Romantic Comedy Box Set (Helen Grey Series Books 1 & 2)

by Hodge, Sibel

  ‘Right.’ Deniz put his finger up. ‘But…what if there was someone in the end one?’

  ‘The other end one.’ Kalem looked up at his dad and shook his head.

  ‘Yeah, same.’ Mehmet nodded.

  ‘I’d have to agree with that.’ Atila had a horrified look on his face, wondering where this whole conversation was going to end up.

  Deniz waved his finger again. ‘Well – and here’s where it gets interesting – what if there was someone in the middle one?’

  ‘What, someone in the middle one and both end ones, or someone in the middle one and one end one?’ Atila was perplexed and so was everyone else I think.

  Deniz considered that for a moment. ‘What, two people in one end one together, or one person in each one end?’

  Ayshe and I burst out laughing. ‘Let’s say, one person in the middle and one person at each end.’ I decided to speed things up. We’d be here all night at this rate.

  ‘OK, what would you do, then?’ Deniz threw the question out to anyone who knew what the hell he was talking about.

  Atila considered it. ‘I’d go in the cubicle.’

  ‘Yeah, me too.’ Mehmet nodded.

  ‘Ooh, that’s a hard one. Is the person in the middle just starting or just finishing?’ Kalem broke in, which confused Ayshe’s dad even further.

  ‘I’m not sure. Does that matter?’ Deniz scratched his head.

  ‘Of course!’ Kalem threw in.

  Deniz thought about this for a moment. ‘OK, just starting.’

  ‘Are any of the ones at the end finishing?’ Atila asked.

  Mehmet considered this for a moment. ‘Good point, mate.’

  ‘One’s starting and one’s finishing,’ I piped up, looking around.

  All the men were deep in thought for a few minutes.

  ‘Aah, but which one’s which?’ Deniz wagged his finger at everyone. Atila tapped his forefinger on his lips, deep in concentration, and Kalem threw me a look as if to say, can you believe this? ‘I need another whisky. Things were never this complicated in the old days in Cyprus when it was just a hole in the ground.’

  Yasmin began shooing all the men out and into the dining room.

  ‘OK, I think this is hardly the type of conversation we want for a pre-wedding celebration. It’s time for the henna ceremony.’ She walked behind them, rounding up the stragglers and clapping her hands.

  Ayshe went to get changed into a traditional costume and came back wearing a hand-made, deep-purple, floor-length velvet dress, decorated with gold sequins and beads. The sleeves were too long for her and flared out at the cuffs. A veil the same colour covered her face.

  Leila took my arm. ‘I know you’ve never done one of these before. Just follow wot I do.’

  Yasmin put on a CD of traditional Turkish music and all the aunties and cousins sat around in the chairs clapping and smiling. Leila linked her arm with Ayshe, so I followed suit on the other side, and we walked her round the room several times. Next, Yasmin placed a chair in the centre of the room and pushed Ayshe gently on to it. Leila grabbed me along with two other women and led us to the corner of the room where there were four bedspreads and four large rectangular pieces of material. She picked up a bedspread, motioning for me to do the same. All four of us then carried them on our shoulders, dancing round the room. Yasmin picked up the material and laid one sheet flat on the floor in front of her daughter. Once we’d finished dancing, Leila placed her bedspread on top of the material. The bedspread was slightly smaller than the material and some of the women stood up, folding the edges of the material over the top of the bedspread. I watched with fascination as Yasmin handed out needles and thread to them. Some of the women began to sew the edges of the material to the bedspread, whilst the others clapped to the beat of the music. Once the whole thing had been sewn up, it was my turn to put my bedspread down. I arranged it over the top of another sheet of material and took a needle and thread. The sewing continued until all four bedspreads had been completed, then Yasmin produced an earthenware pot and covered it in a silk scarf. Leila took the pot and began dancing around Ayshe, shaking it in time to the music. She handed the pot to one of the other women, and they did the same. When it was my turn, I copied them, getting into the swing of things and gyrating to the music while all the others looked and carried on clapping. As I swung round, the pot slipped from my grasp and fell to the floor, landing on the antique rug where it decided to crack into pieces and spew forth its contents. The henna inside was greeny-brown and had the consistency of thick paste. My eyes widened to the size of saucers, and I immediately knelt down to try and scoop it back into the broken pot. Leila and a few of the others came to my assistance as Yasmin stood, trance-like, with her hands pressed so hard to her cheeks I thought we’d have to prise them off with a crowbar. We managed to scoop up most of it, and I rushed to the kitchen to find a damp cloth. After several attempts to wipe the rug, it became apparent that nothing was going to shift the stuff. Instead, I’d made even more of a smeary, brown pattern in the middle of the rug.

  ‘Oops.’ I looked up at Yasmin, who was now standing over me, eyeing the stain. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘It’s OK, darling.’ Yasmin had come back to the land of the living, but her voice was a bit strained. ‘Don’t worry.’ She patted my hand.

  ‘Oh God, I’m really sorry.’ I cast my eyes downwards, biting my thumbnail. A wrinkly old woman in a head scarf giggled at me. She pinched my cheek hard and garbled something in Turkish which I didn’t understand, giving me a gappy-toothed grin. I only knew a few words I’d picked up from Ayshe, so I couldn’t tell if she was calling me a complete idiot, or saying it was the best henna party she’d ever been to, and she hoped I’d be invited to the next one.

  ‘Don’t worry. We’ll just have to walk round it for a while.’ Yasmin was being very kind, but I felt terrible.

  ‘Let’s carry on.’ Yasmin took charge again, scooping up some of the henna from the broken pot and rubbing it into the centre of Ayshe’s palms. Next she took some silk fabric and wrapped her daughters’ hands in them as Leila brought out a tray full of mixed nuts and passed them round. Some of the women took handfuls, then threw money on top of the tray. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the big splodge on the rug.

  After that, the night ended abruptly, probably because Yasmin wanted to scrub the carpet to death with stain remover.

  ‘Let me help you clean it up,’ I whispered to her as Ayshe went to wash her hands and get changed.

  ‘No, it’s OK,’ she insisted.

  After lots of kissing all round, Ayshe, Atila, Kalem, and I bundled ourselves into the car and drove home in silence, leaving me to fester about what a complete hash I always made of everything.

  ‘Where did you learn your trail-of-destruction skills? Is there a school for it?’ Kalem finally broke the silence, fixing his mocking eyes on me. He must have thought I was a total idiot.

  Why did I always muck everything up? I thought glumly. I bit my fingernail and prayed to be beamed up to planet Zob.

  Chapter 16

  Tuesday, day 9 – I’m Going to Be Healthy

  During the night, I had recurring nightmares which involved paintings, rugs, and Kalem. I was trapped in a room surrounded by Yasmin’s splodgy rug, the projectile vomit painting, and a giant inflatable banana – not sure where the banana fitted in, really. The picture caught fire – wishful thinking – and the room was engulfed by flames. Picking up the rug, I tried to batter out the fire. But instead it caught alight and spontaneously combusted, leaving only a pile of ashes on the outside and the big stained part in the middle miraculously intact. Then Kalem burst through the door shouting, ‘What the hell are you doing noooooooooooooooooooooooooooow.’ The ‘now’ part went on forever in slow motion and was a bit freakish. Next, he proceeded to batter me over the head with the painting until it broke – that was the good bit – then he called me something, which sounded like, ‘fuckwit’, and shot out of the door and into
the arms of Emine who was calling me a ‘boyfriend-stealing-bitch.’ I was quite shaken when I woke up, I can tell you. Maybe I’d eaten too much cheese.

  I grabbed the phone, calling Ayshe’s number to dish the dirt on Emine and Mr. Business Suit. The exchange went something like this:

  Me: ‘I saw Emine in town yesterday with some guy, and he had his arm round her.’

  Ayshe: ‘What?’

  Me: ‘Yes, in the sandwich shop.’

  Ayshe: ‘Did they look like they were…you know…seeing each other, then?’

  Me: ‘Absolutely, she was all over him like a dose of chickenpox.’

  Ayshe: ‘Poor Kalem! Do you think I should tell him?’

  Me: ‘Well, I think he needs to know. I remember what it was like to find out Justin was doing the dirty on me.’

  Ayshe: ‘Urgh! I can’t believe it. I never liked her. I’ll tell him, as soon as I get a chance. What a bitch!’

  Me: ‘What a trouty-pouty bitch.’

  Ayshe: ‘What a trouty-pouty, fake, orange bitch!’

  ****

  As I stood outside the door of some prospective clients later that morning, I knocked tentatively, listening to the sounds of an argument inside. This didn’t bode well for a future marriage, I thought.

  ‘Hello, you must be Helen.’ A young woman answered the door who didn’t look more than eighteen. ‘Come in.’ She closed the door behind me and led me into a small lounge with a log fire simmering in the fireplace.

  ‘Hi, I’m Bulldog.’ A stocky, rugby-playing kind of guy with cauliflower ears and a squashed-in nose stood up and gave me a rugby-tackle handshake, almost crushing my hand in the process. ‘Do you want some tea?’

  ‘No, I’m fine actually.’ A new hand would be nice, though, I thought, lowering myself down into a rather scary, psychedelic-looking armchair.

  ‘I’ll have some. Katie!’ he shouted, even though she was right next to him. ‘Get me some tea.’

  ‘I’m not deaf. You get it, I did the last one,’ Katie said.

  ‘No, you didn’t.’

  ‘Yes, I did.’ Katie sighed and stalked off to the kitchen.

  ‘So, have you got much need for computers?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, I have photographic software, send emails, use it for the net. That kind of thing.’

  ‘I’ve just started a computer software business. If you need any software or anything let me know.’

  ‘OK.’ I pulled out some sample photos, wedding books and a price list of my photography packages.

  Katie came back in carrying a mug of tea. ‘Here you are, darling.’ She handed it to him.

  He took a big swig, then spat it out. ‘Urgh! No sugar. You know I have sugar.’ He glared at her. She glared back and went to put some sugar in – or maybe arsenic.

  ‘I’ve had no sleep for weeks trying to get this business up and running.’ He prodded the fire with a poker and sat down on a three-seater sofa, which was an equally psychedelic number.

  ‘No, starting a business can be pretty tiring at first. It took me five years of hard slog to build up my business after I’d decided to branch out on my own. Luckily, word of mouth played a big part in getting new clients, and now I’m pretty busy. It also helps that I’m a woman. A lot of brides feel more comfortable with me than with a male photographer.’

  After Katie had obliged with the arsenic, she perched herself right at the opposite end of the sofa. They didn’t look very much in love to me.

  ‘Here you go.’ I handed Katie the portfolio. ‘This is an example of the type of photos I take. Usually, I do a mix of traditional formal pictures and also more modern spontaneous ones which, as you can see, are very natural and capture the moment without being too posed. There’s a lot of call for these kinds of pictures now.’

  Bulldog pulled it from her hands and studied it.

  She shot him a look of complete exasperation. ‘I was looking at those.’

  ‘No, you weren’t.’ He flicked through, crossing his legs, so she had to stretch over him to look at it.

  ‘Yes, I was.’ To my amazement, she snatched it back. This had certainly never happened to me before.

  ‘No, you weren’t!’ He grabbed it back again.

  ‘Why don’t you both look?’ I suggested.

  With much reluctance, they moved closer together to study the photos. ‘I like this wedding book, not the traditional albums,’ Katie said to Bulldog.

  ‘Yes these have been very popular lately. Your chosen photographs are printed into a modern hard-back book and tailored to your own personal design.’

  ‘I don’t,’ he snapped at her.

  ‘Well, I do.’ She pulled the book out of his hand.

  ‘Oh, you always have to start, don’t you?’ He frowned at her.

  ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘You could always have both.’ I tried to be diplomatic.

  Bulldog stood up abruptly and sat on the other armchair. ‘You always get what you want, don’t you?’

  ‘No, I don’t,’ she muttered, still looking at the photos. ‘You got what you wanted when I caught you snogging that girl in the pub last week!’

  I felt a tense, nervous headache coming on and rubbed at my forehead, wondering why on earth these people were even thinking of getting married. Fingers of fear clamped their grip over my heart. If I’d stayed with Justin, is this how it would’ve ended up? Stuck in an unhappy, unloving rut? A marriage doomed to failure before it even began?

  ‘Are you OK?’ Bulldog looked at me.

  Apart from you two, yes. ‘Fine.’ I tried to think up an excuse to leave. ‘Think I might have a virus or something.’ I carried on rubbing my head for effect.

  ‘Haven’t you got AVG?’ he asked.

  ‘Sorry?’ What the hell was that? It sounded a bit nasty, like TB or VD.

  ‘Virus software. A lot of my customers don’t even have it. I’ve established my own kind of software programme for viruses, as well, it’s very state-of-the-art.’

  Then it clicked. ‘No, I think I’m OK, thanks.’ I tucked my hair behind my ear. ‘Well, why don’t you have a think about things? Did you say you were getting married next September?’ I looked from one to the other.

  ‘No, we’re not.’ Bulldog stared at her.

  ‘Yes, we are.’

  ‘Well, you’ve got ages, then. Have a think and then call me.’ Or not, I don’t care, honestly.

  ‘You said September! Don’t you remember, that night when you proposed, and you were pissed?’

  ‘No, I didn’t. I said, “We’ll see.”’

  ‘No, you didn’t.’ she glowered.

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  I couldn’t take any more of it and was relieved when my mobile meowed giving me a break from it all. ‘Excuse me.’ I opened my phone and read the text from Ayshe, whilst they carried on with their migraine-inducing banter.

  ‘Today’s challenge – be ready at seven – wear something casual.’ It said.

  ‘OK, why don’t I leave you a price list, and you can call me if you decide on something.’ I leapt up to make a sharp exit, gathering my stuff.

  ‘Oh, that’s right, chase her off. Always chasing people off, aren’t you?’ she hissed at him.

  ‘No, I’m not.’

  ‘Yes you are,’ she spat, following me to the front door.

  I yanked it open and walked out. ‘OK, call me if you want,’ I murmured, trotting off as fast as my little legs would carry me.

  ‘Don’t forget about the software,’ Bulldog shouted after me.

  ****

  I wandered to the supermarket to pick up a few bits. Even the mice in my flat were turning their twitchy little noses up at the lack of food. Three bags of shopping later, I trundled off towards home, lost in my own world of thoughts, dying for a coffee and a super large headache tablet.

  ‘H.’ Kalem pulled up beside me. I really must have been thinking hard. I hadn’t even heard his chugging old beast pull up.

  ‘Kalem.’ I lifted m
y hand up to wave but the shopping was too heavy and I nearly ripped my elbow off.

  ‘I would say jump in, but you might telepathically cause some kind of accident to me or my baby.’ He patted the dashboard.

  ‘Ha-ha.’

  ‘Come on, get in.’ He stretched over to the passenger side and opened the door for me.

  I deposited the bags in the back seat and climbed aboard. ‘I feel so bad about last night.’

  ‘Don’t worry. Mum managed to get the worst out, and the rest of it kind of blends in with the pattern.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Nah, only joking. She said something about never inviting you back there again.’

  ‘Shit!’

  ‘No, It’s OK. The stain really did come out…well most of it.’

  I didn’t know whether to believe him or not now. ‘Really?

  ‘Yes,’ he said in a firm voice as he veered off the main road and onto a dirt track.

  ‘Aargh, are you allowed to go down here?’ I shrieked, taking in the Road Used as Public Path sign.

  ‘Thought you might like a bit of off-roading,’ he said, as we bumped along a very narrow muddy track.

  ‘Ooh, God!’ I got jolted about and almost had a severe case of whiplash.

  Branches scraped along the side of the vehicles like nails on a blackboard as we ploughed on over fallen logs and down trenches. At one point, I thought we were going to smack into a silver birch tree but Kalem gracefully manoeuvered the vehicle round it and carried on down into a sloppy ditch, which looked like an old river bed. The track soon widened, and we passed some luscious green fields on either side, where sheep and cows munched away peacefully on the thick, velvety grass. We finally came to a secluded wooded area where he parked and jumped out. Walking round to my door, he heaved it open.

  ‘Come on,’ he said.

  I jumped out. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘For a walk in the nice fresh air.’ He started off across a field.

  ‘Ooh, I love walking.’

  ‘Ha, you hate it!’ He wandered off with his hands shoved in the pockets of his combats.

  We walked for a while through the deserted forest, our footsteps echoing on the crunchy leaves. Eventually, we came to a wooden sty, and he climbed over first. As I stepped up onto it, he grabbed me by the waist to lift me over. His face drew close to mine, and I felt his warm, sweet breath caressing my cheek. Gazing into his eyes, I stiffened. Perspiration tingled on the palms of my hands. I couldn’t move.