiled. ‘All right Ben.’ She stuck out her hand. ‘It’s nice to meet you.’
‘Nice to meet you too.’
He had a mop of blond hair and a round face, with a wide, gap-toothed smile and gentle brown eyes. And Sissy was right, he was fat.
‘Do you like cake as much as Sissy does?’ Sarah asked, noticing him sniffing the air as their marble cake finished baking.
‘I don’t know how much Sissy likes cake.’
Sarah stifled a laugh. Even after sixteen years with Sissy she sometimes forgot to frame her questions logically. ‘Well that’s true. Do you like cake?’
‘I love it. When’s it ready?’
‘Ben! Don’t be rude,’ Sissy said, smiling at him. ‘You can’t have any until we say. It has to cool first. And then have icing. And then decoration. It’ll be hours.’
Ben looked disappointed to hear this.
‘I’m afraid she’s right, Ben, but we could make some chocolate chip cookies now and it’d be okay to eat a bit of the raw dough before they’re baked, if you’d like?’
‘But you can’t eat any unless you help,’ Sissy said.
Ben washed his hands and together they got to work.
A little later, Kelly stuck her head in the kitchen doorway. ‘Sarah, could we have a quick word before you go?’
‘Is that a hint? Are you trying to get rid of me?’
She laughed. ‘Not at all.’
‘I’ll come now. Sissy, six minutes till the cookies come out, okay? Can you please time it?’
Sissy saluted and peered at her watch.
Ben said, ‘Sissy, can we—’
‘Sssh, Ben. I’m timing.’
‘What’s up?’ Sarah asked as she followed Kelly down the hallway.
‘Let’s go outside.’
That sounded serious. Sarah began to worry for Sissy. Was it about her and Ben? Had something happened between them? How was she going to tell Robin? He’d kill the poor boy and start lecturing Sissy about vaginas.
Kelly took a deep breath when they were well away from any of the residents. ‘I’m afraid I have some bad news. It’s not about Sissy, so don’t worry. But it’s about Whispering Sands. We’ve lost our funding and it looks like we may not be able to carry on.’
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