by Hodge, Sibel
‘Why not? We’re the second generation Turkish Cypriots with a London influence: an infusion of both cultures. Times are changing and we have to keep up with them.’
‘I’d buy it,’ I replied.
Ayshe planted a kiss on Atila’s lips and gazed up at him. I felt a burst of envy and looked away. They were so well suited – both bubbly, happy people. They’d met at the opening night of his new restaurant. Ayshe hadn’t been impressed when we’d had to wait two hours for our dinner to arrive, and even less impressed when she’d noticed a dirty finger mark on the edge of her plate. Unfortunately, the inexperienced waitress repeated Atila’s response to Ayshe’s complaint word-for-word, which was something like: ‘You can tell the fussy cow that it doesn’t come out of an effing tin. She can bloody well inspect the kitchen for herself if she wants to.’ Which Ayshe did, storming off into the kitchen to confront the rude little man. After she’d been suitably impressed by his culinary skills and his art of persuasion, a quick courtship followed. They got engaged and moved in together shortly afterwards. He was normally very calm and chilled out, although I had witnessed him in the restaurant, barking orders and swearing constantly. It was all very like Gordon Ramsey. Strange how all these chefs turned into Jekyll and Hyde characters the minute they stepped foot into a kitchen.
An hour later, my stomach was grumbling as a luscious aroma wafted from the huge Range which took up most of the tightly-packed kitchen.
‘Da-dah!’ Atila presented us with a round, chocolatey, doughnut-looking thing on a plate. It had a slightly hard shell and a manicured dollop of cream was gently melting on the side.
‘Looks great.’ I sniffed it.
‘Wait until you cut into it.’ He eyed us.
I stuck my spoon in and a rich dark chocolate sauce oozed out.
‘Ooh, that’s gorge…’ Ayshe said.
‘Mmm...’ I took a bite. ‘Awww...’ Then another. ‘That is fab.’ I licked the spoon dry, savouring the experience.
Kalem ate his in two minutes flat. ‘What’s all the fuss about? It’s just chocolate.’
‘You can’t get in the way of a woman and her chocolate, though.’ Ayshe gulped down another mouthful.
Atila sat on the arm of the sofa, his eyes twinkling with glee. ‘What should I call it, then?’ He looked around the room, waiting for suggestions.
‘Well, if it was mine, I think I’d have to call it “a chocolate orgasm”,’ I said, breaking into a post-orgasm type of grin, polishing off every last morsel on my plate and then looking to see if I could nick some of Ayshe’s. ‘Now that is what women really want.’
‘Yes!’ Atila slammed the palm of his hand on his knee. ‘That’s it, that’s it. Perfect for a sexy cookbook.’ He grabbed my face and planted a kiss on my cheek. ‘Anyone for another?’
‘I don’t know. Are we talking about real ones or chocolate ones?’ I asked.
****
The warmth of the art gallery hit me as we walked in from the crisp night air. Low conversation hummed as people wandered about, drinks in hand, looking at various paintings. Surprisingly, Kalem had ditched his usual scruffy clothes and had instead opted for a smart casual look. He actually scrubbed up pretty well when he made the effort.
‘Drink?’ A waitress offered us a tray of glasses and winked at Kalem.
‘Did she just wink at you?’ I hissed.
‘I get it all the time,’ he muttered, wandering over to a humongous piece of artwork, which was drawing a lot of attention.
I tutted. If anyone was likely to be chatted up tonight it was going to be him!
The painting was set on a white background, covered with multi-coloured splashes of paint. It looked like a five-year-old had splattered paint across the canvas in a tantrum. In fact, I distinctly remembered doing the same thing at nursery school.
‘That is fabulous,’ an elderly man standing next to us said to his wife.
‘The expression in it is so…captivating,’ his wife said.
I craned my neck, looking for the title of this particular piece. Colourful Ejaculation, it read. The price tag next to it was four hundred pounds. I sipped my wine and almost gagged.
‘It’s absolute crap. A two-year-old could have done that, and he wants four hundred for it. I could make that at home for about a fiver,’ Kalem whispered.
I glanced round to see if anyone had heard him. ‘Shush! Don’t embarrass me.’
Adrian chose that particular moment to creep up behind us.
‘Helen! What do you think?’ He swept his arm round the room, drawing our attention to all his paintings.
‘Well, we’ve only just arrived, but it’s great,’ I fibbed.
‘Come with me. I’ve got to show you this.’ Adrian completely ignored Kalem and led me by the arm to a much smaller piece which was a series of black and grey slashes of paint with a huge eyeball in the centre.
Did people actually buy this stuff?
Adrian peered at me. ‘Well? What are you getting from it?’
‘Grey and black with quite a lot of red?’ I blurted out.
Kalem cracked up with laughter.
I narrowed my eyes at him.
‘You’re not getting subtlety and representationalism?’ Adrian asked.
What the hell was that? ‘Yes…a bit of that too.’ I nodded.
Kalem rolled his eyes to the ceiling.
Adrian waved at someone in the distance. ‘Oh sorry, I must mingle. Please, enjoy!’
‘I need another glass of wine.’ My eyes sought out the waitress who was over in the corner chatting up a man old enough to be her father.
‘Get me one while you’re there.’ Kalem handed me his empty glass.
I returned with some refills. ‘Come and look at this one.’ I led him over to the picture I’d seen at Annabel’s house.
I studied it hard. ‘If you look closely, there’s something hidden in it.’
He leaned over to get a better look. ‘What? All I can see is a little stick-like man and some blobby things.’
‘Ah, I don’t know. I couldn’t see it either, but it’s very expressionalistic.’ Was there even such a word?
He muttered something under his breath.
‘What?’
He sighed. ‘Nothing.’
‘I think this stuff is great. I might even buy something.’
‘Are you crazy? Actually, I think you are.’ He turned to face me. ‘What is it with you and these weird challenges you keep doing?’
‘What’s wrong with it? It’s about time I got out and had some fun.’
‘But you’re pretending to be something you’re not, just to try and get a bloke. It’s never going to work.’ He grabbed my arm, looking deep into my eyes.
I shook him off and my glass of red wine erupted like a volcano down the front of my dazzling white shirt. I gazed down aghast.
‘I’m really sorry,’ he said, looking sheepish.
As people turned round to gawk, I pushed past him in search of the loos. How embarrassing! And who was he to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do? I’d bloody well show him. I dabbed at the stain with a paper towel and some water, but it just smeared into an even bigger mess. Maybe no one would notice as it now blended right in with the collection of art hanging on the walls.
When I made my way back, Kalem had got fresh glasses for us both. I took one and glared at him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered.
‘It’s OK. Don’t think this is going to come out, though.’ I looked down at my shirt. ‘You’ll have to fork out for another one.’
‘Of course.’ He looked away, shame-faced.
‘I’m going to buy that colourful ejaculation,’ I said, and stalked off in search of Adrian.
‘You’ll regret it.’ Kalem trailed behind me.
Adrian was deep in thoughtful conversation with a couple who had their backs to me.
‘Ah, Adrian,’ I butted in.
‘Oh, it’s Helen, isn’t it?’ The woman turned to me
.
‘Clarissa! How are you?’ I was surprised to see her. I hadn’t clapped eyes on her since my college days when she’d been a stunner and always had loads of hot dates. I couldn’t believe how much she’d changed. I’d been taking photography and Clarissa was doing a beauty therapy course, but looking at her now, you’d never have guessed.
‘I’m absolutely wonderful. This is Charles.’ She took hold of her husband’s arm. ‘Oh! What happened to your top?’
‘Slight accident.’ I gritted my teeth. ‘Nice to meet you, Charles. This is Kalem.’ I jerked my head in Kalem’s direction.
‘Oh, it’s so fabby so see you! It’s been…God, ten years or something.’
I studied her with interest. She was the same age as me but looked much older and more frumpy. She had a 1980s perm and wore huge glasses. She’d put on quite a few pounds since the last time I’d seen her. In fact, she was positively chunky. I quickly checked her husband out. He was a chunk, too, with very lank, greasy-looking hair, which looked as though he’d dipped his head in their chip-pan.
‘We’re very close friends with Adrian. What do you think of his art?’ She leaned towards me, smiling.
Kalem coughed, muttering something under his breath.
‘It’s brilliant.’ I glowered at him. ‘Actually, Adrian, I wanted to buy a piece.’
‘Oh, which one? We’ve got our eye on a few pieces too,’ Charles piped up.
‘First sale of the night.’ Adrian rubbed his hands together with glee.
‘The ejaculation thingy.’ I grinned at Kalem.
‘But that’s the biggest piece here!’ Charles said.
I nodded. ‘I know. It’s great, isn’t it?’
‘We’ve got a number of Adrian’s works. The most expensive was two thousand pounds. Can you believe it? And that was with a discount,’ Clarissa said.
‘Unfortunately there are a number of other people interested in it too,’ Adrian said.
‘We’ll be bidding, won’t we Clarissa?’ Charles smiled at his wife.
‘Of course.’ She gave a vigorous nod of her head.
‘You must excuse me. I’m going off to organize the bidding war.’ Adrian sloped off.
‘I’m so glad you’ve finally settled down.’ Clarissa looked between Kalem and me.
‘Oh…um…he’s not–’ I started.
‘I always used to say you’d never find a man,’ she cut in. ‘It’s so nice that you’ve finally found someone. You must come to dinner. Mustn’t they Charles?’ She glanced at her husband.
‘Absolutely,’ Charles agreed.
‘Oh…well Kalem’s not actually my–’
‘Yes, how about Saturday? We can have a little dinner party. Just the four of us,’ Clarissa insisted.
I looked at Kalem for some help, but he just raised his eyebrows.
‘How about it?’ Charles asked.
‘How about it?’ I turned to Kalem, willing him to get me out of this misunderstanding.
Instead he replied, ‘Why not? We’re not doing anything on Saturday, are we darling?’
‘Er…no,’ I muttered.
‘Come to us at seven-thirty for eight. Do you know where we are?’ She paused, then carried on without waiting for an answer. ‘We’re in Hampstead. We live in a lovely town house – very georgianesque.’
‘Good, that’s settled,’ Charles said.
‘Oh,’ Clarissa shrieked, ‘they’re starting the auction. Quick, Charles, we must get a frontal position.’ She dragged Charles off.
I cringed as a picture of Clarissa in the frontal position sprang to mind.
‘Why didn’t you say anything? She thinks we’re a couple!’ I hissed at Kalem.
‘I know you think that’s a crazy idea, but it was worth it to see you squirm.’ He laughed. ‘Come on, you wouldn’t want to miss the auction, would you?’
A crowd of people had gathered around Adrian, jostling for a good position. Clarissa and Charles pushed their way to the front and waited eagerly for the auction to begin.
‘Right, I’m starting the bidding for this at four hundred pounds.’ Adrian scanned the room. ‘Thank you, sir.’ He tipped his head to the elderly couple we had seen earlier.
Clarissa bobbed her head up and down like a rabbit in heat, scanning for potential bidders.
‘Yes, madam, four hundred and twenty-five.’ Adrian smiled at her and looked around.
My hand shot up.
‘Thank you, four hundred and fifty.’ He nodded at me.
Clarissa turned to see who else was bidding, and I looked away.
‘Thank you sir, four hundred and seventy-five pounds.’ The old couple had bid again.
‘Five hundred!’ Clarissa shouted.
‘Thank you, madam! Any advance on five hundred?’ Adrian asked.
I shot my hand up again. ‘Five hundred and fifty!’ I blurted out. All reason was gone now; it had vanished in a puff of smoke. I’d show them all!
Clarissa looked at me, whispering something to Charles, who shook his head. She then sighed loud enough to be heard in China.
Kalem elbowed me in the ribs. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Shush.’ I elbowed him back.
‘Are you nuts?’
‘Any more offers?’ Adrian went on. ‘No?’ He searched furiously for a reply. ‘In that case; sold to the lady in the white and red shirt.’ He pointed at me. Everyone stared, apart from Clarissa and Charles, who stuck their noses in the air.
I scribbled out a cheque and handed it to Adrian together with my address and telephone number. If I completed the transaction as quickly as possible, maybe I could ignore the fact I’d just spent so much bloody money on the worst painting I’d ever seen, just to annoy Kalem. I decided to make a hasty exit and dragged Kalem out of the door before I did anything else I would regret in the morning.
As I walked with Kalem back to the Land Rover, he didn’t say a word, which was even more annoying than if he’d called me a nutcase. I gazed up at the stars, glinting like cat’s eyes, cursing myself for being so stupid. An owl did a graceful fly-by, but instead of the usual twit-twoo, I was convinced it sounded more like, idiot too. Even the wildlife was laughing at me. I shook my head – it couldn’t possibly be saying that!
We rumbled along through the darkness in silence.
‘What’s up?’ I asked when we pulled up outside the flats.
‘It’s your money, but you don’t even like it.’
‘How do you know I don’t?’
‘I just know.’
I leaned back, folding my arms. ‘Saturday will be a fun night, then.’ I changed the subject.
‘Mmm.’
‘You don’t have to come.’
‘Yes, but I want to see what other ridiculous situations you get yourself into. It’s actually quite fun,’ he replied, winking at me, which suddenly gave me a curious, fluttering sensation in the pit of my stomach.
Chapter 8
Thursday, day 4 – I Want a Baby
Oh craparama, I thought, waking up to the reality of what I’d done last night. How could I be such an idiot? I put it down to being premenstrual and slightly not-quite-right in the head.
My mobile rang, cutting into my thoughts of self-doubt and loathing.
‘Hello?’ I answered, sitting up in bed.
‘Helen, it’s Angie.’
‘Hi, how are you?’ I smiled. I hadn’t seen Angie in ages.
‘Great. Listen, I was just wondering if you’ve organized a stripper for Ayshe’s hen night yet – only Barry said he’d do the honours if you haven’t.’
Her husband, Barry, was not my idea of a sexy strip-a-gram with his puny shoulders and a miniature pot belly – and he had bandy legs – what was she thinking?
I almost had to ram my fist in my mouth to stifle the urge to giggle. ‘No, it’s all sorted. You don’t have to worry.’ I imagined Barry getting down and dirty on Ayshe’s knee and shivered.
‘OK, never mind, then. Think he was getting a bit excite
d about it. Ooh, and guess what? He’s put me in for this week’s Reader’s Wives’ in the Porno Monthly Magazine.’
I couldn’t contain myself and had to put my hand over the phone, so she wouldn’t hear me laughing. ‘Excellent news, I’m sure your parents will be thrilled to bits.’
‘Anyway, gotta go. Lauren’s just puked up all over my riding crop.’
‘How did a one year old get hold of a riding crop? Anyway, you don’t go riding!’ I said.
‘You just wait until you’re married. You’ll need to do a few things to spice it up in the bedroom too. Or maybe I’ll just swap Barry for a new vibrator and a bar of chocolate!’ She giggled. ‘Alright then, see you next week. No! Don’t touch the Rabbit!’ she shrieked to Lauren as she hung up.
As soon as I’d snapped my mobile shut, it meowed at me. I flipped it open. It was a text from Ayshe: ‘Your mission of the day – hospital-visiting. Report to the children’s ward at Queen Elizabeth Hospital at two o’clock. Be there or be square! And I heard what you did last night – are you mental?’
Well, that wasn’t so bad. I loved kids. In fact, I wanted a whole brood of them. The only trouble was finding the right person to have them with and by the time that happened my eggs might have shrivelled up like sun-dried tomatoes.
****
So I strolled up to the hospital and presented myself to the Ward Sister promptly at two, complete with a handful of KitKats and a collection of Barbie magazines.
‘I’m so glad you’ve come,’ Sister said. ‘Poor little mites, they get so bored in here. It’s nice to see young people taking the time and trouble to do some visiting.’
She led me down the corridor to an alcove with four beds in it and a large window to one side. A play-pen containing games, toys, and books took up most of one corner. One of the beds was empty, but the other three were occupied. The one nearest the window was home to a geeky-looking blond boy with an enormous forehead, who was busy reading a book on astrology. On the bed next to him was an older boy, who was asleep and snoring with his mouth open, surrounded by various electronic hand held games. The first bed I came to housed a small and rather cute boy of about five with a very long fringe like a pair of curtains, which almost covered his eyes.
