by Kiki Archer
“Oooo Patricia, be careful,” said Harriet with a giggle, “you’re breathing on me.”
Camila pulled out the can. “I am not.” She turned to the lady. “I’m so sorry, here you go.”
Harriet nodded. “It fell down there. Complete accident. Come on, Patricia, let’s go and try on some blusher.”
Camila coughed. “Gretel, I think my cheeks are flushed enough as they are.”
“You’re right, my dear Pat-A-Cake-Poo, shall we make hay while we can?”
“WAIT! I do know you.”
“Toodle-oo,” continued Harriet, grabbing Camila by the hand and trotting her out of the store.
“Pat-A-Cake-Poo?” gasped Camila, glancing over her shoulder at the shop assistant who was holding the can of hairspray at arm’s length as she cursed their departure.
“It’s endearing. You’re Patricia, my little Pat-A-Cake-Poo.” Harriet quickened their pace. “You, however, with an unlimited choice of names at your fingertips opted for Gretel. Do I look like a Gretel? Do you think of me as a Gretel?”
“She knows you!”
“She doesn’t.”
“What about CCTV!”
“You were the one in the compromising position.” Harriet pointed ahead. “Come on, look, Thai Rainbow are opening their doors.” She nodded. “And you’ll be pleased to know my cling issues have gone, along with the camel toe.”
Camila didn’t follow the finger that was pointed towards the intricately carved wooden doors of the restaurant, instead she glanced at Harriet’s crotch. “Well worth it then.”
“That’s what they all say.”
Camila shook her head. “You’re trouble aren’t you?”
“Says you.”
“What?”
“You gave me clothing that clings. Was it deliberate? Did you want to see my outline?”
“I saw more than your outline, old Gretel.”
“Is that what you thought when you saw it? Old Gretel?”
Camila laughed loudly.
“Shush! We’re going in, they do actually know me in here.”
“They know you in Boots now as well.”
“Shush!”
Camila looked towards the doors that were now wide open, the aromas from the restaurant already wafting their way. “Why are they all just standing there?”
“Shush,” said Harriet guiding them past the sculpture of the mermaid and the swan and into the beautifully decorated restaurant.
Camila froze as the group of employees burst into a rapturous applause. Why were they clapping? Who were they clapping? She glanced around; she and Harriet were the only ones there. She smiled. They were still clapping. Should she bow? What was Harriet doing? Harriet was curtsying! She should curtsy! Lowering her head, Camila extended her right leg behind her left, bending at the knee as she lifted an invisible skirt.
“What are you doing?” hissed Harriet.
“I’m curtsying because you curtsied.”
“I was adjusting these trousers. The ankle’s still not right after you went fishing around down there.”
“You didn’t curtsy?”
“No, I didn’t curtsy!”
Camila looked around at all the smiling faces, the hands still clapping with force. “Why are they clapping?” she whispered. “Did they see our show in Boots?”
“The restaurant’s just opened.”
“And?”
“You’ve never been clapped at before?”
“Not like this.”
“It’s a thing.”
“Where?”
“Here, and when you’re on holiday, you know, they open the restaurant and you’re the first ones there so they clap.”
“That doesn’t happen at Butlin’s Bognor Regis.” Camila smiled awkwardly as she glanced around. “Do we just stand here?”
“No, I told you we need to shush. They won’t interrupt us while we’re talking.”
Camila stayed quiet and waited for the clapping to die down.
“Harriet, good to see you again. Do come though.”
“Thank you, Kasem, it’s good to be back.”
Following the lead, Camila suddenly jumped at the sea of hands that swished together in the same direction, signalling them into the restaurant. She curtsied automatically. She couldn’t help it.
Chapter Seventeen
Playing with the stem of her wine glass as she looked at the menu, Camila felt herself drawn more to the colourful border that intertwined beautiful dancing women with bejewelled elephants than the list of dishes on offer. If she were honest, the idea of scantily clad women using elephants’ trunks as skipping ropes made more sense than the words on display. There was: Por Pia, Thung Thong, Tom Yung, Plar Gung and there wasn’t a single explanation in sight. Taking a sip of her wine, Camila nodded before swallowing. “They sound like wrestlers.”
Harriet laughed. “What?”
“Gai Yang. Oh, that could be you! Gai Yang takes on Moo Pad.” Camila pointed with her glass back towards the restaurant’s entrance. “Moo Pad could be that woman from Boots.”
“I’d beat her.”
“Yes, then you’d take on me. Pla Chu-Chee.”
“No, I think you’re down here.” Harriet tapped on the menu. “Plain noodles.”
“Oh wow! It actually says plain noodles. I’ll take the plain noodles.”
“No, you won’t.”
“I will. I don’t know what anything else is. You can always tell if it’s a posh restaurant because it doesn’t have an English translation which keeps riff raff like me away.”
“You’re scared of the menu?”
“Terrified.”
“You’re not.”
“If I came here alone I’d quickly realise this wasn’t for me and head back over to Boots for a sandwich deal. You know the one with the packet of crisps and a drink.”
“You’d rather have a sandwich deal than eat here?”
“You’re right, this is on my bucket list. I’m doing this. But could you order for me? And my wrestling name wouldn’t be plain noodles. It would be…” Camila scanned the menu once more. “Oooh: Crying Tiger.”
“You’d be a crying kitten if you got in the ring with me.”
“Can I have the Crying Tiger please?”
Harriet pushed up her glasses and continued to read. “No it’s just a steak with tamarind sauce and chips, I’ve had it before. I want you to experience traditional Thai food. Couldn’t you tell from the name that Crying Tiger would be the one gimmick on the menu?”
Camila nodded slowly before saying: “Noooo.”
Harriet laughed. “You’re very funny, do you know that?”
“I’m not trying to be funny.”
“Well you are. Right, shall we order?” With a tiny movement of her head, Harriet had Kasem’s attention once again. “Thank you, we’ll have two Tom Yums to start with, chicken please, not prawn.”
Camila smiled in support of the choice.
“And we’ll also have the Rainbow Platter of canapés. Then we’ll have a Gaeng Khiew Wan and a Gaeng Daeng, again both with chicken, and one portion of Khao Ma-Praw and Pad Khee-Mao Gai.”
“Certainly, and more wine?”
Harriet nodded. “Yes, this is lovely; a bottle please.”
Camila smiled as the waiter walked away before turning her attention to Harriet. “Aren’t you driving?”
“I can have one.”
“You’ve had one.”
“No, I’m having one. I still have half a glass left, but it’s always nice to have the bottle.”
“You’re going to get me drunk, make me eat gay food and throw me out of an aeroplane aren’t you?”
“What do you mean gay food? Thai food’s not fancy.”
“No! Gay-Deng, Gay-Weng, Gay-Mauw-Chow.”
“Mauw-Chow? Now that could be gay.” Harriet was smiling. “There are absolutely no planes involved with indoor skydiving.”
“But we’re still doing it on a stomach full of Thai
food and wine?”
“I like to live life.”
Camila laughed. “I can see you do, and I’m only teasing you about… you know.”
“My drinking problem?”
“No! The gay jokes. Do you have a drinking problem?”
“Of course not!” Harriet was laughing. “And I like that you tease me about my sexuality.”
“I’m not sure I’m teasing you. I’m just going for the easy laughs.”
“They’re actually quite funny, and no one does it anymore. Maybe they’re too scared of who I am, or maybe it’s political correctness?”
“Oh, I hope I haven’t crossed a line?”
“Of course not, you’re funny.” Harriet smiled. “I find you funny. There’s something about the way you smile, Camila. There’s a naughtiness in you. A cheekiness. It’s like you’ve got a secret smile, but I see it; it’s like you’re sharing it with me.”
“Hmmm, well no one’s ever called me funny before.”
“It’s in your top three. You’re funny, cute and intelligent.”
“In that order?”
“Yes.”
Camila paused for a second. “Okay, I’ll take that.”
“So would I.”
“But what happened to velvety?” Camila raised her eyebrows and smiled over the rim of her wine glass as she studied her dinner companion. “Okay, you’re… right, let me see.”
“Why are you looking all sexily at me over your glass of wine?”
“Just being me.”
“Ha! See! You’re hilarious.”
“Hilarious didn’t make my top three though, did it? Right, Harriet Imogen Pearson, you’re complex, you’re intriguing and you’re…”
“Give me a pretty, or a beautiful.”
“I don’t tend to categorise women like that, but okay, you’re stunning.”
“Oooh, I like that, but just so you know, I’m not particularly complex.”
“You are!” Camila gasped and returned her glass to the table. “You’re here with me when you could be anywhere with anyone. I have no clue what’s going on.”
“That’s the simplest choice I’ve made all week.”
“Oh, that’s nice.”
“I am nice.”
Sitting up straighter, Camila felt emboldened by the wine. “Okay then, and I’m only asking it because you alluded to it, but are you a player? With women?”
“Yes.”
“Ha! Where’s the denial?”
“I always respond to an honest question with an honest answer.”
Camila nodded. “I know what we can do. Let’s play never have I ever.”
“Why?”
“Because this is fun and I feel like I’m reliving my youth.”
Harriet shook her head. “Never have I ever is too limiting. Let’s just take it in turns to ask each other questions that we have to answer openly and honestly.”
“Deal. You go first.”
Harriet lifted her glass and twisted the stem between her fingers. “Right. Why did you say you don’t categorise women based on appearance?”
“I categorise them based on name. The Harriet’s are quite haughty.”
“Are we?”
“The name is, yes.”
Harriet smiled. “I was actually asking why you feel uncomfortable gifting another woman with the beautiful or gorgeous tag?”
“I’m not sure I do feel uncomfortable about it.”
“You find women attractive then?”
“I didn’t say that and how many questions is this?”
“Okay, sorry, your go.”
“Right. What was your first impression of me?”
Harriet took a sip of wine before responding. “Honestly?”
“Of course honestly.”
Another sip was taken before the glass was returned to the table. “I watched you in that focus group and I fell in love.”
“You did not!”
“Not in the traditional sense of the word admittedly, I just knew there was something special about you.” Harriet smiled with her eyes. “I knew I had to follow you out. I knew I had to get to know you. I knew I had to invite you for dinner. I haven’t got to where I am today by missing moments. I trust my gut. I go on the adventure. I live life.”
“So you had a plan?”
“I just trust my instinct, Camila. People are so hung up nowadays on what they should say, how they should say it, what they should do, who they should do it with. I like to not think sometimes and be the person who doesn’t worry if they double text, or makes the first move,” she smiled, “or says more than they should.”
“See! This is so intriguing and it is complex!”
“It’s not. The complex people are the ones who second guess. The ones who debate the ins and outs of friendships, like you and that spiel on the phone.”
“But I’m here.”
“So there’s hope for you yet.”
Camila laughed. “And what do you hope for me?”
“Is that an official question?”
“Yes.”
“I hope we have fun. That’s what life’s all about.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.” Harriet shrugged. “What do you think life’s all about? What’s your life motto?”
“Crikey, all this before starters. Pass me the wine, I need a top up.”
Harriet filled both glasses. “Shall we get a car for the rest of the evening? I’ll send someone to collect yours.”
“Said like it’s the easiest thing in the world.”
“It is.”
Camila nodded. “Fine, we’re living your life tonight, so let it be.”
“I like that song.” Harriet gently rocked her body as she sung the line quietly. “It’s so simple, yet so profound. What do you think Paul McCartney was meaning? Let it be. Just let it be.”
“Is that a question?”
“It can be and it’ll probably give me your answer to my previous question as well.”
Camila lifted her glass and peered into it. “You’re too smart for me. I’m lost already.”
“Okay, let me re-phrase. Do you accept what’s what in life and just let it be, or do you strike out on your own and live the life you want… the life you make?”
“I think it’s a mixture of both. But I do believe you should leave your problems in the past and move on with things, which is what that song’s actually about.”
“Do we have a secret Beatles fan?”
“No, I read it in Julie’s Take A Break magazine once. There was an article on mis-heard lyrics and the true meaning of songs. His mum died and it was about that.”
“Wow. You just taught me something. I didn’t know that.”
“It’s hardly momentous.”
“I think you’re going to teach me a lot, Camila.”
“Don’t tease me.”
“I’m not! We’re going to be good for each another.”
Camila smiled. “Fine. Well guess what. You want more knowledge? The lyric wasn’t: We built this city on sausage rolls.”
Harriet burst out laughing.
“That was a joke by the way.”
“I know it was! Oh, Camila, you really are great.”
“And you’re easy to please.”
“Was that your first impression of me?” Pushing back and crossing her legs, Harriet re-positioned herself on her side of the table. “In fact what was your first impression of me? My question.”
“That you’re easy to please.”
Harriet laughed again.
“It’s true. I’ve just been myself and here you are lapping it up.”
“Should I tone it down?”
“No, I’m flattered. It’s fun.”
“See. The true meaning of life.”
“Easy to do after the bills are paid.”
“Well, yes, but…”
“But nothing.” Camila turned her attention to the sculpture of the mermaid and the swan. They were still the only couple in
the restaurant and she could hear the water trickling down the structure as it changed colour over the glittering lights. She shrugged. “It’s much easier to have fun when you don’t have any worries, you have to admit that.”
“Everyone has worries, they’re just different for each person.”
Camila returned her eyes to Harriet. “Hmmm, should I get the limo to pick me up or the Jag?”
“Hey, we agreed we’re not allowed to tease each other’s lifestyles while we live them.”
“Sorry.” Camila sat up and spoke with a smile. “So, my last question before the starter arrives, which I can see over your shoulder is on its way, is…” she waited until the platter was just above Harriet’s shoulder before leaning forward and whispering: “Have you ever had sex with a straight girl?”
“Camila!” Harriet lurched backwards and almost knocked the platter out of the waiter’s hand.
“What?” said Camila, smiling before shrugging. “I think Julie wants to give it a whirl.”
****
“Julie?” Harriet was still shaking her head as she passed the proper soup spoon over to Camila. “Julie? You tease.”
“It’s not this silver spoon?” Camila was frowning at the cutlery.
“No, that’s the dessert spoon; you use this spoon for the soup. It’s like a small ceramic ladle. Watch.” Harriet picked up her own implement. “You scoop up some soup, then you can use your fork for the chicken,” she paused as she stabbed into the spoon before chewing the small chunk of meat and swallowing, “and then if you want you can lift the spoon and sip the normal way… or,” Harriet turned the spoon’s handle to her mouth and tipped backwards, “the Thai way. Did you see how the soup ran down the handle? It’s got a groove in it like the banks of a river.”
“That can’t be right. What if a piece of chicken rolls down and hits you in the face?”
“You’ve already eaten the chicken from the spoon with your fork.”
“They don’t have chopsticks?”
“Not in a Thai restaurant, no.” Harriet laughed. “You’re good with chopsticks but you’re worrying about a spoon?”
“You’re sure you do it like that?”
“You’re changing the subject; we’re talking about Julie.” Harriet nodded. “Go on, just try it.”
