Authors: Lindsey Kelk
‘I’m sure no one wants to hear about that.’ I waved my hand, waiting for someone else to start eating so I could stuff my face with prosciutto. The service might be super formal but I was happy to see the actual meal was going to be suitably casual.
‘She came home, she made up with Paige, called Nick like a million times but he hasn’t called her back, so now she’s sort of going out with her mate, Charlie, and he wants to start an advertising agency but I think she’s mental to do that when she could be doing this. Oh, and Charlie told her he loved her and she gave him a double thumbs up.’ Amy paused to take a breath. Just one. ‘And, oh, she got kicked out of her flat and then arrested for breaking and entering and fell out of a window, which sounds worse than it is because it’s actually quite a funny story. I swear to God.’
The entire table stared at her in silence.
She raised her glass to her lips, peering at me over the edge. ‘What?’
‘Thanks,’ I said with a bright smile. ‘That was concise.’
‘What?’ she reached over and grabbed a piece of bread, much to Kekipi’s delight. ‘You didn’t break your neck or anything. They didn’t put you in prison; you’re not in Holloway. Or Rampton.’
‘What’s a Rampton?’ Kekipi asked, nothing on his plate and rapture in his eyes.
‘Prison for mentals,’ Amy answered.
‘It’s a maximum-security hospital for the criminally insane,’ I said, piling my plate high with meat. ‘So yeah, we’re all relieved I’m not there.’
‘Yet,’ Amy added.
‘It sounds as though you’ve done a fine job of keeping yourself busy,’ Al said, spooning some olives onto his plate. ‘I’m glad you could fit me in.’
‘It wasn’t a difficult decision,’ I lied, not wanting Al to think I didn’t want to be there. ‘There’s a lot of stuff going on but I’m really excited to be here. Super excited about your project.’
‘As am I,’ he replied. ‘It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time but I needed someone to give me a kick up the backside to get it started.’
‘Kekipi?’ I said.
Al smiled as he swallowed an olive. ‘Of course not, it was you.’
It was me?
‘It was
me
?’
‘Of course you.’ Al set down his knife and fork while Amy and I ploughed through the cheese platter. ‘All those talks we had, you really made me think, Miss Brookes. Life is too short not to take chances when you get to my age and so I’ve decided to go for it.’
‘Go for what, exactly?’ asked Amy, through a mouthful of burrata. ‘If you don’t mind me asking.’
‘Originally, when I asked you to come here, it was to shoot a retrospective of sorts,’ Al explained. ‘Taking those photos of Jane’s clothes, it was wonderful. Really, it was the first time I’ve been able to take pleasure in fashion since I lost her.’
Amy sniffed loudly, pulled a very sad face and then shovelled another forkful of cheese into her gob.
‘I thought what a glorious idea,’ he went on, after offering Amy a consoling pat on the wrist. ‘A beautiful book to catalogue all of my Janey’s glorious clothes, all the fashions she chose for the store, all of the outfits that were important to us. Janey always said that clothes tell a story and what better story to tell?’
‘I think that’s a brilliant idea,’ I said. He was right, I’d never been much of a clotheshorse but I remembered every last detail of every important outfit I had ever worn, good or bad. ‘But, what are you thinking now?’
‘I still want to do the book one day, a full retrospective, the history of it all,’ he replied as the servers reappeared to take away the food, much to my dismay. ‘But looking back made me look forward. I might have seen my best years but I’m not for the knackers’ yard just yet. I’m not quite ready to go gentle into that good night.’
‘What he’s trying to say is, you created a monster,’ Kekipi interrupted. ‘I find him huddled over his desk at two, three in the morning. He won’t go to sleep, he won’t rest in the day, it’s all quite frustrating.’
‘He’s worse than having a wife,’ Al said, scratching his beard and shaking his head. ‘As you know, my son Artie is set on taking over the Bennett’s retail business.’
‘I do know that,’ I confirmed. Artie had been quite clear about his ambitions the last time we had met. He had also been an obnoxious wanker, a trait he did not inherit from his father. ‘So what does that mean for you?’
‘It means starting again,’ he said, the twinkle in his eyes turning into a burn. ‘AJB.’
Amy looked at me, concerned. ‘Isn’t that something you can catch?’
‘The initials stand for Albert and Jane Bennett.’ Al sat back in his chair and unfastened the bottom two buttons on his waistcoat. ‘My new fashion line.’
‘That’s amazing.’ I said, both to Al and the servers who had reappeared carrying lots more food. ‘You’re really going to do it?’
‘Janey always wanted to start her own line but we got so caught up running the shops and then Artie came along and before we knew what was happening, we were old and she got so poorly.’ He nodded to a tall, dark-haired waiter to fill one of the glasses beside his plate with red wine. I wondered how many members of staff were rattling around the place; I had yet to see the same person twice.
‘I was game at the time but once things had moved on,’ Al said, swirling the wine around in his glass, ‘I felt out of step with things. And Artie was quick to confirm that for me, as you can imagine.’
I smiled politely as the waiter filled another of my glasses with red wine and then drained my prosecco, so that I wouldn’t have two full glasses of booze in front of me. Two glasses of wine would be fine. I couldn’t possibly get throw-up drunk when I’d eaten a bakery’s worth of bread and was about to go to town on what looked like the most delicious pasta I’d ever seen. My biggest worry was that my jeans wouldn’t fit in the morning and then I really would have to wear the stretchy green and blue paisley mini skirt I’d found in my suitcase.
‘But looking at Jane’s clothes for the first time in so long, it occurred to me that maybe fashion hasn’t changed that much. Or maybe I’m so old that my eye has come back in style, I’m not sure.’ He spun a forkful of tagliatelle into his mouth, miraculously missing his beard. ‘The idea of putting together a history of Bennett’s made me think that we should be documenting this new venture from the very beginning. And that’s why I need you.’
I felt myself flush a little, whether it was from the wine, the compliment, or the fact that it was still almost thirty degrees out and I was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt, I wasn’t sure.
‘Not that I’m trying to talk myself out of the job,’ I said pushing my pasta around the plate. ‘But you do know I’m not a real photographer, don’t you? You could get anyone for this. Like – like a proper one.’
The fact that I could not actually name any proper photographers only confirmed to me that I was not one.
‘I know you may not be as experienced as some photographers,’ he corrected me, ‘but I’ve seen your work and, more importantly, I’ve seen your passion. Do you remember that first day we met on the beach?’
I thought back. ‘The day I wasn’t watching where I was going and fell flat on my arse?’
‘The day you were so engrossed in your pictures that you didn’t even see me sat right in front of you,’ Al said. ‘You have a talent, Tess. And what’s more, you bloody well make me laugh. I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have poking around in my business with a camera. I don’t want a gang of strangers documenting my every move. I’ve thought about this. I only want people I trust in on this, people I like.’
‘And there’s nothing I would love more,’ I said, meaning every word. ‘But I don’t want to let you down. I love taking pictures, I just don’t know if I’m experienced enough to do you justice.’
Al reached across the table to take my hand. ‘You are so determined to deny your passion. Why would you wish your life away on anything other than the thing you love?’
‘Good question.’ Amy spoke from behind her wine glass, her eyes rolling skyward.
‘Amy hates my job,’ I explained. ‘In case you were wondering.’
‘I don’t hate her job,’ she said, turning to address the gents. ‘I hate that she has no life. I hate that I’ll call her on a Saturday morning to go to the pictures that night and she’s in the office and I hate that I call her on Sunday to see if she wants to go for lunch and she’s in the office. Do you know she missed her own surprise birthday party two years ago? Tell them why.’
‘They don’t want to know why,’ I said.
‘Tell us why immediately,’ Kekipi countered.
‘My boss asked me to work on a special project,’ I said, flashing Amy a warning which she duly ignored. ‘That’s all.’
‘She cat-sat his incontinent Persian for three bloody days,’ she shouted, slapping the table. ‘Over her own birthday.’
I rubbed a hand over my face, only to get a palmful of smudged mascara. Brilliant.
‘Professionalism and self-sacrifice are great strengths,’ Al said, taking my panda hand in his. ‘But perhaps it wouldn’t hurt for you to take a little bit more time to see what makes you really happy, work out what lights the fire.’
He let go of my hand and patted it lightly, before turning his attention to the rest of the table.
‘So, Amy.’ She perked up at the mention of her name like a neglected puppy. ‘I’m assuming you haven’t been assisting my favourite photographer for very long. Tell me, what were you doing before she convinced you to run away to Milano?’
‘Me and Tess grew up together and then we went to uni and I was going to be a teacher but I hated it and then I was engaged to this guy Dave who was lovely but it didn’t work out and I probably should have broken it off earlier but you don’t really know until you know, do you?’
Al and Kekipi stared at her, shell-shocked once more. Amy took a deep breath and started again.
‘So we broke up just before the wedding, actually, but he’s fine, he’s engaged again and she’s having a baby and I’ve been working retail mostly but at the moment I’m in between jobs, so Tess said, come to Milan and help, so I thought, why not go to Milan and help! So yeah, that’s it really. Any other questions?’
I sipped my wine and sat back in my chair, smiling at my shoes, while Al and Kekipi stared at my best friend, completely speechless. There were only three things to know when dealing with Amy. One, never wear anything dry-clean only, two, never order anything you weren’t prepared to share and three, never, ever, ask her a question.
Once she got started, she did not stop.
‘Al’s right though,’ Amy said, following me along the hallway, Mary Janes in one hand, a full glass of red wine in the other. I couldn’t bear to look in case she was spilling it on the carpet. I wasn’t her mother; she wasn’t my problem.
Oh God, I thought, fidding around in my pocket for the suite key, she so was.
‘You’re so dead set on doing what you think is the right thing you’ve actually convinced yourself it’s what you want.’
I breathed in through my nose and reminded myself I was only moments away from locking the door to my bedroom, with Amy on the other side of that door.
‘I’m not saying starting an agency wouldn’t be exciting, I’m not saying Charlie isn’t exciting,’ she said with a look that suggested that was exactly what she was saying. ‘I’m only thinking about how excited you were when you got your first camera. You were so happy. I can’t think of anything else you’ve ever loved that much. Apart from me. And
The Little Mermaid
.’
‘It is a genuinely good film with an important message,’ I replied, unlocking the door to our suite. Someone had been in to straighten up. There was nothing I didn’t love about this place.
‘Yes, I know! It’s about pursuing your passions.’ Amy rapped me on the side of the head. ‘Ariel takes a chance and risks everything to get what she loves.’
‘No it isn’t,’ I said, pushing her away and kicking off my Primark flats. ‘It’s about determination. It’s about knowing what you want and refusing to give up on it.’
Amy glugged her wine and attempted to place the empty glass on a side table and missed. ‘So you’re saying that working eighty hours a week is the same as selling your voice to a sea witch?’
I picked the glass up and placed it down carefully. ‘So you’re saying that trading my voice for legs is the same as turning my back on my career to fanny about trying to be a photographer?’
‘She’s got legs!’ Amy yelled as I turned and walked straight into my bedroom. ‘Human legs! And we’ve only got three days!’
Closing the door behind me, I undid the top button on my jeans before it pinged off across the room and broke something. It would have been great to get some advance warning that there were going to be four courses at dinner before I stuffed my face with half a loaf of bread and hoovered up all the pasta. Not that the steak that followed wasn’t delicious. Or the tiramisu. I just didn’t need to eat again for another week.
‘Tess!’ Amy pounded at my door. So much for peace and quiet.
I opened it an inch, peeping through the crack.
‘Me and Kekipi are going out for a drink, do you want to come?’ Amy stood smiling sweetly with the living room phone in her hand.
I did want to go.
I wanted to ask Kekipi what was going on with Nick. Had I really seen him in the garden earlier or did I need to book myself in for a CAT scan? All though dinner, every time I’d try to raise the subject, Kekipi had moved the conversation on to something else. But now it was late, I was tired, I had more mascara on the back of my hands than on my face and so it was a no.
‘You go,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘Don’t take him to a karaoke bar though, I’m warning you.’
‘You’re sure?’ she asked, looking more than a bit sad. ‘Come on, we haven’t had a night out in ages.’
‘I’ve got to be up in the morning,’ I reasoned. Al and I had made breakfast plans to talk business and I didn’t think rolling in, stinking of late night McDonald’s with sick in my hair would be a good way to start. Not that I’d ever done that. Cough. ‘I wouldn’t be a lot of fun. You go and bond with Kekipi, keep him out of trouble.’
She saluted and leaned in to plant a jammy goodnight kiss on my cheek. ‘Understood, so get some sleep. Love you.’