Kyazike
KMT you know what I mean. Is it gonna b cold for November
Cassandra
Shall I rework what I said? Probably, yes.
Darcy
It’s going to be 4 degrees! So we should all wrap up! I’ve got a spare pair of gloves if you need them, Kyazike
Kyazike
LOL you’re all right
Cassandra
Well there’s no point in refusing something you need.
Kyazike
I don’t need them, I’m asking if it’s gonna b cold
Darcy
Either way, they’re there if you want them!
Queenie
Gloves and weather aside, this is going to be a nice evening, I hope you’re all excited. Meet at 6 outside Crystal Palace station?
Kyazike
Can’t do 6
Cassandra
There’s a surprise. When can you do?
Kyazike
Queenie, beg you tell your girl to relax pls
Queenie
She doesn’t mean anything by it, Kyazike
Darcy
Shall we say 6:30?
Kyazike
6:30 I can do but I’ll meet you lot outside the park, I’m not walking down that big piece of hill to the station just to walk back up to the park again
Needing a break from the most stressful group chat I’d ever been in, I ambled over to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.
On the way back, I saw Ted striding across my floor, a vision in tweed, and glasses on this time. My heart did a little leap when I remembered how strong his hands felt when he was holding me up. I sat back at my desk, opened up a new e-mail window, and began to type.
“Tea?” I turned around at the same time as trying to minimize the e-mail window. Darcy leaned over me and peered at my screen. “Who are you e-mailing ‘Well, don’t be a stranger’ to?” she asked.
“Nobody!” I spluttered. “I mean, no, somebody. The freelancer who used to come in on Tuesdays! I was going to see if she wanted to come in and do a few more shifts.” I turned the screen off. “Energy saving,” I said.
“Careful. Bit of an inappropriate thing to say to a colleague,” Darcy said. “Anyway, I thought I’d come over to tell you in person that I’ll have to stay here a bit late, since you’ve stopped replying to the Corgis. Gina needs me to sort something. It’s amazing, these bosses call all the shots but are flummoxed by the smallest technological advances.” She ran a hand through her hair agitatedly and walked away.
On Friday, 2nd November, Noman, Ted
Here she is. What are you doing after work? Fancy a quick one? . . . a drink.
I felt a pop of excitement in my stomach and typed out a reply that showed as much before deleting it and replacing it with something a bit less keen.
On Friday, 2nd November, Jenkins, Queenie
Yeah, I got that, thanks. Good to see that your need to be corny hasn’t subsided.
On Friday, 2nd November, Noman, Ted
Ouch. Okay, must try harder. But that drink?
On Friday, 2nd November, Jenkins, Queenie
Only if it’s very quick. I’ll have to sneak out at five, and can stay forty-five minutes max. I’ve spent weeks convincing my friends to go to a fireworks display and can’t be the one to cancel, you see.
On Friday, 2nd November, Noman, Ted
Fine by me, I’ve got a dinner to go to. See you at the pub next to the church?
At half past four, I ran around the office asking different colleagues for various makeup products. Being the only black girl in the office, I had to make do with liquid eyeliner from Zainab in digital and some mascara from Josey, the antisocial Iranian girl in the music department, and had to ask Darcy for blusher, even though I knew it would be imperceptible even when seven layers were applied to my cheeks. “Why do you need blusher? It’s going to be dark in the park.” Darcy’s solution-driven way of thinking wasn’t always welcome.
“I just need it, I want to look nice,” I said. “Boosting my self-confidence and all that.”
“You already do look nice. Where are you going?”
“I feel like you’re being suspicious?” I said to her. Darcy looked back at me and raised her eyebrows. “Fine. That guy from sports, the one in all the tweed and the glasses, he e-mailed saying that he wants to go for a very quick drink.”
“Like a flirty drink?” Darcy asked. “What about all of your promises?”
“Well, yes, you’re right, but I think it’s fine to go for a drink with a colleague?” I said unconvincingly.
“Okay. Well. Be careful. You don’t want to dip your nib in the office ink,” she said, handing me the blusher. “And don’t forget about the fireworks!”
“I wouldn’t, not after all the work I’ve put into getting you all in one place at one time.” I rolled my eyes and applied more blusher. “If Gina asks where I am, say I had a small family emergency.”
“Queenie. You know what you’re doing, don’t you?” Darcy asked me solemnly. “I don’t want to be all Jonathan Jobsworth, but if you get fired, they can replace you with a hundred other girls like us.”
“Oh, so I’m dispensable?” I snorted to cover how hard I’d been hit by the truth in her words. “It’s only half an hour.”
“Yeah, but it’s also been the last couple of weeks.”
“Darcy. I’m good at my job, and I like my job, and I want to be better at my job, and I will be. This is just a welcome distraction.” I maintained my smile, not wanting to fall out with my best friend at the worst point possible. “Are you keeping track of me?”
“Not keeping track of you, but trying to remind you what else you can lose.”
“I haven’t lost anything, and I’m not going to lose anything,” I reassured Darcy as I walked away.
* * *
When I got to the pub, I tried to find a seat outside that was both dry and somewhere discreet, as about ten of the senior men from my office were already dotted around and giving me eyebrows whenever I squeezed past them to look for a table. Nothing met my desired criteria, and when Ted got to the pub and we bought our drinks, we ended up standing next to a wet table. We chatted for ages, at first tentatively, and then quickly, excitedly, with his hand inching across the table closer to mine.
“So, how do you like the building?” I could feel myself doing the doe-eyed thing.
“Yeah, I like it. There are a lot of secret rooms too. Have you explored?” he asked me, his little finger brushing mine.
“Huh?” I asked, heat rushing through my body. “What?”
“I said, the building, have you explored?” Ted repeated, his voice dropping to a sultry rumble.
Tom flashed into my head and I drew my hand back. “No, I haven’t! How’s your commute, though?” I tried to derail the conversation from the track it definitely shouldn’t have been on.
“Right, yeah, good commute,” Ted said, visibly confused. “When I do nights, I’ve got to get the bus from Hackney. But I’m hard, so I can handle it.”
“Oh, am I meant to laugh at that?” I smirked, feeling my face cool down. He truly wasn’t very funny but:
1. Apart from Kyazike, who is ten times as funny as me, I don’t find anyone as funny as me, even in this, the darkest period of my life.
2. Actually, no man is as funny as me or any woman I’ve ever met.
3. Does funny matter when over the course of the evening I’d been able to stop thinking about Tom for more than three minutes?
3a. AND been reminded what it was like for a very attractive man to speak to me like I was more than an orifice or someone hugely inferior?
“Oh, I’m sure you’re very hard, Ted,” I purred. What was I doing? I thought of another boring and practical question to ask. “And who do you live with,
Ted?”
“I live with—hold on a sec, you’ve got something in your hair,” he said, moving toward me, his hand reaching toward my hair, getting so close that there was about a millimeter of space between us.
I looked up at him and my mouth parted as he leaned down.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Oh, come on!” He laughed.
“Seriously, what time is it?” I repeated, panic taking over.
“Five past six,” he said, showing me his watch.
“I have to go, sorry, late, fireworks!” I ran out of the pub and continued running until I made the Overground train to Crystal Palace. I didn’t catch my breath until I met Cassandra, who was shivering outside the station.
“Ready for the hill?” she asked, blowing warm air into her bony hands. Cassandra was the first Jewish person I’d ever met. This was probably because I grew up in South London and only ever ventured north to see our other side of the family. I’d put my stuff next to Cassandra in an English language seminar at uni, and as soon as I sat down, she leaned over to me and said that as the two minorities in the course, we should stick together.
The first thing I’d noticed about Cassandra, after her pushiness, was her hair. It was long, dark brown, but shone gold when it caught even a glimpse of light. Like her hair, her eyes were brown but specked with shards of gold. Other classmates avoided her, I’m guessing because her leading personality trait is “spiky,” but I didn’t mind it, I still liked her. Not in spite of the spikiness, either. After introducing herself in that seminar, she told me that I should let her cook me dinner that evening, and has told me how to live my life at every given opportunity since.
“Is anybody ever ready for this hill?” I said, looking up the almost vertical incline. “We need to wait for Darcy, though. She got held up in the office.” I checked my phone. “And we’re meeting Kyazike at the park gates.”
“Oh, before I forget—” Cassandra said, pulling an envelope out of her pocket. “A hundred fifty pounds, right?” She seemed to dangle the envelope in front of me.
“Yes, thanks. Sorry, I know it’s annoying, but I can’t really borrow any money from Tom anymore . . .” I apologized.
“It’s not annoying, but I don’t understand it,” Cassandra said. “When you run out of money, why don’t you just use your other money?”
“What?” I laughed. “What other money?”
“You know, savings, a retirement account, that sort of thing?” I looked back at her blankly. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll start a tab.” She handed the envelope to me.
We continued to stand in the cold waiting for Darcy, Cassandra telling me that every man she met fell in love with her, but it had been so long since she’d met a man she could actually have a “connection” with. “. . . and Derek was such a bore, Queenie. He didn’t ask me any questions about myself in the four months we were dating. I had to drive all conversation. I decided, one evening when we went for dinner, that I wouldn’t ask him anything about himself. Guess what? We didn’t exchange a word after the hellos.”
* * *
By the time Darcy got to the station, we were frozen solid. My nose had almost fallen off, and Cassandra’s teeth were chattering comically.
“Sorry I’m late! Sorry! Hello again, Queenie! How was the drink?”
“A lot. Too much,” I said as she hugged me quickly.
“Well, I did tell you,” she said, raising an eyebrow at me.
“Nice to see you again, Darcy. Should we all get moving?” Cassandra said flatly, wrapping her scarf tighter around her neck. We all began to walk up the steepest hill in South London, my knees practically hitting my chest with each step. The girls strode up, chatting. I was too out of breath to get involved, instead listening along and either nodding in agreement or shaking my head.
“So, how are things with you and your boyfriend, Darcy? Are you still together?” Cassandra asked. “Sorry to play catch-up, I just haven’t seen you for a while. I hear bits and bobs through Queenie, though. What’s his name again?” Cassandra interrogated, the click of her heels echoing around us as we walked.
“Simon? Yes, he’s good! We moved in together a few months ago, and it seems to be going well! There are some issues, some troubles, but—”
“Like what?” Cassandra asked, almost greedily.
“Well, you know he’s fifteen years older than me? He’s ready for a life that I didn’t think I’d have to even start thinking about for years! Children, and mortgages, and . . .” It all came tumbling out.
“Why do you never talk to me about this?” I puffed.
“It all seems a bit trivial given what you’re going through.” Darcy smiled. “It’s okay, it’s nothing that I can’t handle.”
“How long were you together? You know, before you moved in with each other? Do you think you did it too soon?” Cassandra pressed on with the immediate and unasked-for psychoanalysis.
“Um, I think six years?” Darcy said. I nodded.
“Six years?” Cassandra repeated. “That’s a good amount of time before moving in together, isn’t it, Queenie?” I was facing ahead, concentrating on the top of the hill, but with my peripheral vision I could see Cassandra looked at me pointedly. I nodded again, swerving her dig, and tried to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth.
“Well, you know, it’s always a tricky thing, and some couples just aren’t cut out for it. But it’s no bad thing if they aren’t!” Darcy said, putting an arm around my shoulders, as if getting up the hill wasn’t hard enough. I nodded, switching to mouth breathing.
“I’m not being mean, I’m just thinking out loud,” Cassandra snipped. “Plus, along with everything else, Queenie didn’t even want to move in with Tom so soon. She told him that she wasn’t ready and he basically gave her an ultimatum. That’s not fair.” I nodded in agreement. “I don’t think she should see him again.”
“. . . Isn’t that a little bit harsh, Cassandra? They were together for three years. They’re still together, sort of. And they love each other.” Darcy clearly didn’t understand that the best way to deal with Cassandra was to let her think that she was right about everything.
“A break may as well be a breakup,” Cassandra said definitively, and Darcy was silenced by this pronouncement.
We finally got to the top of the hill, me hoping that the sweat at my temples wasn’t visible, the girls unbothered by the hike. We walked toward the entrance of the park, and through the clusters of crowds, I saw Kyazike leaning against the iron gates. We weaved our way toward her, me trying to touch as few people as possible.
“You lot took your time,” she said, blinking slowly. “It’s chappin’ out here. And you’re lucky it’s not raining anymore.” Kyazike didn’t like mud, or fireworks, or the cold, but I’d convinced her to come out and meet my other best friends, given that they’d been in a group chat for the last two months and them not knowing each other IRL was going to get weird soon. I may or may not have suggested that I wouldn’t do her hair again unless she came out with us.
“Sorry, it’s my fault! I’m Darcy, hello!” Darcy leaped toward Kyazike and hugged her tightly. “I can’t believe we’re only just meeting, I’ve heard so much about you. And spoken to you, fellow Corgi!”
Kyazike hugged her back, surprised at the physical contact. “You didn’t tell me she was so friendly, Queenie,” she said, smiling at me over Darcy’s shoulder.
“I realized earlier, you’ve met Cassandra. Remember?” I said, putting a hand on each of their shoulders when Darcy finally released Kyazike. “Last year at my twenty-fourth?”
“How do you pronounce your name again?” Cassandra asked, and I winced. Although it was better her asking rather than attempting a guess and butchering the pronunciation, I’d spoken about Kyazike enough for Cassandra to have remembered. She’d have remembered if it had been a basic name like Sarah or Rachel or something.
“Chess-keh,” Kyazike said.
“Oh, ok
ay, like Jessica without the ic in the middle?” Cassandra asked.
“No. Like my own name. Not some Western name. Chess-keh,” she repeated. I was worried that she was going to tell Cassandra about herself, but instead she looked down at Cassandra’s feet.
“Nice shoes. Miu Miu?” Kyazike said, impressed. I exhaled.
“Yes, got them in the sale, though.” Cassandra lifted a foot and twirled it daintily.
“Always good to find some common ground!” Darcy said to them both. “Shall we go, then? Get a good space?” She charged onward through the park, and we all followed her, me in my Dr. Martens and Cassandra and Kyazike instantly further bonding when they realized that heels at a fireworks display were an incredibly bad shout, holding on to each other to make their way through the mud.
* * *
Half an hour later, having passive-aggressively bickered about the optimal place to stand that would allow us to see the fireworks and feel like we were in a crowd while observing that two of our party were in heels, we were all standing on a bit of solid path at the edge of the park waiting for things to start. As I clutched a foam cup of tepid chocolate in my hand, my motley crew of friends swigged from a bottle of Prosecco.
“So you went on a date with your colleague?” Kyazike asked. “Who told you that was a good idea?”
“No, it just was a drink,” I said, burying my face into the cup. “Just a nice drink with a colleague.”
“Is he single?” Cassandra asked. “If he’s single and thinks that you’re single, it was a date.”
“He didn’t do the girlfriend drop, so I’m guessing he’s single?” I shrugged. “Not that your theory is right.”
“What’s the girlfriend drop?” Darcy always needed to be clued in on these things.
“It’s when a guy, even if he’s the one who approached you to, say, ask what the time is, needs you to know that he’s attached,” Cassandra explained, rolling her eyes. “Like last week, I was in a café, and there was a guy at the table next to mine who had a smear of ketchup on his face. I was so distracted by it that I kept looking over and staring, wondering how acceptable it was to go and wipe it off. He eventually turned to me and said, ‘Cool laptop. My girlfriend has the same one.’ It’s their way of telling themselves that, a) they’re irresistible to women, and b) they’re in control of all of their interactions.”
Queenie Page 8
