by Jenny Oliver
She waited, the fluorescent light flickering, the moths dancing while the geckos watched. She looked up at his eyes, big and green like marbles. Then at his lips, at the dip of his cupid’s bow. She bit her bottom lip. She felt suddenly like she was fifteen again, her heart thumping in her ears.
‘Where are you going to sleep?’ she asked, aware that he couldn’t drive his bike home.
He shrugged. ‘At the bar.’
She nodded. The flickering lights stung her eyes but she kept looking at him. Seeing each little lash, thick and dark like a raven’s wing.
Then, as his mouth seemed to dip fractionally forward she murmured, ‘Are you going to kiss me?’
He shook his head. ‘No Ella.’
‘Oh.’ She bit her lip again. ‘But I think you should.’
‘No, I don’t think that would be a good idea.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because you are drunk and you are arguing with your husband.’
‘We’re not arguing. He’s having an affair. And you shouldn’t know that. You should think I’m just someone on holiday. Anyone. Let me be anyone.’ She stepped closer, trying to wrap her arms around his neck. ‘A girl who just wants to be kissed.’
When he moved back she stumbled, tried to steady herself and bashed into the olive tree that shaded the doorway.
The pain in her shoulder seemed to sober her in an instant. ‘Oh my god, I’m so sorry.’ She put her hand to her mouth then moved it to cover her eyes. ‘I’m so so sorry.’
‘It’s ok.’
‘No it’s not. I’m so embarrassed. I shouldn’t have said any of that. Shit.’ She was flustered. Her body was still drunk but her mind almost totally clear. Her feet wouldn’t do what she wanted them to do and she had to steady herself on the gnarled bark of the little tree.
‘It’s ok.’ Dimitri laughed.
‘No. No it’s not. I’m married. God so are you.’ She looked at his bare ring finger. ‘I think. Oh god, look just leave me here. I’m fine.’ She rummaged in her apron pocket for the key.
‘Ella, seriously it’s not a problem.’ He put his rough hand on her arm but she flinched away.
As she fumbled to put the key in the lock she could feel him watching. When she glanced up at him his eyes seemed sad for her.
‘God I’m so sorry.’ She stopped. Rubbed her hand across her forehead. ‘Everything’s really messed up. I have no idea what I’m doing.’ She saw the little bunch of baubles and sighed, ‘And it’s bloody Christmas.’
He laughed. ‘It is bloody Christmas.’
She shook her head, ‘I am really sorry, Dimitri. I’m just not very good at–’ She paused.
‘At what?’ he asked.
She tried for the lock again then stopped, let her arm fall to her side. ‘Nothing.’
‘What were you going to say?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Ella–’
‘I suppose I’m not sure that I’m very good at…’
‘What?’
‘Being myself.’
There was a moment’s silence as she looked down at the concrete floor, closing her eyes and seeing patterns of colour dancing in front of her eyelids. She felt him take her key out of her tightly clenched fingers and unlock the door. Running her tongue along her bottom lip she wondered whether he’d lead her up the stairs, but he instead he pressed his hand into the small of her back and ushered her forward, placing the key on the inside step and closing the door behind her.
CHAPTER 14
MADDY
In the end Maddy chose one the outfits from Ella’s polaroids. Dark blue skinny jeans, gold snakeskin belt, black long sleeve top with a neck so wide it fell off one shoulder. It was all a bit too big but, Maddy decided, made her look chic yet dishevelled and from what she’d read about Soho that should work a treat.
She took the tube to Leicester Square, the bustle of people making her hold her breath. She was pushed and pressed and her hair caught in the doors as they closed. She had Ella’s black cashmere coat on and wished she’d had the foresight to take it off before getting on. Sweat was trickling down her back. No one looked at her. No one caught her eye. She smiled at the girl next to her when her hair got caught but the girl looked away. They trundled on. At her stop she pushed her way to the doors but no one moved and as the doors started to shut she had to call out and a man forced them back open for her.
Out in the open she paused for a moment to catch her breath. To look with relief up at the leaden sky. The cold air whipped through her, confusing her body temperature and drying the sweat to ice. Pulling the coat tight around her, doing a quick, subtle check of her A to Z, she started to walk up the Charing Cross Road, gazing into the windows of old bookshops and pausing to admire the cakes in the window of Patisserie Valerie. Just as she was running her tongue over her bottom lip, anticipating the taste of a six tiered concoction with chocolate frills around the sides and raspberries piled high on the top, she tasted her first flake of snow.
It had snowed once in Athens when she’d visited a friend at New Year but it hadn’t settled. Now it was falling like icing sugar, dusting everything in sight and reminding her of the little buttery Kourabiethes biscuits she sprinkled with sugar every year. Maddy tipped her head back and looked up at the sky, at the haze of flakes that swirled and danced above her. Savouring the sight for a second or two she then pulled her iPhone out of her pocket and took a photo, immediately texting it to her mum, even though she knew she never checked her phone, then took another three and put the best on Instagram. The 3G would cost her but she didn’t care, it would make Dimitri jealous.
The thought made her smile to herself. But as she pressed to share her falling snow photo on Instagram another popped up that Dimitri had added last night. A party with the artists. She had a moment of envy then reminded herself that she’d done that last year, and the year before. She’d sat with them and giggled and got drunk on ouzo. Fine. Good. She wasn’t missing anything. But then she scrolled down and saw another photo. Was that Ella dancing in the background? And her mum laughing. She tried to zoom in but the app wouldn’t let her. Damn it. What was going on? She goes away for a second and they’re all playing happy families and having the time of their lives?
Maddy pulled her coat tighter and tried to retrieve the magic of the snow. Of the frosting on the red postbox, of the big red bus driving past, its windscreen wipers pushing the slush out the way, of the Christmas trees jutting out above every building, of the tourists gasping at the flurry as they spilled out of China Town, the streets lit with strings of white lights and miniature lanterns.
And it was, it was amazing. She walked on, the snow billowing against her face, the shoppers and tourists pushing past her – but she was seeing it all a little less, a section of her brain back on the island, back at the photograph, wanting to know what had been so funny. As she turned up Shaftesbury Avenue, saw the big starburst lights suspended across the road, The Palace Theatre, the Curzon cinema, then Soho House and GAY, all the places she’d read about, heard about, had been desperate to see, she found herself wanting to tell someone, to point them out and coo and take photos. On her own it didn’t feel quite real. It was only as she paused to get a coffee from Bella Italia, stand against the counter and sip it like a local, she realised that she was actually a bit lonely. Even the waiters didn’t have the time to smile back at her.
She checked her map again. Greek Street wasn’t far. She wasn’t here to be a tourist she reminded herself. She was here to work, to make something of herself. She was here for the bright lights and the centre stage. She was here for the unobtrusive heavy frosted glass doors embossed with the Manhattans’ logo. For the black and white staircase that led to an underground cavern. For the high vaulted ceilings with the huge chandeliers, for the deep, wide stage with red velvet drapes and massive spotlights. For the bar where the list of cocktails on offer was longer than the entire taverna menu. For the clump of Christmas trees decorated only in tiny white lights. For
the doorman with the hat that he tipped as he heaved on the brass handle as if it weighed nothing. For the expensive soap in the toilets and individual hand towels. For the way she could sashay in, dressed in her swanky clothes and feel like she was famous. For the woman behind the desk with the bright red hair curled like a fifties pin-up girl and the tight black pencil skirt. For the manager who strode over dressed in a cream suit and a pale blue cravat.
‘Madeline Davenport?’ he asked, looking at her through narrow hot pink glasses.
‘Yes that’s me. Hi.’ She held out a slightly clammy palm wishing again that she’d taken her heavy black coat off before meeting him.
‘You said you weren’t coming.’ He glanced at a clipboard he was carrying.
‘Well no actually I emailed again to say that I could. Just the other day.’ she said, pointing behind her as if the past was sitting there over her shoulder.
‘No.’ He shook his head, took his glasses off and folded them into his top pocket. ‘I’ve replaced you. Apologies but I can’t be a person down.’ He gave a tight smile and his eyes wandered to a scuff on the floor that he polished away with the sole of his shoe.
‘Oh no but I have the job.’ Maddy looked past him at the big stage, at the technicians playing around with the microphones. ‘You said. I’d have it over Christmas.’
‘Sorry.’ He shook his head. ‘No can do I’m afraid.’
Maddy was going to try and plead some more but it was apparent his attention had moved on to other things. In the end she nodded and took a couple of steps back. He returned to his clipboard and then moved to talk to the woman at the desk. Maddy didn’t want them to see her eyes welling up so she turned and walked as fast as she could to the toilets.
Standing with her hands on the sink, her face damp from the water she’d splashed on it, she stared at herself in the perfect, flattering light.
Shit.
What now? Go home? Camp out in Ella’s flat with no money eating Alpen and drinking champagne?
Her phone rang. She looked at the screen to see it was her mum.
She thought about not answering.
Then she thought maybe it was an emergency and pressed Answer.
‘Hi honey. I just thought I’d see how you were doing.’
Maddy turned and leant against the sink. ‘Yeah I’m good. All good. It’s really fun. It’s snowing.’
‘Yeah I saw your photo. You’d be proud, I’m keeping my phone with me all the time. Don’t get used to it though, it’s only because you’re away–’
Maddy laughed and her mum paused, she knew her too well. Knew when her laugh wasn’t quite right. ‘Are you ok?’
‘Yeah, yeah I’m fine.’
‘You don’t sound fine, Mads.’
‘That’s because I’m in the bathroom. It’s all echoey.’
‘Oh.’ Her mum paused. ‘Are you at the place? I got Dimitri to Google it for me. It’s very smart, Maddy.’
Maddy looked around the toilet stall, at the gold toilet roll holder and the wooden panelled walls. ‘Yeah, it’s amazing.’
‘Well I was impressed. I thought I should just ring to let you know. I’m impressed. Well done Maddy. Enjoy it.’
‘Thanks Mum.’ Maddy sucked in her top lip, trying to keep her voice neutral.
‘I miss you.’
Maddy nodded.
‘Are you sure you’re ok?’
‘Yes, yes, I’m nodding.’
‘Ok, well get to work. Go and wow them. Everyone sends their love. Granddad wants you to get someone to film you and send us a video. Can you do that? He says you can do that. Jesus he’s nearly ninety and he knows more about it than me.’ Her mum laughed. Maddy imagined her in the kitchen, her apron on, the phone wedged between her shoulder and ear as she crushed herbs in the old, chipped pestle and mortar or fed sheets of pasta through the rollers until they were wafer thin.
‘I’ll see what I can do.’ Maddy said. ‘I might need to settle in first, you know, before asking people to film me. Could be embarrassing.’ She ran the toe of her shoe along a crack in the tiles on the floor, knew it didn’t have long before the manager had it replaced.
‘Oh absolutely honey, you do what you need to. Don’t worry about us at home.’ She could hear her mum’s smile in her voice. ‘I just wanted to ring really to say that I was proud of you. Well done. It looks really good. I was stupid to try and stop you. You go get them. Show them how good you are.’
Maddy had to swallow over the lump rising in her throat. ‘Thanks Mum.’ she said and her voice broke right at the end but she covered it with a cough.
‘Ok honey, oh I’ve got to go, another boat party have arrived. They’re all asking for bloody turkey. Can you imagine? The weather’s apparently about to break so I’d better make the most of it. Ring me when you can. I love you.’
‘I love you, too.’ Maddy mumbled. And as soon as she hung up put her hand over her mouth and silenced a sob.
Maddy, Maddy, Maddy. What are you going to do?
CHAPTER 15
ELLA
A loud thump on the door woke Ella up at – she looked at her phone – ten o’clock the next morning.
A deep voice called, ‘It’s Dimitri.’
Dimitri. She sat up, ran her hands through her wild bed-hair. Dimitri. Why did the name make her feel a bit sick?
Oh shit.
Ella jumped up out of bed, took a couple of strides towards the door but then backed away, screwed her eyes up tight and shook her hands in fists. What were you thinking last night? Glancing round she went back to look at the little mirror above the sink in the corner of the room and squinted in horror at her crazy hair and bloodshot eyes.
When he thumped on the door again she opened it a crack, shielding most of her body with the wood, covering up her bare legs and last night’s t-shirt.
‘Hi.’ Dimitri beamed, looking all tanned and fresh and glistening eyed.
Ella tried to force a smile.
‘The forecast says the weather’s about to turn so you have maybe one more good day, two if you’re lucky. I thought you might want to come on my boat.’ He held up a picnic then let his mouth curl up into a wicked grin. ‘But only if you don’t try to seduce me.’
Mortified, Ella covered her face and he laughed, the deep sound bouncing off the walls of the narrow corridor. ‘Let’s go.’
Ella shook her head. ‘I have to get ready.’
Dimitri took her by surprise by poking his head round the door and looking her up and down, then he stood back and said. ‘You have five minutes.’
Ella wrapped her arms tight around her waist, conscious of her near nakedness. ‘I need longer than that.’
‘Five minutes.’ he said, shaking his head. ‘As long as it takes me to smoke this.’ She watched dazed, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, as he lit his cigarette. ‘You are wasting time, no?’ he said, flicking his hand in the direction of the room.
Ella wasted another three minutes wandering round shaking her head at the memory of her drunken proposition. In her head it merged with the time all those years ago when she’d followed him around like a fat little puppy, her shameless adoration clear in her every move. Hi Dimitri, can I help you with that? Hi Dimitri, could you help me carry my windsurfer? Hi Dimitri I like those shorts, they really suit you. Hi Dimitri, I saw you on your scooter in town, you looked so cool. His valiant attempts to shake her off had been futile.
It had come to a head when clueless Ella had worn her best dress and stolen her mum’s lipstick which she’d applied really badly and later found she had some on her teeth, and tried to sashay down the jetty in her mum’s high heels to where Dimitri was waxing down his board in the heat of the blazing midday sun.
Oh god, even the memory of that wiggle walk made Ella feel nauseous. She barely needed to remember the fact someone had scrawled Ella loves Dimitri on the wooden slats of the jetty in chalk. That she had furiously tried to wipe it off with her stiletto and in doing so tripped, staggered, teetered
and then landed with a belly flop into the sea, catching the spike of her heel in the gap of the slats on her way down and twisting her ankle.
Ella went over to the sink. Splashed her face. Mascara trickled down her cheeks. God it was like looking at her fifteen year old self after Dimitri had dived in to yank her out and she’d been unable to walk and had lost one shoe and he’d half carried her, right over the chalk graffiti. Her dress had gone see-through, her hair was plastered down over her face and after mumbling a thank you, she had limped away catching sight of herself in a window, mascara all over her cheeks and lipstick smudged across her chin, and the sound of all the boys sitting on the stone wall – their sniggering ringing in her ears.
Face washed, foundation plastered on, teeth brushed, Ella skimmed through her wardrobe. She needed her cruise outfit – white blazer with gold buttons, navy trousers, red striped shirt – but that was at home. She wanted something that would make her look aloof, thin and rich enough not to care about her humiliating behaviour the night before. Her fingers stopped on a black and turquoise kaftan that Grazia had put on their Holiday Power Dressing page and a pair of gold gladiator sandals.
When she opened the door ten minutes later in her billowy chiffon, Dimitri looked her up and down and said, ‘You’ll be too cold.’
She didn’t have anything else. She didn’t have her polaroids. She had work shirts and shorts, bikinis and cardigans made of thin, puce mesh. She sat back on her heels as she rummaged through her bag realising quite how poorly she had packed.
Twenty minutes later they were walking down the jetty to the boat, Ella wearing her white jeans that were stained from the breakfast shift the day before and some crappy red jumper of Maddy’s that she’d found in a drawer. Feeling hungover and disgusting in her clothes, she took the opportunity to distract herself with emails while she had signal. Dimitri was strolling ahead in army trousers cut off at the knee and a black wooly sweater, carrying a picnic and a canister of petrol, a glowing cigarette dangling from his fingers precariously close to the fuel. The wood of the jetty, warmed by the morning sun, cracked and groaned underneath their feet. A scuba diver broke the calm surface of the sea as he chucked his harpoon and a bag of octopus onto the jetty and then heaved himself out. Dimitri saluted a wave and the diver proudly held up the largest octopus, its pink suckers pulsating as he stretched the tentacles wide.
