Authors: H Ryder
Enter at C sitting trot, immobility, halt and salute.
Resolve painted on her face, and a big dollop of triumph too. “So, if you'll excuse me I have a business to run.” And she turns to leave, spinning easily on her patent leather heels, but I’m not even nearly done with her.
“Jess,” I say with an extreme calm I am very proud of, “
loved
the speech by the way, and very moving.” I stand to meet here eye to eye. Even in heels, I stand two fingers taller than her, and I get in her face, “thank you for sending me those photos of Daniel and you last night Jess.” I tell her as she slows trying to pull away from me, I inhale her Prada Candy perfume, intoxicating and too sweet completing the polished persona that’s Jess Stein.
Looking very pleased with herself she smiles again smugly and begins opening her mouth to speak, but I didn’t come for a chat. “Daniel looks so beautiful in one of them, I wanted to thank you.” Jess can’t hide the surprised expression on her face, surprise and confusion in perfect syncrinosity, I get that look a lot. True story.
“I’m going to use it for our invitations.” I manage a smile that could light the room and win me a Bafta, my Mum would be proud. And sweeping my McQueen scarf and jacket from the chair as if to leave, I know she can’t resist knowing.
“You are welcome?” She tells me flashing her long lashes at me, bingo! And flicking her hair from her neck, she looks like she’s won something but is confused at the prize.
One, two…thr……
“What invitations Tharie?” She tilts her head condescendingly like a grown up talking to a child, my bile is up and I so want to kick her arse. And you know I can.
Stay calm and delightful I tell myself, it's the only way to beat evil bitches like her. “Oh, didn’t he tell you, I'm sorry?” I pause for theatrical effect and bat my eyelashes, it’s all about timing you know, any actor will tell you that. “Our engagement invitations.”
I am so proud at my sweetest ever smile, my Mum taught me that. I wink at the clerk smiling uncomfortably at the scene I just created, and spinning on my incredibly gorgeous boots on the marble floor I noisily march to the revolving door trying my best to appear confident. I am shaking uncontrollably on the inside, and if I don’t sit down soon, once my person reaches the outside I’ll be falling over, but I retain my momentum and keep moving forward , and I’m out again in the street, getting into the back of the cab directing him to take me to Mayfair.
“Square Bar please, fast as you can.”
I watch through the cab window, happy I’m leaving Jess standing there, deflated with her mouth agape. Job done, I couldn’t be happier.
Note to self, carry a hip flask.
TC: “Pete, operation take-down complete, on my way, over” so amusing.
PF: “Roger and out team leader.” you got that right, I know who I’d like to roger right now...
Chapter forty-seven, Monday
:
18thnovember2013 – what?
I sit in my Landrover waiting to leave, it's a dark midnight blue sky, bright with stars, and the half-moon gleams twinkle off the early morning white coating of crisp frost. I glance at my phone, no signal, bugger! For how long? That might explain why I haven’t heard from anyone all weekend, there must be mast maintenance going on. Again.
Bloody hell.
I turn the key and the engine bursts to life, a large ploom of black smoke shoots out of the exhaust, bugger! The service long overdue, so many things to do. Shaking and ticking over, I shove it hard into gear and head to the station. Outside the boundaries of my village my phone starts to beep and vibrate in my bag, suggesting I have lots of texts and messages waiting for me to read on the train. Good, some entertainment will be welcome, train journeys are tedious.
On the cold platform, before I embark however I read the front page of the Metro newspaper, held handily by a fellow commuter, 'singer Henry in night club brawl' in hospital recovering.
Bloodygoddamit! True story.
Stunned, I check my phone, I have missed twenty two calls and nearly fifty texts about what happened last night. Mostly from my Mum, I call her.
EC: “God Catharine, it's bloody awful, he just can’t keep his hands to himself can he? Quell surprise he got himself beaten to a pulp, he looks like the wreck of the bloody Hesperus!” Bloody hell.
Note to self, find out what actually
happened
to the Hesperus.
TC: “Mum, he'll be fine, the paper says mild concussion.” I say hopefully, the papers apparently, according to Mum, the source of all knowledge, don't always get their stories straight, who'd have thought?
EC: “That friend of yours, he was here all night with us, when were you going to tell your old Mother you had a relationship? Anyway he arranged everything, totally frantic he couldn’t get hold of you, but very calm about Henry, you didn’t tell me about him Catharine, I was so embarrassed, your own Mother has to find out this way, really Catharine.” She must be feeling better because she's put a full-stop at the end of her first tirade, gaining breath for the next volley, and the criticism has resumed in earnest, next it'll be about my hair...
EC: “And get your hair cut, he looks like a very nice young man, wears a suit and he won’t want a girlfriend with shaggy hair that has hay in it!” Really?
TC: “I’m not his girlfriend Mum.” true bloody sad story.
EC: “Well maybe you could be if you tidied yourself up, wear some colour for heaven’s sake Catharine, you always look so pale and dark, it's not healthy, I bet you’re not eating properly either? Well Daniel, he organised everything, got us all driven about, and we got dinner too.” To my parents, food is very important, and anyone who offers it gets top marks, especially if tea is included, it's the mark of good manners. “And we got tea!” You have to learn to follow conversations with my Mum, she starts in the middle of a story, splices the treads of a tale and changes lanes frequently. Don't
ever
let her drive you anywhere either. Bloody hell.
TC: “Yes Mum.” I feel like a child again, almost every time.
EC: “And when am I going to be graced with your presence? I'm getting withdraw, I’m on my own remember?” Here we go.
TC: “I’ll see you later in the hospital, and tell you about Daniel then.” I'm on my own too, or is it so easy to forget? And, do I have to?
EC: “And eat something, you'll come home with me, I’ll cook you a roast.” Bloody hell.
TC: “I’m vegetarian Mum.” She doesn’t listen to anything I tell her.
EC: “Sorry, I forgot.” Hmm
TC: “See you later then?” I need a hug.
EC: “Get a haircut Catharine” Bloody hell again, I already did, but she won't listen, she needs to see.
TC: “Yes, Mum.” She’s not wrong though, I look like I’ve slept rough, and I pick, an albeit quite small piece of hay from its strands, look at it ruefully, bloody hell again.
Note to self, get a blow dry.
Mothers, love them.
I get the gist from the paper, Henry was caught trying to shag an attractive young woman at 'chateu9' not at all unusual, He's a complete slag. Only the woman’s boyfriend failed to see the funny side and broke Henry's collarbone and a few ribs, he's in hospital, not pressing charges. It's not the side his guitar strap sits either, so that's good news for the tour.
Pete and Liza called and texted me, they’ve been to see him, he's black and blue but OK, apparently it's ‘rock and fucking roll'! Well,
naturally
. He has been moved to a private clinic with an Xbox and a steady stream of young and pretty nurses, it was a request from the artist himself.
Then one from Daniel:
DP: “Tharie, think your phone might be out of signal range, have moved Henry to the family hospital, he will get the best care there in private, He can have pizza delivered there too. Let me know if there's anything else I can do.”
End of messages.
Not even a hello, and can I fuck you later? How rude.
I stride happily from the salon into the bright sunshine of Soho, my hair cut into a blunt shoulder length style, with a chopped fringe by Gail, which has been masterfully returned to its proper state by Ramone. Gail was unavailable, she's in Guatemala.
My nails are painted in Chanel's Rouge Noir and I have bought some new jeans, Frame Denim, so chic. Whistles ankle bar suede’s with the new shape heel and 'just delivered' Tom Ford sunglasses. Feeling rejuvenated I grab a taxi to the hospital to see Henry.
“Tom,” she pauses and rethinks, “your Dad would’ve hated seeing him like this, my Mum whispers to me shaking her head, “I like your hair!”
“Thanks Mum.” I smile. How is he?
“Sleeping, well it’s daylight, he’s only awake at night isn't he? He’s had good treatment here though, please remember to thank your friend, Daniel is it? He was here actually, you just missed him.”
I detected a whiff of Daniels scent as I walked into the room, but assumed it was on his scarf, the one I can’t take off, the one that’s around my throat.
“Really?” I fake disinterest.
“A very nice young man, he brought us a cuppa and a deli menu from that amazing place in Soho, he’s arranged for anything we want to be delivered!” She smiles at me, looking me up and down, in the way only Mum’s can get away with. “Still wearing black Catharine?” Disappointed she fiddles with Henry’s pillows and rearranges his glasses and flowers. I hate hospitals they smell funny, and I don't mean
ha ha
, but it’s nice to see Mum.
“Eve?” A familiar voice from outside in the corridor, the sound of footsteps, “the doctor says he’ll be coming home tomorrow...” it’s Daniel, talking to my Mum, looking hot in a black suit and tie, all business, all gorgeous, all Daniel.
“Thank you
Daniel
,” my Mum says with deliberate inflection so I'm paying attention, the little minx. “I’ll just pop out for some tea.” Very unsubtle, she leaves us just standing staring at each other, with half a cup of steaming tea that's
hers
, getting cold on the window-ledge.
“Tharie.” His mask is back in place and I can’t read the hot passionate person underneath, there’s just him, the gooseberry grey eyes, in a suit looking incredible.
“Thank you,” I tell him sincerely, “for
all
this.” I really want his lips on mine.
“Let me know if you need anything.” It's all he says, and he leaves me standing there, with my new haircut and jeans, all alone. Such a waste.
I do need something I silently tell his retreating form,
you
.
“Communication.” my Mum tells me. “Your Dad and I, we were together twenty years, we
talked
.”
“It’s not easy Mum, I don’t know what I want to tell him, then I see him and anything I’ve rehearsed in my head goes straight out.” I look at the Henry lying there for inspiration, I thought I saw his eyelids flicker, must have been my imagination.
“He is quite something young lady, a nice clean, polite young man.” She gives her approval, if only she knew, doesn’t bear thinking about!
“It’s complicated,” true story.
“What is,
talking
?’ She scolds me.
Then we hear Henry
shhhhhhh’s
us eyes still shut. He’s been pretending to be asleep so he didn’t get involved. Clever boy. He learned all that from me, I’m the clever one, and I do like crime drama.
“He’s a good chap Tharie.” Henry manages, heaving himself more upright, hard to do with all the bloody pillows that Mum has stuffed behind him. “Loves Halo3 too, whipped my arse last night!” Henry, wakes up and smiles a lovely smile, and for a minute, having my family all round me, I am happy and satisfied. Daniel has been here, with them, and I love him for that. What? Hadn't I decided against that? Confused.
“
Talk
to him Catharine, that’s what words are for.” my Mum is right.
“OK Eve Charles, I’ll try.” I tell her, kissing them goodbye, “I’ll give it a try.”
“I could write you a song to help?” He thinks he's funnier than me? Clearly he doesn't recall my lobster joke, silly boy.
An outburst from Mum, “Henry!” That shuts him up immediately. And for me: “you do that.” She has to have the last word.
“I will.” but then so do I. I wink at Henry, and leave them chatting to the nurse Helen, which later my Mother will tell everyone was very good at her job, a very sweet girl from Braintree. And Henry will tell everyone was super sexy in her semi-transparent white dress, and afterward about the lovely date they had.
Bloody hell.
TC: “Daniel,
thank you
.” is all I say.
DP: “Welcome” straight back, nothing else.
TC: “I’m going into the office now” I type, not wanting to solicit a meeting but not wanting to sound cold either, after all, we did know each other, erm
quite
well didn't we?
DP: “Your family are great” gracious platitude, but true.