by Kiki Archer
“You’re here for as long as I want you.” Harriet paused. “The coffee I mean, not in general. I’ll get Helen to update your contract so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“What might I be worried about?”
“Oh, I don’t know.”
Camila laughed. “Do I need to sit down?”
“Yes, what are you having?”
“I can’t let you make my coffee, I’ll do it.”
“It’s only popping a pod in a machine. Go on, sit down.”
“A latte then, if you insist.” Taking a seat in front of the windows, Camila watched as the owner of the company made her a drink. Again, Harriet had been a bit flappy, such a contrast to the person she portrayed to the press, or maybe the way she was currently behaving was an act, a distraction, a test. Maybe this whole thing was some kind of set-up? Camila straightened in her seat. No. Imposter syndrome. She’d never let herself succumb.
“So, Harriet,” she said as her boss sat down next to her with two steaming mugs, “what exactly am I supposed to be scared of?”
Harriet laughed. “So direct.”
“You said I should be worried.”
“No, I said there was no need to be worried.”
“I’m not worried.”
“I can tell. Here, have your latte.”
“What have you gone for?”
“I’m a black coffee type woman.” Harriet lifted the mug to her lips.
“Strong, rich and potent?”
“Ha! And you and your latte are lovely, velvety and… and…”
“I’m not velvety.”
“You look velvety.”
Camila raised her eyebrows. “What’s your third word?”
“Let’s chat for a bit and see if I can find one?” Harriet was blowing gently on her coffee. “You really are quite something.”
“You don’t know me.”
“And you don’t know me, but here we are chit-chatting away. Okay, let me start; how’s the day gone so far?”
“Good actually.” Camila took a sip of her drink before relaxing into her seat. “I see your vision. I understand what you’re trying to do. And if I’m honest I see now why the three of them aren’t as buzzing as I assumed they should be. If they’ve been on this for a while I can appreciate how it might have got somewhat frustrating.”
“And it’s at this point that most people give up. But I’m not most.”
“And I’ve got fresh eyes.”
“You’re going to invent the invention aren’t you?”
“I’m going to try.”
Harriet moved her mug towards Camila’s in a cheers motion. “Right, that’s business done, now how about pleasure? I want to get to know you, Camila.”
Camila laughed. “Can I ask why?”
“You intrigue me.”
“In one day?”
“In one moment. Watching you through that mirror yesterday was one of the most memorable things I’ve had happen in a long time.”
“That can’t be true. If the press reports are to be believed you’ve done it all. My friend Julie told me about an article in Take A Break magazine where you were abseiling down a waterfall into an alligator-infested swamp.”
“Correct.”
“So quite what you think I’m going to offer you is rather perplexing.”
“I don’t want anything from you, that’s where the rumours begin.”
“I’ve not heard any rumours.”
“Yes, you have.”
“I haven’t.” Camila took another sip of her drink before meeting Harriet’s eyes. “But I get the impression you want to discuss these rumours with me?”
“I’m not solipsistic.”
“I didn’t say you were and I’m not even sure what that means.”
“I was called it once on a show. They were being rude, trying to say I believed only me and my mind existed.”
“You do seem to be quite the one woman show.”
“Ha! You’ve definitely not heard the rumours then!”
“What are you alluding to? I know you’re a gay woman and what you get up to is nobody’s business but your own. Plus, I always take people on face value and you’ve been nothing but kind to me.”
“Aren’t you questioning why? Don’t you worry that I could have ulterior motives?”
“Wouldn’t that make me the egocentric?” Camila shrugged. “What an over-inflated sense of Me I must have to believe you fancy me just because you’re gay and I’m female.”
Harriet ran her fingers through her hair. “Hallelujah! I knew I was right about you! Such a fresh-thinking clear head.”
“So you don’t fancy me then?”
“Well obviously I do, but you shouldn’t assume it.”
Camila laughed. “You’re the character, Harriet, not me.”
“Says you, Miss: I’m happy to tease my new boss.”
Taking a sip of her latte, Camila paused before speaking. “Do you have many friends?”
“Of course I do. What a strange question. Do you?”
“One. Julie Biggs, my next door neighbour.”
“I’d like to meet Julie Biggs, your next door neighbour.”
“No, you wouldn’t!” Camila squealed. “Oh, you do make me laugh.”
“And you make me laugh with your straight-to-the-point questions and if I’m honest, most of my friends are fair weather.” Harriet fingered the gold rims of her glasses. “I’ve not got that one woman I share everything with.”
“So you’re single?”
“In the friendship stakes and I guess officially in the romance stakes.” Harriet paused. “The lines can blur somewhat when you’re gay. That’s what causes the rumours.”
“Never worry about what people think.”
“It’s hard when you’re in the public eye.”
“People still talk about you when you’re not in the public eye. You wouldn’t believe the gossip I heard when I fell pregnant.”
“Try multiplying that by a million.”
“It doesn’t matter if there’s one person talking about you or one hundred, it still hurts to the same extent.”
“Goodness, I am being solipsistic, aren’t I?”
“I’ve still got no clue what that means.”
Harriet sat back, crossing her legs at the knee. “Tell me more about you.”
Camila shrugged. “I was pregnant at nineteen, then again at twenty. Their dad, Mick, he’s been around for most of it, in the loosest of fashions.”
“He’s not around now?”
“Not currently.”
“You never married?”
“He never asked.”
“And if he did?”
“Now? I’m not entirely sure.”
“And there’s no one else?”
“There’s Julie.”
“Who I’m going to meet later.”
Camila laughed. “This is a fresh start for me. It’s something new, and I’m happy.”
“I can tell.”
“So am I a project?”
Harriet gasped. “You have heard the rumours!”
“Just the odd comment.”
“Right, let’s clear this up. This is what I’ve been angling the conversation towards.” Harriet nodded. “I see things in people. I like to bring them out of their shells.”
“You think I’m a tortoise?”
“You’re not a tortoise, no.”
“So what do you see in me?”
“Something I’ve never seen before.”
“Intriguing.”
Harriet took a sip of her coffee. “Isn’t it just.”
“Are you going to build me up like Deana?”
“Oh goodness, what’s she been saying?”
“Nothing and I’m not sure I need building up.”
Harriet laughed. “You’re right, I think it’s you who’s going to be teaching me a thing or two.”
“I don’t know how to abseil into a crocodile-infested lake.”
&
nbsp; “It was an alligator-infested swamp.”
Camila moved her hand to her face to block the light that suddenly started to stream through the glass fronted building. “Lake, swamp. Why even do it in the first place?”
Harriet shrugged. “I completed my bucket list by the time I was twenty-five, so I made another… which I completed by thirty.”
“And now? Crikey it’s bright in here when the sun comes out.”
“Now I don’t have one. Shall we move?”
Camila peered out at the sky. “It’s fine, the cloud’s coming back.” She smiled. “I’ve got a bucket list.”
“And what’s on yours?”
“Lots.”
“Give me an example.”
“Okay, I want to eat Thai food. I also want to skydive.”
“You’ve never eaten Thai food?”
Camila shook her head.
“Tonight. We’ll do both.”
“What?”
“This evening. Tonight. I’ll take you for Thai, then we’ll go to iFly the indoor skydiving place.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not.”
“I’ve got to feed the boys.”
“Making tea for two teenagers? I’ve never done that before. Maybe I’ve got the first entry on my new bucket list.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not. It’ll be fun. I’ll help you complete your list; you help me complete mine.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re my boss and I only met you yesterday and I can’t afford Thai food, let alone skydiving, even if it’s indoors.”
“Think of it as staff training.”
“This is silly.” Camila held on to her mug and stood up. “I’m going back to the umbrellas on shoes. It makes much more sense than this. Plus, my break’s over.”
“My office at five,” said Harriet. “You only live once.”
“No, thank you.”
“You’ll be there.”
“I won’t.”
Harriet smiled. “We’ll see.”
Chapter Thirteen
“She said she wanted to test my boundaries!” squealed Camila towards her car’s passenger seat where her mobile phone was lying on loud speaker.
Julie’s voice was gasping from the other end of the connection. “Where is she?”
“Behind me! In her Lamborghini!” Looking in the rear-view mirror, Camila debated how they’d got to this point, where her boss was following her home in her sleek Lamborghini sports car as she bumped along in her banger. She looked away. She knew how they’d got to this point. Harriet had been right: she’d said yes. She’d gone to the office at the end of the corridor at five and said yes. Why had she said yes?
“Why did you say yes?!”
“I don’t know.” Camila gripped the steering wheel even tighter. “Why not?”
“Because it’s bloody weird!”
“It is, isn’t it?”
“Totally!”
Camila shook her head. “Quickly go and let yourself in. Make sure it’s tidy.”
“Your house is always bloody tidy!”
“Just go in, light the candle on the fireplace. Make sure it smells nice. Make sure the boys’ bags aren’t strewn all around the hall. Make sure—”
“Camila, I’ve got this. This is what friends are for.”
“We’re literally five minutes away.”
“Five bloody minutes?! I’m going!”
Camila heard the phone cut off and looked once more in the mirror at the vision behind her. Harriet had switched her gold-rimmed glasses for dark shades and the evening sun was shining through the Lamborghini’s low windscreen like a magical beam, illuminating Harriet as if she were the goddess of light. Camila gasped. What had she been thinking? It was one thing giving as good as she got in a bantering conversation, or fronting up to people in the world of work, but this was real life, this was her life and her life wasn’t appropriate for the likes of Harriet or Harriet’s Lamborghini.
Maybe she could nip upstairs when she got home and pretend one of the boys had an issue. An illness? Some homework that needed her help? But what if they weren’t there? Was it their gym night tonight? Probably; it was always their gym night even if it had been their gym morning. Fine. Her washing machine had broken down. Or maybe the dishwasher? There was flooding in the kitchen. No. Harriet might offer to come and take a look. Keep the lie simple. She’d double-booked herself. Reaching down to the passenger seat, Camila clicked to redial Julie. She’d ask her to come round. Julie could pretend they were going out to the bingo. No, Harriet might want to join them. Julie had an AA meeting. No one would offer to join in with that.
Cursing, Camila squeezed the steering wheel as the phone went to voicemail. “Julie! It’s weird! I don’t want to go! Well, I do want to go, but it’s too soon, which makes it weird, so when you see me pull in, you dash round and pretend we’re going to an AA meeting, for you obviously not me, and I know you’re not an alcoholic, well you might be, we probably both are, but pretend you’ve got a meeting and I’ve offered to come along for support, that way I can be all gutted that I’ve doubled-booked, but obviously my friend’s AA meeting would take priority over a night out. Please, Julie. Make something up. A doctor’s appointment that I’ve got to come along to? Just something. Please. Literally come over the second you see my car. I’m going. I’m almost home.”
Hanging up, Camila took a deep breath. This was definitely the best solution. She should never have said yes; it was inappropriate if nothing else. Or was it? One woman being kind to another. One woman wanting to give experiences to the other. And it certainly wasn’t the lesbian issue that was causing the trepidation. Sexuality didn’t matter. Or did it? Was it clouding the issue to some extent? Or was it that she was Harriet’s employee? Or the fact they’d only known each other a day? Yes, they seemed to get on, yes they were a similar age, and yes she’d always wanted to eat Thai and skydive, but not in the same evening and not on a whim. Things like this should be saved for, and built up, before you counted down to the big day and appreciated everything in its entirety. She shook her head. She actually had the chance to eat Thai and skydive. When would she realistically get the opportunity to do that again?
Pressing redial, she called Julie. “Dammit!” she shouted, as the phone went to voicemail. “Scratch that last message. I’m going. I’m just nervous. I’ve never been offered something so casually before. It just threw me. But I’m fine. I should go. You stay at home. I’ve got this.” Nodding, she hung up. This was how life should be lived. You grab the bull by the horns. You say yes to adventure. You live each moment like it’s your last. Glancing again in the rear-view mirror, Camila gasped: but doing it with Harriet made it so much more hair-raising. Not in a horrifying way. Yes, there was panic and slight agitation but not because of something bad. It was more a mixture of nerves, adrenaline and excitement. Butterflies. That’s what it was. She had butterflies, and butterflies were meant to be good.
Turning into the cul-de-sac, Camila held her breath. This was it. There was no going back. Harriet was about to see who she really was: modest house, modest life, modest person, and if Harriet didn’t like that, there was nothing she could do. Pulling into her driveway, Camila cursed at the bulk of Julie’s bacon butty van. It was as if she was seeing it for the first time, and it truly was a clapped-out old eye-sore. Oh well, she decided, as she pulled the key out of the ignition and got out of the car, this was her patch and she was proud of it. Or was she? Camila’s eyes widened. Julie, or a dolled-up, off-on-a-hunt, jolly hockey sticks, country-bumpkin version of Julie, had just waltzed into the road.
Camila watched as her next door neighbour, now with arms in the air, guided Harriet’s Lamborghini onto the pavement. All of the driveways could only accommodate one car and Harriet had been doing a good job of parking on the curving street, but Julie had taken it upon herself to act as if Harriet was landing a BA flight from JF
K, directing the Lamborghini with flamboyant hand gestures. It wasn’t this, however, that was causing the most shock. It was Julie’s attire. She was dressed head to toe in tweed. All tweed. A tweed blazer buttoned up to the top, a tweed skirt that came to rest just below the knee and Burberry ankle boots that were no doubt fake – either way their tweed was yellow and clashed with the green tweed of the suit. The boots did however match the off-white silk gloves Julie was also sporting.
“Julie!” hissed Camila under her breath. “What are you doing? What are you wearing?”
Julie ignored her, moving instead to the driver’s door of the Lamborghini. “Welcome,” she said with a bow, before looking around for a clasp that would open the door.
“Stand back,” mouthed Harriet through the window.
“What?” shouted Julie.
Camila dashed over to her crazed friend. “You have to stand back. It’s a Lamborghini. I saw her getting into it earlier.”
The pair watched as the scissor door rose like the wing of an insect. Julie moved in first with her hand outstretched. “Here, let me help you. That’s very low down isn’t it? I’m Julie. Could I have a picture please?”
Camila gasped. “Julie!”
“It’s fine,” said Harriet, pulling herself up from the seat. “Where do you want me?”
“No, I meant of the car. Do you mind if I sit in it?”
Camila gasped again. “Don’t you dare!”
Julie continued. “If I sit down here in the driver’s seat could you stand next to me, Harriet?” Pulling her phone from her tweed pocket, Julie passed it to Camila. “You take it. I’m getting in. Oh, this is wonderful. Camila take a picture! Quick! Look at me! Stand by the car, Harriet, so you’re in the shot as well.”
Camila looked at Harriet in apology.
“It’s fine,” Harriet was smiling, “take the picture.”
Camila held up the phone and snapped.
“More than bloody one!” demanded Julie, now raising her gloved hands to the steering wheel as if she was driving the car at speed.
Camila snapped once more. “I’m so sorry about this. This is my friend Julie.”
“We’ve met. Isn’t she wonderful?” Harriet tapped on the roof of the car. “Julie, why don’t you sit on the bonnet?”
The squeal was loud. “Can I?”
