by Hannah Doyle
‘You’re a fool. Speak to you soon, okay?’
Laughing, I hang up and then switch my phone off. Off!
Zach opens the front door just a fraction and peers out.
‘I wasn’t expecting you until later,’ he says, reaching out and pulling me inside before shutting the door. It’s quite dark in his hallway and I blink as my eyes adjust to the lack of light. Zach is wearing a pair of joggers and an old T-shirt covered in paint.
‘Surprise!’ I grin, enjoying the view of Zach off-duty. ‘Our date starts now. Unless you’re busy?’
‘I am actually,’ he says, flashing me that smile and leading me upstairs.
We sidestep an old rolled-up carpet on the landing and head up to the top floor. It’s much brighter up here, with natural light flooding through from the huge windows in the roof.
‘This has been a room of doom for too long. Full of my unfinished work, boxes of crap and cat wee-stained carpet thanks to the last owners. I ripped the carpet up when I finished work the other day and found these,’ he says, tapping the old wooden floorboards with his foot. ‘I’ve been working on it since.’
‘It looks incredible already.’
He grins. ‘Wanna help me finish the floor? Or do we need to be somewhere for our U date? Because I’m definitely going to need a shower first.’
‘Right here is where we need to be and hell yes I’d like to help. Do I get a go on that sander?’
‘Yes ma’am. I’ve got some spare gloves, too.’
I’m whizzing round with the floorboard sander like Carole Smillie in Changing Rooms while Zach neatens up the edges by hand.
‘I had no idea you were into DIY,’ he laughs, watching me.
‘Me neither. It’s quite satisfying though, isn’t it?’ I waft the T-shirt I borrowed from Zach before I started sanding, hot from the effort.
‘I need to get a picture of this,’ Zach says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. ‘Don’t think I’ve ever seen you wearing so few colours.’
I look down at the outfit I borrowed from him before I started helping out. Grey joggers, grey T-shirt.
‘I’m like fifty shades of grey,’ I laugh.
‘You did manage to keep your fluorescent yellow hair bobble in, though.’
‘What’s a DIY outfit without a scrunchie to add colour?’ I say, sneezing from all the dust we’ve kicked up before striking a pose. I know this is going to sound ridiculous but one of the many perks of having Zach in my life is that he captures brilliant pictures of us. He has one on his screen saver of me at the film festival we went to and it’s the most flattering picture ever. I love scrolling through his camera roll sometimes, smiling at the snapshots of our time together. Zach holds his phone up to take a photo now and …
Hang on.
‘NO! Put that away!’ I say, suddenly remembering.
‘What do you mean, no? You look adorable.’
I rush to bat the phone out of his hand and stuff it into the pocket of the joggers I’ve borrowed.
‘Thank you for the compliment but our U date has already begun.’
‘It has?’ Zach looks around the his empty top floor, ever so slightly underwhelmed.
‘U for unplugged. We’re going off grid for the next twenty-four hours. I know I can be on my phone a lot. Mostly it’s work but sometimes I just find myself scrolling for no reason and the next thing I know it’s the end of the day and I’ve racked up a frankly unacceptable screen time tally.’
Zach’s eyes crease up with a smile as I talk.
‘You mean like when we’re watching a real-life drama on TV and you insist on Googling it before we’ve finished the programme because you’re too impatient to wait and see what happens?’
‘Exactly.’
‘Or when we go out for dinner and your phone eats before we do?’
‘Ha ha, yes.’
‘Or when …’
‘I think we’ve had plenty of examples now, thanks. We can all agree that I’m on my phone a fair bit and for the next twenty-four hours, it’s going to be you and me. No distractions.’
‘How will we fill our time?’ he jokes, his voice low.
‘I’m glad you asked that. Follow me.’
Downstairs in the hallway is the bag I dumped when I arrived and I grab it now, opening it up so Zach can look inside.
‘Board games?’
‘Bingo! I’ve brought loads because there is strictly no TV allowed on an unplugged date.’
Zach rubs his hands together. ‘All right then, but do you promise not to get grumpy when you lose?’
‘What do you mean, when I lose?’
‘I’m very good at board games.’
‘Oh you just wait, sucker!’
It feels strange not reaching for my phone every ten minutes. I’ll pick it up with no purpose, lighting up the screen to check the time and then getting lost down a social media rabbit hole. Or constantly checking messages to make sure I’ve replied to clients and feel totally on top of work at the flower shop. Plus I’ve been so excited about the new venture with Nat that I feel like I’m on my phone even more than usual at the moment.
Ordinarily my fingers would automatically have grabbed for my phone while Zach sets our first game up, seeing it as downtime I could mindlessly fill with something unnecessary like a time lapse video of someone having their eyelashes tinted, but I’d have missed this very cute scene if my phone was on. We’re playing Jamaica first and while Zach lines up a row of miniature pirate ships and stacks up piles of bounty, he’s also muttering pirate phrases to himself.
‘Fire in the hole!’
A smile spreads across my face as I settle into a spot opposite him on the living room floor, pouring red wine into glasses and feeling hella cosy.
It gets very competitive very quickly and when I realise that Zach is on course to win the game, I default to trash-talking.
‘You scallywag!’
‘Very pirate appropriate. You scurvy dog,’ Zach grins.
Quick, think of more nautical curses Alice! ‘You … poop deck.’
Hmm.
Zach’s laughing now. ‘You landlubber.’
‘What’s that mean? I can’t even google it because our phones are banned.’
‘It means you’re a lily-livered land-dweller who can’t cope with the seas.’
‘Oh now you’re for it. Just because you’re winning doesn’t mean you have to gloat!’
‘You started this! I’m going to the loo, please try not to cheat while I’m gone.’
I consider cheating for the entire time Zach’s away but manage to have a word with myself. When he walks back in the first thing I notice is that he’s fashioned an eye patch out of loo roll over one of his glasses lenses and I almost spit my wine out from laughing so hard.
‘Oh. My. Days,’ I say between gulps of laughter.
‘Ahoy me hearty,’ he says with a flourish. ‘Did you cheat?’
‘No I did not! Like your eye patch.’
‘Thanks,’ Zach grins, rubbing his hands together. ‘Prepare to lose, Alice!’
As we get back into the game, uninterrupted by the world, I realise that in spite of my attempts to thwart his winning streak, I’d actually be happy not to win right now. With Zach, it feels like taking part is the most fun. So when I do lose, and when Zach spends an unacceptable time gloating, I pour us both an on-theme rum and immerse myself in the feeling that I’m extremely happy in his company.
‘Shall I cook?’ I ask, realising that it’s getting late and we’ve only consumed alcohol on our U date so far.
Zach fails to disguise a nervous frown.
‘OMG it was one oyster,’ I laugh, pretending to be affronted. ‘Besides, I brought food.’
‘Well then why don’t I cook it while you clear the game away?’
‘Fine,’ I say. ‘I was going to make a mushroom stroganoff and I’ve put all the ingredients in your fridge already.’
I linger in Zach’s living room w
hile he cooks, absorbing all the things in his house which I so rarely get to see. The patches of sample paint colours he’s painted above the radiator. The framed poster above his sofa which looks like a picture of Mount Fuji. We spend most of the time at mine but I enjoy being in his space, and finding out more about him from the trinkets scattered around the house.
‘Dinner’s up,’ he shouts, calling me into the kitchen where he’s lit candles on the table and pulled up a couple of mismatched dining chairs. ‘I have big plans for this place,’ he says, watching me take it in. ‘It’s just a matter of getting it all done.’
‘Well, you know who to call when you need some more DIY doing,’ I grin.
We sit opposite each other, scooping up forkfuls of rice and chatting easily about life, fully absorbed in each other’s company and feeling seriously content to be having a lazy weekend together.
If this is what my thirties is going to look like, I’m pretty sure I’ll enjoy it.
Volunteering
Zach
As the tube creaks and grinds towards my stop, I replay the voice note from Alice through my earbuds. ‘You’ve got this! I’m so proud of you.’ She’s my own personal pep-talk. Being the centre of attention is never going to be my favourite part of the job but as I make my way to the gallery in Whitechapel, I realise I feel much more confident today than I did before my exhibition at the start of the summer. How much of that has to do with Alice and how much is down to me? She’s pushed me and challenged me in ways I’d never expected but I know that a lot it has come from me, too. I feel capable of this, today, in the same way that I feel capable of so much now.
Octavia pulls open the door before I have a chance to knock and hugs me like we’re long-lost siblings, a cloud of her perfume filling the air.
‘Welcome to Goldbury’s, we’re thrilled to have you. Safe journey down from Sheffield?’
‘Thanks Octavia, I really appreciate this.’
I suck in a breath as I look around the gallery. With its polished wooden floors and spotlights suspended from the ceiling, throwing light onto the art on the all-white walls, it feels intimidating. At the back of the long, narrow room is a makeshift stage with a couple of soft chairs centred around a microphone stand. I feel a rush of pride as I see my own art hanging around the stage. Here, in a respected art gallery in London, is my stuff. It’s exactly what I’ve dreamed of since I was a kid, lying flat on the beach near Nonna’s house, drawing pictures in the sand.
I wasn’t in the best headspace when Octavia got in touch shortly after we met at that ping pong date. Alice had ended things and I was all over the place, but I knew what Octavia was suggesting would be a brilliant boost for my career. I’d said yes, determined to throw myself into focusing on work. Now that I’m actually here, so much has changed. Alice and I are good. Great. And while she’s back in Sheffield working her butt off with Natalie tonight, I’m here in London doing a ‘meet the artist’ event at Octavia’s gallery. Octavia’s currently shouting ‘THINK OF THE AESTHETICS’ at a couple of gallery staff as they set out seats around the stage while her PA, Iris, shows me into the staff kitchen out back.
‘Don’t mind Octavia, she can be a bit …’ Iris raises her eyebrows instead of finishing her sentence, her comforting Mancunian lilt putting me at ease.
I grin. ‘She can a bit, can’t she? How long have you worked here?’
‘Since I graduated two years ago,’ she says, handing me a cup of tea. ‘I studied art at Camberwell and Octavia came along to my year’s grad show, that’s how I got to know her. I would love to be in your position one day, my own art on display in a place like this.’
‘So you work here during the day and paint in your spare time?’
‘Yeah. I’m at the point where I’m panicking, like, will my work ever be good enough or will I end up working a job like this forever?’
‘I can relate. I used to work at a coffee shop and paint in the crap light of my flatshare as soon as I finished work.’
‘Did you really? I’m a bit scared that I’ll never get to where I want to be, you know?’
‘Try not to put yourself under too much pressure? If it helps, I’d be happy to take a look at your work? Maybe help connect you with some other up and coming artists?’
‘Seriously? I’d be honoured.’
‘I know what it’s like to feel nervous about what’s around the corner,’ I say, handing her my card.
Octavia bustles in, grabs a red lipstick from her bag and announces that guests have started to arrive. ‘You’re drinking tea? Iris, there’s champagne on the gallery floor.’
Iris looks panicked and I step in, saying: ‘There’s never a bad time for a brew.’
‘Honestly, you’re just like Dylan. You can take the boy out of Yorkshire …’ Octavia rolls her eyes. ‘How are the nerves?’
‘Surprisingly okay.’
‘Excellent. Let me run you through the plans. I’ll make a liddle introduction first and then you’ll join me on stage and I’ll invite questions from the audience. After the Q&A we’ll move on to a more informal meet and greet, just the usual mingling and chatting. You know the drill. We’ve got fifty guests coming tonight, big names from the art industry, clients here at the gallery and some of your fans. It’s going to be a boon!’
A ‘boon’? Iris and I exchange bemused glances.
‘Are we ready?’
I set my mug of tea down and a bit splashes over the edges onto the kitchen counter. Am I ready? The nerves are there, just waiting to take over, but I remember what Alice said and steady myself with a deep breath.
‘Ready,’ I nod.
The evening is filled with interesting questions which I manage to answer without faltering, thank god. Back at my first exhibition I felt like an imposter, a guy who’d lucked out on making a career out of his passion somehow through chance. Now I see that it was all down to hard work and, even though I know there will still be days when I doubt myself and my talent, I am a success and I should be proud of myself. I’m still buzzing with the energy of the room and, as daunting as it was, there were some funny moments too. During the Q&A one guest asked a completely non-related question about what I like to do in my spare time and we started down an Agatha Christie rabbit hole which Octavia finally managed to steer back towards the art. I found myself not wanting to leave as the final guests said their goodbyes.
‘That was amazing,’ trills Octavia, her heels tap-tapping as she walks back into the kitchen with Iris following close behind. ‘Zach, I’ve sold three of your pieces tonight. Three!’
‘Wow, yeah, that is awesome,’ I say, bowled over.
Octavia hands us all a glass of champagne and the three of us are taking a sip when Dylan strides into the gallery. We haven’t seen each other since that disastrous ping pong night and I tense up instinctively.
‘The man of the hour,’ he says, clapping me on the back. ‘How did it go?’
‘Good thanks.’
‘Listen man, I’m sorry again about all that …’
‘Yeah, me too,’ I reply. ‘Shall we just draw a line under it?’
‘I’d like that. Octavia and I are heading out for drinks now, do you guys want to come?’ He asks me and Iris.
‘I’ve got a friend’s birthday thing,’ Iris says, grabbing her bag.
‘Thanks for the invite but I can’t tonight,’ I say. There’s only one person I want to celebrate with now. ‘Another time though? Would be good to hang out. Maybe next time you’re in Sheffield we could meet up with Alice?’
Dylan nods and as we shake hands, it feels like we’re both making an effort to move on from what happened. We’re never going to be best mates, that much is obvious, but I’m hopeful that we’ll be able to hang out in the same space, for Alice’s sake.
‘TENTERHOOKS! I’ve been on tenterhooks, Zach! How did it go?’ I can hear Alice’s excitement and anticipation when I call her later that night.
‘Really, really well,’ I say, my voice still
shaky with adrenaline. ‘We sold some paintings and I wasn’t even that fazed by the question and answer bit.’
‘YASSSSS. I knew it! You legend. I’m so proud of you!’
I bask in that for a bit, lying on the bed of my hotel room for the night.
‘How was Octavia?’ Alice asks, a hint of distaste in her voice.
‘Same as last time … very posh and she’s got a strange way of pronouncing things. There was a table set up with drinks and snacks and she kept calling hummus “ho-mousse”.’
Alice laughs.
‘She was cool, actually, and I’m grateful to her for hosting this thing tonight. She’s already said she’ll stock more of my work in the gallery. And Dylan turned up at the end, too.’
‘Oh?’
‘It was all right, Alice. We might never be best buddies but I think we’ll get along just fine. We’ve agreed to draw a line under all of it.’
‘Phew. I’m really pleased, Zach.’
‘Yeah, me too. So, back to us. I’ve had an idea for our V date and it’s inspired by you. Are you free at the weekend?’
‘I’m intrigued! And yes, I’m free.’
Alice is helping me pile art supplies into the back of Gerty, who’s heaving under the weight of it all.
‘I cannot figure it out,’ she says as she shoves the last of the rolls of paper into the boot. ‘We’re clearly doing something arty. But why do we need so much stuff? And what relevant word begins with a V? Van Gogh?’
I love the fact that our dates are still such a source of fun for the two of us, the mystery of what’s happening next keeping us both on our toes. We hop in the car and pull up at my studio, dragging all the extra kit I’ve bought into the middle of the room. When I figured out what I wanted to do today, I realised I was woefully low on supplies and took the opportunity to pick up a load more stuff.
Alice’s guesses are getting wilder.
‘V for vegetarian? Apparently cauliflower steaks are all the rage. You basically just slice up a cauliflower into thick pieces and then pretend it’s meat.’
‘Nope,’ I laugh.
‘Videos? I’m sure Dad has some old VHS thingies but how would we play them?’
