Take A Look At Me Now

by Miranda Dickinson

  My notebook was peppered with lists of tasks I had to oversee, from the initial refit to preparing the diner for business to opening day. Every time I remembered something else that needed my attention I would write it down, arranging and rearranging items into a blueprint for the coming weeks so that everything I needed to do could flow easily.

  ‘You are a machine, woman!’ Vicky laughed one evening as we sat in a bar in Richmond. We had been talking about a meal Vicky and Greg had enjoyed at a friend’s house when I suddenly remembered a key ingredient I hadn’t added to the list of suppliers I needed to find. Panicking when I found I hadn’t put a notebook or pen in my handbag, I’d begged the very amused barman to give me a pen and some sheets from his order pad to remedy the situation.

  ‘I just need to make sure I can remember everything,’ I explained, realising how crazy I sounded as I said it.

  ‘You’re running yourself ragged with this, hun.’

  ‘I’m fine. I want to do it right, that’s all.’

  Vicky’s smile was the kind my mum gives me when she’s about to challenge something I’ve done. It was the smile that said, ‘I love you, but …’

  ‘You will do it right! Because this is your dream and you know how you want it to be. And it will be perfect because you’re throwing your soul into it. But you need to try to rest a little, have fun. When the diner is up and running your time is going to get very precious very quickly. You need to make the most of now, of just being able to come out for a drink without worrying that you’ll be too tired tomorrow for working – because very soon you’re going to have a demanding thing that will claim every spare minute.’

  I wondered if she was still talking about my diner or if what she said had more relevance to her own life since becoming a mum. I supposed that in a lesser way, my new business was like a new baby – a life that I was bringing into being, which would require my total commitment. ‘Thanks Vix. You’re keeping me sane.’

  ‘My pleasure. Anyway, we’re celebrating this evening.’

  I stuffed the list into my bag. ‘We are?’

  ‘Yes, we are. Because things are happening for you. And because, as of next Monday, I will be employed again.’

  I stared at her, the news sinking in. ‘You got the job?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Oh Vix, that’s amazing! So does this mean you and Greg can start planning the wedding again?’

  ‘Oh yes! His ass is mine!’

  Vicky squealed and I squealed and half of the bar customers stared over at the two grown women dancing around like three-year-olds in a fashion very uncharacteristic for central London.

  Lists forgotten, I hugged my friend, delighted by her success. She had waited long enough with the uncertainty and strain on her household’s finances: this was the best news she could have received and I was thrilled to share it with her.

  ‘It’s going to be strange not working with you,’ she said, when we had calmed down and ordered another glass of wine. ‘I was saying so to Greg before I came out tonight. It sounds daft but I had it in my head that we’d find jobs together when you got back from San Francisco.’

  I never realised she felt this way and didn’t know how to respond.

  Seeing my expression, she smiled. ‘I’m not saying I wish you weren’t going in a new direction. I’m immensely proud of you, Sully, and I envy you going for what you want. I just got used to us working together, getting one over on Sourpuss Bagley and heading to the pub with the lads after work. I know we can’t go back to that, but it was comfy, wasn’t it?’

  ‘You can always come and work for me,’ I grinned.

  ‘Er, no thanks. Your idea of happiness might be serving pancakes to grumpy Joe Public but it isn’t mine. I’d close you down within a week.’

  ‘What’s your dream, Vix?’ I had never asked her this question, even though we had talked about every other subject under the sun over the years.

  She considered it for a moment, swirling the Chardonnay around in her glass. Then, with a grin so filthy it should have had a health warning, she answered. ‘Ryan Gosling, oiled, masculine and naked, in a house with a well-stocked wine cellar and no neighbours for twenty miles.’

  As I planned my business from the empty unit on Acton High Street, I began to visualise how running the diner would be. Who would be sitting up at the counter, where Marty and Frank used to sit? Who would choose to be near the window, watching the world go by on Acton’s High Street? Would families choose to eat here? Acton was a world apart from Haight-Ashbury but people were people wherever you went and they would always need a nice place to eat, whether it was in California or the London Borough of Ealing.

  My parents were wonderful, as supportive of this crazy idea as they were of my snap decision to fly to California when I lost my job. Dad threw himself into the task of getting quotes from builders, liaising with his gardening customers to find recommendations of trustworthy tradesmen. Mum, who surprised us all by being an internet research fiend, identified some great local suppliers who could provide the diner with fresh, organic ingredients. Through my parents I also met Joe, a great cook who had been working in a nearby hotel, who became my first choice for chef at the diner. I intended to do some of the cooking, having been taught a few methods by Karin and Dom, but wanted to focus on baking and working front of house.

  I was immensely touched by the way my family and friends were supporting me. But it was Aidan who surprised me the most.

  Two weeks into the project he asked to meet me in a pub a few streets away from his Marylebone office. When I arrived he was waiting at a table, looking tired and irritated.

  ‘Is everything OK?’ I asked as I sat down.

  ‘I’ve just come from a meeting with Dad,’ he said. ‘Those alterations you wanted to the interior plan? He disagreed with them. Apparently he thinks we can do it cheaper by sticking to his original layout. So I’ve just spent the last two hours fighting for every last change.’

  Seeing how tired he looked I feared the worst. ‘I take it he didn’t budge?’

  A slow smile spread across his face. ‘He tried not to. But I argued until he agreed to every one of your suggestions.’

  I was amazed. When we had been at the Council Aidan had always backed down whenever his superiors queried our decisions. It felt good that he was fighting for me now. ‘I don’t know what to say …’

  ‘Then don’t say anything. You were right, Dad was wrong. All I did was make him see that.’ He laughed. ‘Nell, it’s OK. We’re in this together. If I think you have the best idea, I’ll say it. I’m not afraid of taking the old man on at his own game.’

  A few days later, I discovered a mistake with one of the quotes we had accepted from the electrical company John had hired to rewire the unit. My calls to him all went to voicemail and I started to panic that the work would commence without the problem being resolved. I called Aidan and within an hour the mistake was rectified.

  ‘All sorted,’ he said when he called me back. ‘But I’m so glad you spotted the mistake. I’d completely missed it.’

  ‘Thank you again. I really appreciate it.’

  ‘Then buy me dinner.’

  I stared at my mobile for a moment, my pulse quickening. ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’

  ‘Why? We both need to eat. And I did sort that problem for you.’

  Despite my best efforts, I had to smile. Aidan certainly hadn’t lost any of his persuasive powers.

  We met at my favourite restaurant in Richmond and easily found a table, the venue being less than half-full with weekday diners. Over steaks and salad we talked about the progress on the diner and my developing plans for menus.

  ‘I have to say, I love the idea of savoury crêpes for breakfast,’ he smiled. ‘Was that a San Francisco thing?’

  ‘It was at Annie’s. She was famous for them. But her decision to put them on the menu was more than just a great culinary idea. It makes sense from a cost angle too. Crêpe batter is relati
vely cheap to produce and can yield a lot of servings. All the fillings are used for burgers, sandwiches and pancakes too, both sweet and savoury, so no menu item requires standalone ingredients.’

  Aidan was watching me, intently taking in every word. ‘I can’t get over the change in you,’ he said suddenly. ‘It’s remarkable.’ Seeing my reaction he looked down at his meal. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just so impressed by what you’re becoming. It’s like you’re someone different to the Nell I knew. It suits you.’

  ‘You’ve changed too,’ I said, before I had the chance to think better of it. It felt strange to be complimenting him but I wanted him to know.

  ‘How?’

  ‘The way you’ve fought for my plans – for our plans,’ I corrected myself, suddenly shy. ‘You wouldn’t have done that before.’

  Aidan nodded. ‘Perhaps we’ve both changed for the better. Perhaps this is what was meant to happen …’

  Later that evening as I lay in bed, the memory of our conversation drifted back. What if this was meant to happen? What if Aidan and I had to lose our jobs, go our separate ways and experience other things before the diner brought us back together? Realising what I was considering, I quickly dismissed the thought. I was still hurting about what happened with Max: surely these thoughts about Aidan were a rebound reaction? Nevertheless, the echoes of them haunted me for the next few days …

  As we collaborated on the details of the café’s renovation, we spent more time together. Working breakfasts, lunches and late-night takeaways happened naturally, and I found myself enjoying his company again. We laughed together – more than we had done during the whole of last year – and developed a good-natured banter that bounced back and forth as we worked. I liked the easiness of our discussions, the gentle mocking that always amused and never hurt and the sense of mutual respect I felt between us. Even Vicky was impressed when she met us for a pub meal and saw how we were together.

  ‘You two don’t realise how chilled you are. You were never like that when you were going out.’

  Before I went to San Francisco, this would never have been possible. I was always weighing up every conversation, reading between lines that didn’t exist and judging too quickly to be able to relax with him. Consequently, he felt he needed to tiptoe around me. Then, instead of talking about how we felt, we acted on our misjudged preconceptions of each other. Now, I felt I understood his point of view and he appreciated mine. It was a brave new world, but I liked the direction we were headed in.

  ‘Are you falling for him again?’ Vicky’s question was as pointed as ever.

  We were watching Greg pushing Ruby on the baby swing in their back garden on a warm Friday evening, as Vicky and I drank wine and watched the golden sun setting.

  ‘What kind of a question is that?’ I retorted, buying myself time to consider her question.

  ‘The kind of question you should be asking yourself. Don’t get me wrong, I like the guy now and I can see how much he’s doing for you. I just wondered if it might be fanning the old flames?’

  ‘No. Aidan’s just a friend.’

  ‘A pretty fit friend,’ she added with a wink.

  ‘Vix!’

  ‘Come on, Nell. You’ve been there before, haven’t you? So it isn’t entirely unreasonable to assume you might again. Aw, look at the two of them.’

  Ruby was gurgling and throwing her little chubby arms into the air as Greg pushed her, a huge fatherly smile revealing unbridled pride in his daughter. For a split second I remembered Eva’s delight as Max spun her high above his head that day at S-O-S Club and my heart ached to think of all of those times he’d spent with her and Shanti as a tight family unit, just as Greg and Ruby were with Vicky now.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Vicky asked, bringing me back to the scene in her garden.

  ‘I’m fine, just tired. And there really isn’t anything between Aidan and me. I’m enjoying being his friend.’

  Vicky finished her wine and kissed the etching of Ryan Gosling on the wine glass as she refilled it. ‘Shame.’

  The second week of September saw the builders moving into the café. Everything was gutted from the interior, the salvageable equipment went into storage and the unit became a tangle of exposed wires, large holes in the walls and brick dust everywhere. Lists ran the show, now on a clipboard that travelled with me so much Vicky renamed it Idris Elba, after my favourite actor. When I questioned why, her answer was simple:

  ‘Because at least now when you take it to bed with you – which I know you do – you’re guaranteed better dreams than diners and lists.’

  I was getting used to fielding calls from tradesmen as I met with potential suppliers, viewed equipment and discussed furniture requirements. Brushing dust from my hair and clothes before meetings became a daily task and I took to keeping a lint roller in my bag to ensure I didn’t arrive looking as if I’d come from a demolition site. I was busier than I had ever been, but I loved it.

  Aidan invited me for dinner one evening after a particularly late meeting with the builders at the unit. I was tired and looking forward to an early night, but the prospect of a decent meal was too good to ignore. Walking back into his house was a strange experience after being away from it for so long. For over a year I had more or less lived there, preferring to spend time with Aidan than endure the disinterested company of my Woodford housemates.

  Arriving that evening, I was aware of Aidan carefully studying my reaction to the changes he had made to the interior since I had last seen it. Much of the original colour scheme had been changed, the furniture updated to reflect the bachelor who owned it. When I had last lived here it had been a mishmash of styles, inherited and collected furniture from his various former homes and a colour scheme that lurched from magnolia to white to lilac. Now, cool white walls contrasted with dark leather and polished wood, carpets had been replaced with wooden flooring and sisal, and striking silver geometric light fittings formed focal centrepieces in every room.

  ‘Bit different from the last time you saw it, hey?’ Aidan smiled, handing me a very welcome glass of wine.

  I thought about the last time I had been here: the screaming match which had proved the last straw and resulted in us calling time on our relationship, with me finally leaving in the early hours of the morning after hours of quieter debate, followed by a tearful farewell. At the time neither of us had been ready to make the kind of commitment we both secretly wanted. Seeing how different Aidan’s home was now I wondered what else might have changed.

  ‘I’m happy with the diner’s progress,’ Aidan said when we were eating a speedily prepared beef stir fry with noodles. ‘I know there were some teething problems with the builder but I think the worst has passed.’

  ‘I hope so. But I still think your dad needs to double-check the estimate. I’m not convinced they’ve included everything we asked for and I’d hate there to be extra costs for John when the work’s done.’

  ‘Noted. I’ll chat to Dad in the morning.’ Aidan added this to a list in his notebook. ‘The electricians start tomorrow morning, so it might be a good idea to pop over there, just to make sure they know what we want.’

  ‘I’ll do that.’ I scribbled on my clipboard list. Looking over at Aidan checking his list, the humour of the situation dawned on me and I giggled.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Look at us with our matching lists! We’ve become slaves to tick-boxes.’

  ‘Man, there’s no hope for us,’ Aidan smiled and I thought how much happier he seemed to be. His smile was one of the first things I had noticed when I met him and it was still one of the nicest smiles I had seen. ‘It’s worth it, though. Things are running to schedule and Dad’s really pleased. We make a good team.’

  ‘Yes, we do. Tradesmen all across Acton now fear our very presence.’

  ‘I heard how you sorted out that foreman,’ Aidan said, referring to a heated discussion I had shared with the builders’ foreman that afternoon when he suggested that his lads should knock of
f early because they felt they had ‘done enough’ for the week.

  ‘All I did was point out that considering his lads hadn’t bothered to arrive until eleven today, I didn’t think they deserved to leave early. I don’t want your father’s money wasted.’

  ‘And that’s why you’re perfect to be the manager,’ he said.

  Later, when the dishwasher was filled and we were sitting in the living room with coffee, he suddenly turned to me.

  ‘Listen, I just want to say this: I’m sorry I didn’t realise you had this dream when we were together.’

  Feeling cornered, I began to protest. ‘You don’t have to say that …’

  ‘Yes, I do. I should have seen it. I should have believed more in you.’

  ‘You couldn’t have known. I hadn’t told anyone, not even Vicky.’

  ‘All the same, I didn’t know how much you wanted this to happen. I’m just glad I can help you now. That’s all.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I managed a smile, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear this. Vicky’s suggestion that I might be growing closer to Aidan played on my mind and I was aware of so much more behind what he was saying. We were approaching dangerous territory and if I wasn’t careful I might end up not wanting to leave tonight … ‘Well, it’s getting late. I should go home.’

  ‘You could always stay …’

  My heart began hammering in my chest. We had been here so many times over the years and I knew what could so easily happen if I let it.

  He quickly qualified his offer. ‘I mean, in the spare bedroom. If we’re going to check on the electricians tomorrow it would be just as easy to go together from here. Nothing else implied, I promise.’

  I breathed out and hoped he didn’t hear the utter relief in it. ‘It’s a really kind offer, but I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’ll call a taxi.’

  I walked through to the kitchen to make the call, my heart still thudding. Leaning against the breakfast bar I willed my pulse to calm itself. The old Nell would have given in at that point, would have seen the blatant hope in Aidan’s blue eyes and succumbed to the ever-present longing to be with him. She would have accepted with every intention of staying in the spare room but every expectation of ending up in his bed. But I recognised that I was vulnerable right now – still hurting from what had happened with Max – and I didn’t need the temptation to give in to Aidan.