by Zoë Folbigg
‘It won’t be long, I’m sure,’ said Daniel, having no better idea of how long it would be than Olivia did.
She took a pen and piece of paper out of her saddle bag and started writing notes about Sofia’s birthday party. The yeses. The nos. The party bags. The food allergies. The timings. The number-eight candle. Then she started sketching a dress – a party dress she might like to make Sofia, that wouldn’t be fit for any swimming pool party, but that didn’t matter, Sofia would love it and wear it over and over. It had ruched shoulders and a tiered skirt. Draping and a sash. She hadn’t sketched a child’s dress in a long time – she’d been so lost in ideas for her own new collection, inspired by the majolica of Ibiza, and had spent much of the past month drawing in her studio, recovering and rewiring her brain while Daniel brought her cups of tea, listened to her ideas and cooked dinner – but this party dress was a brilliant tonic for waiting-room nerves.
She’d love it!
Fifteen minutes later Les came back through the double doors, back from the Other Side, and put on his coat ceremoniously. He cleared his throat, as if he were about to make a speech, and Olivia saw the mother and daughter sitting opposite her shrink a little in their chairs.
‘A few of you know me… well, you know I like to joke. Some might say I’m a bit of a character.’ He rose on the balls of his feet a little.
Wanker.
Shh!
Oh god, he really is going to do this.
The man reading Felix Francis looked up.
‘And, well, I’ve been here every day for the past six weeks, so some of you are probably tired of my jokes by now… my “unique” sense of humour as you call it, eh…?’ He turned around to see if any of the radiographers were in the waiting room, but they had gone back to adjust machinery, shells and beds.
‘But today’s me last session. And… well… it’s been a bit of a journey, I’d say.’ Les brushed his eye with a knuckle. Olivia wasn’t sure if he were joking or being serious, but her left hand clasped Daniel’s right as the notebook teetered on the magazine on her knee. ‘And I can’t fault the staff. Really. Marvellous people. Everyone’s been marvellous.’
Oh.
Olivia felt a bit bad.
‘So best of luck everyone. Wherever you are in your treatment or whatever you’re being treated for.’ Graham came back into the waiting room as a nurse walked through from the opposite corridor, carrying a jug of squash. They both stopped, realising this was a monumental moment for one man. ‘I just want to say… god bless, you couldn’t be in better hands with this team, I’m… I’m…’ Les’ watery eyes were magnified further by his thick lenses, as he became lost for words.
Graham came to his rescue. ‘Ahhh, do come back and see us Les – just visiting, mind!’ he added, his tiny eyes twinkling. ‘There’s the Macmillan stand on the way out and we’re always having cake sales and events – do come back for cake, won’t you?’ Les nodded, unable to speak, finally silent. He buttoned up his coat and looked to his comrade in the wheelchair, who had fallen asleep. His wife kept her gaze on her knitting. The silver-haired friends carried on reading their book and magazine.
Daniel put his arm around Olivia and gave Les an encouraging nod, only Les didn’t notice it as he fastened his coat and tried not to cry.
‘Best of luck, eh,’ Daniel said, with a warm smile, wondering whether Les had anyone helping him through his radiotherapy treatment. What had happened to Barb?
The mother and daughter looked up from their phones at Daniel, then back down again. The man reading Felix Francis got up to go to the toilet. And Graham told Olivia that they were ready for her now.
Thirty
June 2002
Tokyo, Japan
At a plastic galley table in a bustling Shibuya sushi bar, Mimi, Nate and Nik perched on tiny high stools, while Daniel and Olivia sat opposite. All of them were watching the carousel of aburi salmon nigiri, coriander seared tuna and mixed maki whizz past on colourful plates at one end of the table, like cats being teased by a ball of wool. Tommy had sacked off dinner and gone home after rehearsals to be with his Japanese girlfriend Kaoru. Tommy was a man of few words anyway, so his absence was barely notable.
A petite girl with a timid face approached the group, her shiny pockmarked skin reflecting Shibuya’s neon lights outside, as she handed Mimi a shirt it looked like she had just bought for herself.
‘Can I give you this?’ she asked in a sweet and uncertain voice.
Mimi looked at the girl, her hair in bunches and braces on her teeth.
‘Sorry?’ Mimi asked affably.
‘Can I give you this?’ she giggled, and then turned to her friends who were standing in an encouraging huddle outside the restaurant, peeping through the gaps between bright stickers on the window.
‘If you’re sure? Yeah!’
‘I am,’ the girl nodded politely.
‘Well, thank you,’ smiled Mimi, who jumped down from her stool and gave the girl a hug. The girl stood awkwardly, then giggled, nodded, and ran back to her friends. Nate and Nik didn’t take their eyes off the conveyor belt of food, like cheetahs about to make their kill. All too used to Mimi being approached by shy teens and Harajuku girls, wanting to bestow gifts on their bass player.
Daniel rubbed the small of Olivia’s back as they both watched the scene in awe. Everything about Japan was awesome. Daniel had been in the country for five weeks already, preparing for and covering the Japan and South Korea World Cup for The Guardian.
He’d started in Tokyo, like most of the press pack, where they dispersed to different stadia and Daniel reported on England versus Sweden at Saitama, and drank sake until he was sick. From there he flew to Sapporo in the north, where he saw England beat Argentina and visited a hot spring that helped lift the demons of the sake. In Osaka he struggled to report anything exciting about a 0-0 draw against Nigeria, but immersed himself in the local art of kuidaore, or ‘eating until you drop’. And from Osaka he took a bullet train to Niigata, and found solace in a stadium that looked like a swan, before heading back to Tokyo, where Olivia joined him for a few days’ downtime, catching up with Mimi and the band who were touring again.
*
Their reunion at Haneda airport was feverish – Olivia dotted Daniel’s face with frenzied kisses. They hadn’t been apart for more than three days since Olivia had returned to London to be with him. Five weeks of intense work, intense travel and intense partying had been a drag for Daniel, despite the excitement of the World Cup. He missed Olivia hugely.
‘Does this happen often?’ Olivia asked, seeing how blasé Mimi’s bandmates were about the encounter.
‘All the time,’ sighed singer Nate, as he looked something between bewildered and boastful. ‘You can’t walk down the street without girls bestowing clothes, cuddly toys or Pocky on Mimi…’
‘What’s Pocky?’ asked Daniel. He hadn’t come across it yet.
‘I have Pocky!’ declared Mimi, eyes wide as she remembered the couple who had given her a packet at Ginza station this morning. She took a box of chocolate covered sticks out of her bag and handed them to Olivia.
‘Hmmm, maybe for dessert…’ she said, eyeing the box, before looking back at the prawn tempura on the carousel.
‘It’s lucky I’m a Japanese size,’ said Mimi. ‘I don’t have to pack much when we tour here as my wardrobe is easily supplemented.’
‘That’s handy – nothing fits me in these shops!’ Olivia laughed.
Mimi turned to Daniel as she nimbly scooped up the seaweed starter with her chopsticks, strands of translucent green that looked like they could be glass.
‘How are you finding it here, you know, working?’
‘I bloody love it! It’s incredible.’
Mimi nodded.
‘But I’ve been in a bit of a football bubble. It’s just a load of press, from all around the world, asking the same questions to these absolute stars we’re all in awe of. But because it’s work, I’ve felt like I’m on
a school trip. Until now.’
He pulled Olivia into him.
‘All these cool things I wanted to show you.’ Daniel turned to Olivia and remembered the flower fields outside Sapporo, bubbles of vivid purple and pink moss phlox as far as the eye could see. The sight of it made him want to tuck his legs in and bounce across it like in a dream. ‘You’d have loved hiking in Hokkaido.’
‘I knowwwww…’ she groaned.
Olivia hadn’t been able to justify the cost of all those internal train trips and flights on top of the international one, or to take time off work for the whole six weeks Daniel would be there, from the team training camps in mid-May to the final in Yokohama in ten days’ time. He’d even missed the first anniversary of them getting together, but booked a table at The Ivy and arranged for Jim and Wesley to take Olivia there for dinner.
*
When Olivia left Milan to be with Daniel, two weeks after their kiss at the San Siro, she moved into the Tooting Bec flat he shared with Jim and Wesley, and spent her days at the local lido, walking to Wandsworth or Wimbledon Common, or at the V&A, seeking inspiration in galleries and historical gowns.
At the Radical Fashion exhibition that autumn, Olivia got talking to another museum-goer, a languid blonde called Phoebe, a London College of Fashion alumni who was looking for a print and embellishment designer to join her expanding team at her up-and-coming label. Olivia and Phoebe immediately clicked: Phoebe’s vision and energy were uplifting and infectious, and reminded Olivia of the person she wanted to be; Phoebe was fascinated by Olivia’s fashion heritage and everything she had experienced at the houses in Milan.
Phoebe offered Olivia a job at her label, East of Eden, mostly in the Shoreditch studio but sometimes helping out in their Carnaby Street store, and Olivia didn’t hesitate in saying yes. It felt like a lucky second chance. She had taken a gamble going back to London, giving up her job at Etro, but Bernardo – a deep romantic who loved the story of the boy at the bottom of the world – understood and said the door would always be open for Olivia. Having met Daniel, Nancy and Maria understood too – he was much lovelier, much more grounded, than any boy she’d brought home before. They could tell that night over dinner how in love with their daughter Daniel was; they suspected it wouldn’t be long before Olivia felt it too, and they knew she would be OK in London with Daniel by her side. The move, and the new job, felt right.
At the studio Olivia got stuck in. She loved the smell of the workshop, the British banter and sense of humour, the rhythmic hammering of the sewing machines, and the comfort they brought her when she thought about being in her baby basket on Mamma Due’s table. London finally felt like home too. A different sort of world to Milan: more exciting. Edgier than Etro.
She missed Daniel terribly whenever he was away for a couple of nights with work, but Jim and Wesley kept her company. They took her to the cinema and out for dinners, never harassing her to drink or share a bottle, respecting that this was the way she wanted to live her life. Her job at East of Eden was enough to keep her mind occupied, inspired and excited. Life with Daniel, Jim and Wesley – and Mimi between tours – was wonderful, and she finally saw through sober eyes, all that London had to offer.
Olivia booked tickets for Mamma Due to visit. She’d never been to London before but the V&A was hosting a Versace retrospective over the winter, and Olivia knew how happy it would make Maria to see some of the pieces she had stitched from the archives on display.
After a few months, Mimi decided to rent out her Brixton apartment, given she would be touring for much of the following year, so Daniel and Olivia happily moved in to the Victorian maisonette on Brixton High Road with its parquet flooring and views out onto the Academy. The flat in Tooting Bec had become a bit crowded for all of Olivia, Jim and Wesley’s beauty products, but they still met up. Jim was launch editor of Popcorn!, a new celebrity weekly that was flying off the shelves, while Wesley had qualified as a teacher, and Jim took great pleasure in flirtatiously calling him ‘Mr De Boer’.
Olivia had never missed Daniel as much as she did while he was in Japan, and their reunion, their stolen week together in the Far East, only cemented what she knew – that he was the best thing that ever happened to her.
*
‘How’s my flat?’ Mimi asked over dessert of coconut mochi rice, green tea and Pocky.
‘Great,’ said Daniel. ‘So easy to get to gigs!’ That wasn’t Mimi’s point, but Daniel and Olivia had seen Neil Young, Basement Jaxx and The Strokes since they had moved in. ‘We only have to cross the road, soooo cool!’
‘Yeah, I meant how’s it looking? Has the mad lady next door died yet?’
‘Hmmm, don’t think so,’ Daniel mused, thinking of when he last saw Mrs Macdonald walking the stairwell in her nightie and banging a broom against the railings.
‘Did I tell you about The Pogues at Christmas?’ Olivia asked Mimi, stroking Daniel’s cheek as she remembered the reverie of a ‘Fairytale of New York’. It was a turning point for her. She had settled in at East of Eden and found her own rhythm – commuting with Daniel until they had to change tube lines at King’s Cross; meeting up at galleries or the theatre or cinema after work; grabbing dinner from the coolest new eateries. They had learned to live together, to make ossobuco together, to argue well and make up passionately, feeling stronger and more unified every day. She realised it as Shane MacGowan swayed on stage – that she was blissfully happy in London and that it was the first time she enjoyed the truly giddy spoils of feeling drunk and carefree, despite being sober.
‘Oh, they play every Christmas!’ Mimi rolled her eyes. ‘But yes, you did,’ she said, squeezing Olivia’s hand across the table and feeling truly happy for her that she had found a good egg and was seemingly settling down. Life on the road hadn’t been conducive to romance for Mimi. Nate, Tommy and even Nik had girlfriends now – but since Mimi dumped Nik’s brother Tate, she had been single. Only shy Japanese girls seemed confident enough to approach the pop star. Men were too in awe of her on stage and assumed she was with one of the band.
‘Right, karaoke?’ suggested Mimi, while Nate settled up. Olivia beamed. Daniel groaned.
*
‘“Islands in the Stream”, my darling?’ Olivia asked.
‘No,’ waved Daniel, bottle of Asahi in one hand as his cheeks went pink. ‘Mimi’s got all the harmonies. Sing with her!’
Daniel, Olivia, Mimi, Nate and Nik huddled in their Hello Kitty themed room at the karaoke bar on Udagawacho, with three Japanese businessmen they’d never met before.
Mimi was already scrolling through the songlist. A pint-sized connoisseur of karaoke, the businessmen weren’t going to get a look-in with Mimi on the mic, but they were genial and welcoming, and kept ordering bottles of Yamazaki whisky for everyone.
Mimi belted out ‘Hanging on the Telephone’ by Blondie, one hand on her small hip, while Olivia, looming tall next to her, accompanied, laughing more than she was singing.
Nate swayed and Nik drummed, two fingers on the low table, while the businessmen slung their arms around them and topped up everyone’s glasses.
As Daniel’s face got hotter and hotter, he looked at Olivia and realised. This woman. Singing in front of him. He loved every fibre of her. Her truth. Her curiosity. Her sass and her smile. She was laughing again, carefree. Only not like the girl in the cafe in Sydney because that girl was miserable. She was truly happy now, lemonade in one hand, mic in the other.
‘Hangin’ on the telephone…’ Olivia and Mimi harmonised, badly. Olivia was not the performer Daniel had first thought she was on that podium, jiving to Chuck Berry.
At 11.59 p.m. Daniel tipped the scales between reserve and recklessness, Yamazaki outweighing any shyness.
‘My turn!’ he called, standing, smoothing down his T-shirt, crumpled from life on the road.
‘Get out!’ gasped Mimi, her jaw dropping.
‘What?!’ Olivia hollered, perplexed. She wasn’t drunk like the others but she felt h
appier, more invincible, than she felt anyone possibly could. She and Mimi bowed to Daniel’s surprise statement, while he pulled up his jeans, strode over to the television, and pressed some buttons. The synth strings of a bad backing track to Dean Martin’s That’s Amore struck up and everyone sat down and cheered.
Daniel held the mic like an old Rat Packer as a tinny chorus of women opened up the singing on the video, echoing in the room and making everyone laugh. As he took his cue, he looked quite the crooner, to everyone’s shock. The businessmen looked at Nate, Nik, Mimi and Olivia and howled with laughter.
‘Outrageous!’ one shouted.
‘Yes sir!’ said another.
Daniel sang off-key but with newfound confidence, looking from the screen to Olivia, a whirligig of their relationship spinning in his mind as his audience echoed ‘That’s amore…’ back at him.
He saw her, looking up from a campervan in a gold and dusty haze on the highway. He saw the opulent tiles of a train station departures hall, spinning in a circle as their lips first touched. He felt the heat of the fireworks and the roar of a crowd in the San Siro, so he kept on singing. He saw Olivia and Mimi, swaying in unison at one end of the cushioned seating. The businessmen at the other started too, although they were going the opposite way, so they bashed into Nate and Nik in the middle like the metal balls of a Newton’s cradle.
‘I can’t believe you’re doing this!’ yelled Olivia as she clapped and Daniel kept on singing, finding his stride with every ‘That’s amore…’ his audience replied, an octave too high and out of tune.
‘You’re a natural!’ shouted Nate, to hysterics from the businessmen.
Daniel nodded in feigned arrogance, knowing he was terrible as he sang with a twinkle. During the choral interlude, Daniel picked up a fresh bottle of beer and took a big swig while Olivia mouthed, ‘I’m so proud of you’ and he gave her a wink before rejoining Dean for the last verse.
That last sip of Asahi made it harder to read the lyrics on the screen, but Daniel decided to get creative with them anyway.