It was good to see them all there, filling the dining room like faithful soldiers, amped up and ready to fight. There were so many of them, not just the bar and service lot, but the kitchen staff and the hosts, through to the part-timers and the pot wash. My little collection of misfits.
Jacques had pulled a couple of tables over towards the booth, so they were all sitting around and I stood before them, their expectant eyes looking for direction, something to follow. Taya sat to the side, her ankle strapped up, and smiled widely, covering up the look of concern that had sat on her face moments before.
‘Thank you all for coming today,’ I started, not really sure where I was going. I was confident that things had to change, but as to how… I was winging it, plain and simple.
Their faces looked up at me and I knew they were waiting to be told that everything was shutting down, and they were out of a job. The nervous energy in the room was clear.
‘You’ve all done the same excellent job you’ve been doing for ages, years for some of you. And, darlings, it’s been good, but things need to change. The club needs to change.’
There was an audible gasp around the table, as if I’d suggested we sacrifice a goat to bring about positive winds.
I grinned. ‘Bit dramatic, darlings. I know you’ve already been very helpful in providing some feedback anonymously, and we’ll go through it, but I suggest we do a little round table first. Let’s list the things we love about the club, and then the things we think could be improved.’
Jacques stepped aside and presented the whiteboard with a flourish.
There was a brief silence as they figured out whether they should really say what they thought, and I tried to smile. ‘Look, I’m sure some of you read that review, and perhaps you were outraged and think everything he said was wrong. But some of you might know some of those things were right. You’re my eyes and ears to the customers, darlings’ – I faced the front of house staff, and then turned to the kitchen staff – ‘and you guys behind the scenes might have ideas for improvement, and not get your chance. So here is your chance. Tell me. I will not fire you, I promise.’
I held my hand to my heart, and they laughed, disrupting the tension.
After that, everything flowed a bit better. They loved the atmosphere, they loved working together and being part of a family. Generally the customers didn’t tend to be awful. They thought I paid them fairly. They liked getting to see the shows. They loved the beautiful glossy bar, but the tabletops were hard to clean and got smeared all the time. They felt the upholstery needed replacing and the colours were a bit old-fashioned.
Jacques raised his hand. ‘I have something you’re not going to like.’
I resisted folding my arms, just tilted my head and noticed how the performers looked at each other. They knew what was coming.
‘I don’t like the Martini glass prop.’ He pointed to where it stood at the back of the stage, oversized and glistening. ‘I know it’s an ode to Dita, hallowed be her name, but as performers we feel like we have to be using it, and then we’re copying, not being original. And if we don’t use it, it sits there onstage distracting from the performance.’
I pressed my lips together. Of all the things I’d expected from Jacques, that wasn’t one of them. The huge Martini glass was one of the first things I’d bought when I set up the club – it set the tone, kept me on task. Kept me focused on getting the best acts, the greatest performers. Plus, it was branding. People would point it out and ask me if Dita Von Teese had performed here.
‘I’m not saying we get rid of it.’ Jacques put his hands up, softening the blow. ‘I just think it needs to be made more original, and it shouldn’t be on the stage.’
‘Where should it be?’ I said, trying to hold back the defensiveness from my voice. I’d asked for suggestions, and if my club was going to succeed, it had to be ‘ours’ rather than ‘mine’. I couldn’t do it alone; that was my lesson to learn. And it hurt like hell.
Charlotte raised a hand like she was in school. ‘I was thinking if we put it round by the bar, against the back wall, people would want to take photos with it. We’re always having to stop people trying to get on the stage at the end of the night to have their picture taken next to it. We could fill it with different things each week, or month, depending on the show – rose petals, flowers, glitter… something pretty and unique.’
‘Fill it with sparkly lights at Christmas, or hundreds of painted eggs at Easter! I love arty stuff, I’d love to do that,’ Taya added, clapping her hands. A few others piped up and said they’d help. Then they paused and waited for my response. They knew how much I loved that glass, maybe even what it symbolized. I wondered if they’d been moaning about it all these years, thinking it was pathetic and sad, my little homage to the queen of burlesque.
‘I think it’s an excellent idea.’ I nodded, and noticed how they seemed to exhale. I still couldn’t tell if that meant they were scared of me, or worried about me. ‘I think we should also brand it on the front, put a logo on the glass so the photos offer some publicity.’
‘Um…’ Aria waved her hand awkwardly, then tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, only making eye contact briefly before looking at a space beyond the group. ‘I used to work as a social media manager. I think there’s some things to be done with your online profile – running promotions, making sure people are talking about the club. Even the new speakeasies and pop-ups have a social following. I know you might be going for a more old school, whispered-in-ear approach to promo, but you still need to have social channels and be active. I’d be happy to do an audit of what you have, and set up a plan to make sure the club has a strong online presence.’
Aria looked down at the tabletop again, coughing to signal that she had finished talking. She tapped her fingertips a couple of times, and then looked up at me, perhaps expecting a fight. Instead, I wondered what had led a social media manager who clearly knew her stuff to end up working at a bar when she was clearly happier behind a screen.
That pointless boyfriend had to be involved in there somewhere. I wondered whether she had her fuck-off fund plan and how long it would take for her to leave. She was one of the ones I had started scanning when she walked in, looking for hidden bruises or pain in her walk. So far, Aria seemed only to be lacking in self-esteem and confidence, and I had hoped the Martini Club would help to change that.
‘Thank you, darling, I think that’s a wonderful idea – let’s talk about it together this afternoon, yes?’
She seemed to shine a little in the glow of my praise, and I felt sure I could help her as much as she wanted to help me. There had been another shy girl on my staff not so long ago, and she had blossomed in ways I’d never expected. Speaking of…
‘Ricardo, food.’ I turned to my chef, who looked anxious. He’d lost weight, I noticed, and his brow sat heavy, those bushy dark eyebrows almost hiding his eyes. I should have known there was no joy in the food any more. When I used to come into the kitchen, Ricardo was always singing along to the radio, teasing his staff members, laughing with them and making them better. These days, he was quieter, more focused on timings. He still wanted perfection, but there was no soul there any more.
‘Yes, boss?’
‘You read the review, right? What did you think? Be honest.’ I tried to be gentle, but honestly, I wasn’t sure how to be with this newer version of him. When I first hired him, we’d enjoyed the banter. I called him a troublemaker and threatened to fire him every other week, and he always made me something so delicious for lunch that I called him a genius and told him he must never leave me. And the cycle continued.
‘Honestly’ – he rubbed the back of his neck and looked at the ceiling – ‘honestly, I think he was right. There’s nothing wrong with our food, but it’s not exciting, it’s not blowing anyone’s mind. There’s no creativity there any more, and I know that’s my fault, I’m sorry, boss.’
There was something going on there, I was sure. Ricky was a proud man, and an even prouder chef. He didn’t just throw up his hands and accept defeat. He certainly didn’t attempt to stand up and shuffle off like he was doing.
‘Darling, where are you going?’
‘I’ve let my team down.’ He shook his head. ‘And honestly, I just don’t have the passion any more. I shouldn’t be working here if I’m going to fail the club.’
My eyes flickered to the rest of the table. ‘Jacques, darling, take over would you? Chef, come with me please.’
I tilted my head to the office door, and Ricardo followed stiffly, like a child getting a telling-off from a headmistress. I could hear Jacques leading the conversation as I pushed through the double doors, and perhaps that was the best option anyway – let them talk without feeling they were criticizing everything I’d built.
We sat in the office, him slumped in the chair opposite me.
‘Ricky, talk to me. We’ve been in this together a long time. Do you want to go, and just didn’t want to tell me?’
He shook his head, lips pressed together.
‘Then what is it?’
I never usually had to wait a whole thirty seconds for the chef to tell me what was on his mind. Once, he’d spent eight whole minutes talking about the quality of the limes at the farmers’ market he’d been to and all the things he could use them for. More often than not I had to cut him off, not encourage him to speak.
‘Maria’s sick, and I’m trying to look after her and keep the kids happy, and I come to work, and I love to work but my brain is fried. I can keep cooking, I can keep checking the line, making it all go out the same, but as for ideas… I’ve got no creativity left, boss. It’s like my brain won’t work, or my taste buds are dead. But I need this job, and I didn’t want to—’
He pressed his lips into a thin line, his eyes focused solely on a pen on the desk. He cleared his throat.
‘I don’t want to leave, but I don’t think I can give you what you need. You need someone dynamic and creative – someone who’s still got that soul. I just want to cook decent food and go home to my family.’
I felt my throat close up. ‘Ricky, why didn’t you say anything? We would have helped, you could have had time off, whatever you needed! We’re a team, you need to trust your team to pick up the slack.’
Ricardo raised an eyebrow at me and looked so much like his old sarcastic self for a second that I wanted to cry. ‘Pot, kettle.’
‘Well I’m learning now, aren’t I? So what do you need? Earlier finishes, of course, so you can spend more time with the family…’ I started making a list on a nearby notebook.
He cleared his throat. ‘I think I want to take a step back… you need a head chef who is vibrant, young, energetic. Someone who can bring passion to the menu, make it something to talk about. I know how to run a kitchen, I know how to do the costs and make it all work. Why not give someone else a chance to shine and I’ll mentor them?’
I thought of one person, one person who would be perfect, who knew the club, knew the team and knew how to bring that passion.
Ricardo pointed at me. ‘You’re thinking the same thing I did.’
‘She’s travelling, she’s got big plans for her own place, she’s not going to want to come back,’ I said, shrugging.
‘Well, maybe she’d want to do a residency for a few months? It couldn’t hurt to ask, right?’ Ricky said sensibly, and I tried to establish my feelings. Savannah had been a diamond in the rough, a sweet bartender with a fair bit of family drama who had found her place in the kitchen. She sent me postcards every few months, updating me on her experiences at culinary school, the delicious cocktails she’d tasted in different European cities, the shows she’d seen and what she was inspired by. She was living her dream the way I had eight years ago, building something for herself. I couldn’t take that away from her.
‘It’s something to consider,’ I said, secretly wondering how I’d even afford to pay two head chefs. I was going to have to talk to the accountant. Especially if we were going to start making some physical changes to the space. ‘Okay, why don’t you go back and join the team – I’ll do some research and we’ll chat about it again in a couple of days? And if you need to leave early today to be with your family, you just go, okay? Do you need anything, is there anything I can do?’
Ricky’s eyes watered slightly, and he looked horrified, so I averted my eyes.
‘Thanks, boss, I’m good.’
I waited until he had closed the door behind him before I placed my head on the desk. This was harder than I’d thought. Everyone had their own stories and issues. Everyone had opinions about my baby, my club, and I had spent a lifetime building something and not caring what anyone else thought. Too many thoughts muddied the vision – I knew what I wanted and I had built it in my image.
But businesses had to breathe and grow, like people. The club had become stagnant, the same way I had. Doing the same things day in, day out. Playing a part and fitting the mould I’d made. Eight years ago I’d built a business, created a persona, and all I’d done since then was maintain. I was like Ricardo – I hadn’t created anything in a long time.
I jumped up and walked out to the stairs, jangling the keys as I unlocked upstairs and stepped out onto the roof space. It was plain, grey concrete with high brick sides, but I’d put a couple of flowerpots up there. I liked to sit up here to do paperwork in the summer and see a little sunshine. The club was about darkness and shadows, sparkle in the spotlight – it needed that dark sexiness to thrive. The evenings were illicit. But I loved the sunshine, and sitting up here always made me feel like anything was possible. I looked across at the London skyline and remembered the first time I stood in this spot. I was in my mid-twenties, wearing a suit jacket from a charity shop that I’d tailored to fit me, clasping a business plan printed from the shop on the corner. I was full of bluster and when the man showing me the property had tried to talk down to me, asking for much more than it was worth, I’d spoken like someone I thought he’d respect. And the Arabella voice was born. When he’d taken me to the roof, I said I needed to return a call to my investors, and asked for some privacy. I didn’t call anyone, I just stood there staring at that skyline and wondered if I could really do this. I was alone, not particularly intelligent or special in any way. The only thing I had was the tenacity of a terrier, and a vision for somewhere I could belong. That was it.
Looking at that same view now, the skyline had changed. The buildings were taller and shinier. The smog seemed to lift with the summer sunshine, and the noise from the street seemed far away. This was my little summer escape, and those few times when I didn’t think I could keep up the pretence, I came here to breathe. To access that driven woman from all those years ago who knew she wasn’t special or impressive or anything much at all, but that none of that would stop her from creating something wonderful.
As long as I created something brilliant, it didn’t matter that I’d spent years making terrible choices and just getting by. The Martini Club was my chance to be more than just a person. It was the way I guessed some people felt about their children, being able to leave a legacy.
I’d never had a desire to have children, but I wanted the club to outlive me, to be something I started, something I’d made that would survive, in one way or another, to prove I’d done something wonderful.
I supposed that was a bit much to expect for a business. That was more of a people thing.
I took a few deep breaths, enjoying the space, the tentative kiss of sunshine on my face. Summer was coming. People didn’t want silk corsets and dark rooms. They wanted white linen dresses and jalapeño mojitos, fresh crunchy salad and ice cream sundaes that made them feel like a kid again. But a business had to have a brand; it couldn’t be everything at once. Perhaps I could, though.
I leant on the wall and peered over at the street, to the front of the club. Everything was as it had always been, people rushing about, tourists bumbling along with apparent delight at everything, truly seeing in a way Londoners had long ceased doing. And there, outside the door of the club was a man staring straight up at me. He waved.
For the briefest moment I thought it was Brodie. That he’d come to support me, to make sure I was following his advice. Maybe a small, nostalgic, teenage part of me hoped he had run here, like in one of those London-set rom coms, so that he could take me in his arms and tell me the biggest mistake he’d ever made was not kissing me back all those years ago.
But it wasn’t Brodie. As I squinted, peering down at the brown hair, dark T-shirt and jeans, the man waved at me. And that was when I realized who it was.
I pulled open the front door and slipped out, not letting him in.
‘Euan, what are you doing here? I don’t really have time for this today.’
As he turned around I was faced with the ugly puffiness of a black eye as he winced. Didn’t seem to make a dent in his cheerful attitude. ‘Well hello to you too! I saw the review and wanted to offer some moral support, but you’ve been closed. So I’ve been popping by each day to see if you were around.’
Something didn’t quite ring true, and I tilted my head. ‘What’s with the black eye?’
He smiled and shrugged. ‘I may have been a little cheeky with someone I shouldn’t have been cheeky with. You know me, Bel, always learning the same lessons.’
‘I do know that. Which is why I know you’re not here out of the goodness of your heart.’ I placed a hand on my hip. I didn’t have time for these shenanigans, but if life was telling me to deal with my past, maybe that was what I needed to do.
‘Maybe I’m trying to win you back.’ He smiled again, the charm somewhat diminished by the purples and blues of his skin.
‘Always learning the same lessons,’ I sighed, shaking my head. ‘You realize that’s not going to happen? We were barely grown-ups when we got married, and I left for a reason.’
‘Yes, maybe you’d like to share that one day,’ he countered.
‘What, the poverty, and the working non-stop whilst you did nothing but got yourself into trouble wasn’t enough?’ I tried to keep my voice under control, stopping myself from shouting at him. Didn’t you see how hard it was for me, how exhausted I was? Didn’t you notice I was starting to disappear in front of you?
‘You always have a reason for things, Bel. You don’t sweat the small stuff. All those years with your mum, working and studying and dancing – you can handle anything. It wasn’t the work. It wasn’t being poor.’
‘This can’t be what you came here for? Closure, or whatever? You’re looking for a place to hide out until whoever got upset with you eases up. You forget, I know you.’
Euan shifted from one foot to another. ‘Okay, you know me. I lost my job, and I thought if you were making some changes to the club after that review, you might want a builder. Or even just someone to price it up for you, or see if things are possible? I’m a fuck-up in a lot of ways, Bel, I’ll give you that, but I’m good at my job.’
‘Then why did you get fired?’
He clenched his teeth and I watched him wince as his eyes narrowed. ‘There may have been a thing with a girl who wasn’t technically available…’
‘Of course there was.’ I shook my head. ‘At least you don’t owe people money, I guess.’
He snorted. ‘Look, honestly, I’m licking my wounds and I thought you would be too. I know we’re not the same now, but we’ve got history, and I care about you. I always wanted you to succeed. I wasn’t the right person to help with that, but you were always strong enough to do it on your own. I… I can actually help now, so let me help.’
The sincerity was a bit of a shock, I had to admit. When he met my eyes, I searched for those tell-tale signs I knew from years before, but could find none. Either he’d changed his tells, or he was being honest.
I was wary, but hadn’t this whole strange meeting of the stars been about becoming vulnerable, being honest instead of disappearing in the middle of the night after hiding my feelings for years?
‘Okay, actually, we could probably use your opinion… professionally. And I’ll pay for your time.’
He tried to wave it away as if he hadn’t been desperate for that, but I could tell he was. There was something about Euan; he was always down on his luck and yet you almost believed him when he said he just couldn’t figure out why he was so unlucky. It was the charm, that smile and the fact that he was such a good time to be around. At least at the beginning.
I’d throw him a bone, for old time’s sake, and we’d get divorced and move on with our lives. Plus, I felt somehow guilty now that Brodie had reappeared. Nothing had even happened, but it felt like I had cheated.
God, the arguments we’d had about Brodie in those years. How Euan was second best, how he could never live up to my expectations. That I’d never even have looked at him if Brodie hadn’t left. That one was true enough, and it was that truth that made me give in every time. Caving with silent apologies of sweetness and sex, brushing back the hair at his temple and telling him I loved him.
He was right, and I spent our relationship apologizing for the truth.
But maybe one more apology would do the job. He’d make enough money and move on, finding himself some poor unavailable woman elsewhere. Luckily none of my girls at the club were stupid enough to fall for his particular brand of charm. I could handle him for a couple of weeks. Maybe I owed him that much.
Giving him that was preferable to telling him the truth about why I’d left.
Euan followed me through to the bar and took a seat whilst I went back to the group meeting. The whiteboard was now so full of words, suggestions and badly drawn pictures that I wanted to scream. There was a tangle of words all in different colours and I had to breathe deeply and remind myself that if I didn’t adapt, I would lose the one thing I’d built.
‘Well, looks like we’ve been doing good work here, darlings!’ I put some energy into my voice. ‘Lots of great ideas – a builder friend of mine has actually turned up, so I’m going to get him to take a look at the place, and if you have any suggestions about layout or the building, let me know!
Jacques gave me a look, then tilted his head. ‘Bel, can I borrow you for a second?’
I knew what was coming, and shook my head. ‘Jacques, darling, could you show Euan around here, get his notes on building structure and anything that might be concerning? You’ve been here whilst everyone’s been chatting, so you can ask him about some of the ideas.’
Jacques nodded, suddenly less concerned. I wasn’t intending to spend time with Euan, or let him worm his way back in, even for old time’s sake. So Jacques would interact with him, and we’d all be equally unhappy. Excellent.
I stood at the table. ‘Kitchen team – we’re going to need some food for all this brainstorming. Go and make us a variety of different plates – show off what you can do, the kind of thing you’d like to see on the Martini Club menu. Impress me.’
They stood up and left, and I was pleased to see some of the minor kitchen members looked excited, happy to be given a chance. Even Jake the pot wash got up and started talking about ingredients. So there was potential sitting everywhere, right under my nose.
Ricardo threw me a grateful smile and followed behind them.
I clapped my hands. ‘Okay, bartenders. We’re going to need some brain juice to keep us going – show me what you’ve got, please. What should the new and improved Martini Club be serving? Nothing too sweet or obvious.’
Aria jumped up as if she was suddenly inspired, smiling shyly at me as she followed Caspar and Emily to the bar.
‘This is some Ready Steady Cook stuff going on, I love it!’ Taya exclaimed. ‘What do we do, create a new performance that’ll blow everyone’s socks off?’
I laughed. ‘Not quite, but almost. I want you to think about the performances that went down the best, the ones with the biggest cheers, the most reviews, the ones everyone mentions when they come up to you. And I want you to think about the performances you loved the most, and why.’
I paused, about to walk away, but turned back. ‘And if I’ve ever said no to a performance you wanted to do, now’s the time to revisit it. Don’t miss your chance.’
Charlotte squeaked in excitement, clapping her hands and looking at Taya meaningfully. I guess everyone was fighting their battles, and sometimes they were with me.
We carried on our planning and discussing that afternoon, and the lunch the kitchen team made was amazing. Everything was fresh, vibrant and tasty. But it was still missing that spark. The cocktails were new and interesting, but there was no theme, no overarching person tying them together, the way the original menu had. I had been the theme – the kind of place Arabella Hailstone would own. Everything was slick and sharp – strong flavours, good whisky, Martinis with bite. It had adapted gradually over the years, but the core ideas were still there. The club and I were intertwined, it seemed. So whilst I was trying to figure out who I was, the club was apparently doing the same.
By the time we reached three p.m. we were all exhausted. I walked home, my head full of ideas, fighting against the fatigue I felt like I was forging ahead in a storm, and even though I didn’t feel confident that I knew where we were going, at least I was doing something.
There had just been so much talking. So many things people wanted me to change and improve. As much as that room was full of love, it was akin to those years of my mother picking away at me, critiquing my technique, or my thighs, or my dedication for hours on end whilst I pretended I thought I could be better. It was too much for me to take then, and it was almost as difficult now.
I stood in front of the door to my flat, and thought about my mother now, walking on eggshells and so careful not to upset me, to try and be one of those other types of mothers. I was grateful, but God it was exhausting.
Instead, I’d see Sam, have a moan and drink a glass of whisky, before I decided to face my afternoon and the notes my team had given me. As I trudged up those extra stairs, I texted the number Brodie had given me last night.
I took your advice. Today was hard but I’m on my way. Bel x
By the time I stood in front of Sam’s door, my phone had already buzzed.
It was your advice actually. Glad you’re fixing things. Brodie x
I pushed through the open door, about to call out to Sam. It was earlier than usual, so there was a chance he was downstairs in the shop. I walked through the hall into the living room, where I had wandered in so many times before, almost daily since I’d moved here. It was expected, after all this time, that I could come and go as I pleased.
Which was why it was such a shock to see my mother, sitting on Sam’s sofa, kissing him.
I blinked but the image didn’t blur or move. He cradled her head gently, like he thought she’d break, and I wondered how even someone as smart as Sam could still get himself into this situation.
Okay, I knew she liked him, and I knew he enjoyed having someone to talk to about everything he was going through. But I honestly had thought that she would throw herself at him, he’d tell her to cut it the hell out, and they’d be weird friends.
I didn’t think this was a thing.
I suddenly had a vision of them sitting me down like they were my parents and I was the hysterical child who was making mountains out of molehills, and I couldn’t tell if I wanted to laugh or cry.
The one man in my life I could rely on, the one man I had cared about enough to let in, and she’d had to have him too. I had crafted myself father figures out of old movies, Johnny Cash songs and Sam Callaghan. Picking a real person was always a danger.
God, I hoped she wouldn’t hurt him. And what happened when she went back home?
Oh God, what if she never went back home? I pulled the door gently closed and backed away.
Hey, I texted Brodie. Are you free to meet now?
The reply was swift. Running some errands, but you can come along if you like. Everything okay?
My mother, I replied. Where can I meet you?
South Ken station in half an hour?
I marched to the station with determination. The sunshine kissed my shoulders and I tried not to think about my mum and Sam. He’d heard everything about her, he knew how much she’d messed me up, and still he fell for it. I knew she was trying to change, but now I started to wonder if this was all just for a guy.
Apparently I wasn’t doing a good job of not thinking about it. It was moments like this that I realized I had no one to call, no one to moan at or share annoying parts of my life with. I always looked at what Savvy had with her best friend Mia with a sort of jealousy. You could see it easily between them when they came to the club – a shared history, this sort of sisterly love that had been formed over years of boy drama and family issues. Mia’s dad had passed away recently, and I’d seen her in the club, Savvy on guard-dog alert to keep her safe, happy and pleasantly drunk. It was sweet to watch.
It was too late to have that now – how on earth did you make new, real friends in your thirties? I certainly wasn’t about to join a pottery club or start talking to the yummy mummies in my dance class. In spite of what they tell single women in their fifties, hobbies are not always the answer. At least, not for women who own failing businesses and have more important things to deal with.
But now Brodie was back… and Euan too. The only two people I’d confided in were men. I wondered if that meant anything. Brodie had been good for the confiding, but had enough on his plate. Euan had always been a big fan of the ‘it’ll all be fine’ response, but back then he could distract me with a kiss or a joke. Not really what I needed.
I jumped on the Tube and immediately felt a drop of sweat side down between my shoulder blades. Summer had arrived, and with it the warnings to stay hydrated and jump off the Underground if you felt faint. These days I always felt faint, like I wanted to fall into a dramatic swoon, but there was no one there to catch me.
At South Kensington there were children swarming the exits and I should have remembered that it was a school holiday – this station was always intensely busy, even at the best of times, but it was only now that I started to wonder what ‘errands’ Brodie would have to run around this area. Picking up equipment? Checking the sound for one of the museums? Maybe it was all a ruse and he was just taking the time to enjoy himself.
‘Bel!’ I heard his voice amongst the fray, but had to look around a few times until I saw him waving by the entrance to the walkway. I slipped in and out through slow-walking tourists and excitable children, and got through the barrier unscathed.
‘Hey!’ I exclaimed, trying to cool myself off by fanning my T-shirt. ‘Didn’t think I’d be able to find you.’
‘Well, we made sure we were well placed,’ Brodie said with a smile, and I looked down as people pushed in between us, to notice a young boy standing there with a grin on his face. His fairly long brown hair flopped over his eyebrows, and he had a tell-tale dimple in his left cheek.
‘Hi!’ the boy said, waving, his other hand holding on to Brodie’s.
‘Hi…’ I looked at Brodie with a clear question. ‘So when we caught up last night, did you forget to mention something pretty important?’
Brodie nodded slowly, ‘Forgot… got distracted… wanted to surprise you?’
I smiled a little too toothily. A kid. I was terrible with kids. And a boy! I didn’t know about boys! I couldn’t even sway him with tiaras and make-up, the way I had with Charlotte’s daughter.
‘This is my son, Declan,’ Brodie said, shaking the kid’s hand in his, and making him laugh. ‘Dec, this is my old friend Bel.’
‘Brrrring brrrrring!’ The child made a strange, high-pitched nose, and I just looked at him.
‘I was being a bell…’ He blinked at me and, obviously not seeing what he wanted, suddenly turned to his dad. ‘So, we’re going to the Natural Hist’ry museum now, yes?’
‘Yes.’ Brodie nodded, and looked at me with half an apology encased in a wicked smile. ‘And Bel’s going to come with us, aren’t you, Bel?’
‘I… guess so?’
Brodie pointed at me. ‘Good answer!’
Declan talked ten to the dozen on the walk through the tunnel that led us to the museum. I hadn’t realized how exhausting children were. They seemed to want to tell you all the inane details of their life, along with every thought or feeling they had at that point, and they seemed to believe this information was interesting.
It was already clear I’d had no interaction with kids, because every time Declan asked a question, I kept trying to answer it.
‘But why are dinosaurs so old?’ he asked with frustration.
‘What do you mean why? They just are. They’re from a really long time ago,’ I said, frowning at Brodie.
‘But what about Komodo dragons?’ Declan replied triumphantly.
‘… What about them?’
‘They’re not old. They happen now.’
‘I… but dinosaurs and dragons are different!’ I tried to hold back my frustration, and Brodie grinned at me.
‘Why are they different?’
I blinked and looked at Brodie, who took pity on me. ‘Hey, little man, what’s your favourite dinosaur?’
Declan became appropriately distracted, nattering on about the different types of dinosaurs and why each one was great, and I just blinked at Brodie in shock.
‘You get used to it,’ he said, nudging me with his shoulder. ‘The constant onslaught of information.’
I wasn’t sure if I was the sort of person who got used to things like that. Sure, I didn’t have any significant parental experience, or any practice, but I didn’t have children for a reason. I didn’t want them. I didn’t dislike them, and it wasn’t, as my mother constantly pointed out, that I didn’t have a man and I was running out of time. I had made a decision. I was quite up for being the cool auntie who showered them in impressive gifts and was the person they ran away to when they were teenagers, but I didn’t have any friends who had kids.
Charlotte occasionally brought her daughter to a rehearsal during half term if it couldn’t be avoided, but the little girl was quiet and sweet, happy to sit in a booth colouring, or bopping along to the music in the corner, dancing her own routine. She didn’t require much. I gave her ice cream and we smiled at each other. That was pretty much the extent of my interactions with children.
I didn’t know how to function with a random child. Even one that Brodie had made. I guessed this had to be part of the whole ‘marriage that didn’t take’. Why wouldn’t he mention he had a kid? Surely that was one of the first things people brought up when bumping into an old friend?
I didn’t say anything, and we walked into the grand entrance of the museum.
I always forgot how different spaces in this city took my breath away. The high ceilings as you walked in, the feeling that you were tiny in comparison, it always made me sigh.
‘Wow,’ Declan said, his head tilted back to look up at the ceiling.
Hey, maybe we did have some things in common. I doubted the kid liked a dry gin Martini or a sparkly cape, but at a shared sense of wonder was a good place to start.
‘Come on!’ Declan grabbed Brodie’s hand and pulled him along, so Brodie reached out for me and grabbed mine, and I joined the chain.
It was a strange feeling, to be included in something like this.
Once we started walking around, Declan was happy enough to run off, read something intently, then come back and explain it to us before running off again. He remained in sight, and I kept watching as he spoke for signs of Brodie in his mannerisms. His accent, of course, wasn’t the same; the boy was all Londoner, clipped vowels and sharp consonants. He was what old people walking past would call ‘well spoken’. His mop of dark hair was curly like Brodie’s had been when he was younger, when he’d pulled it back into a ponytail.
‘My God, he looks like Jason,’ I said suddenly when the child went running off again, determined to read all about whales.
‘I know, it freaks me out sometimes.’ Brodie laughed. ‘I go to tease him and suddenly remember I’m a dad and that’s mean.’
‘So… how did that happen? Being a dad?’ I cleared my throat, and Brodie gave me a look.
‘In… the usual way… I guess?’
‘I mean, wife, marriage, baby, divorce? There’s a story there, darling, no?’ When I got nervous my Arabella voice became more pronounced. I was a little too spiky and I tried to shake it off.
Brodie shrugged, keeping an eye on his son before smiling at me. ‘I know there’s always got to be drama, but there wasn’t. I was seeing Natalie for about six months, and we got pregnant, so we got married and Declan came along. Tried to make the best of it, but we just didn’t work together. We’re still friends, though, we co-parent. It’s really the best situation. Dec’s happy, we’re both happy. It’s all good.’
I blinked. ‘That’s… that’s an option? To leave on good terms and be friends?’
Brodie laughed. ‘We didn’t work. But we got our kid, and we’re actually on the same page about parenting. Not really the same page about anything else, just different personalities. After seeing how my parents were… it feels good to be part of a team.’
‘Wow.’
It was almost impossible to imagine. One of the things we’d bonded over as teenagers was the lack of father figures. I was particularly lucky, in Brodie’s opinion, not knowing who my father was. I’d never had a dad, and so could never miss him, or be disappointed in him. Brodie’s father had been a big character when he was a child, a big Scottish man built like a bear, who’d met Tina when working in Belfast. He’d stuck around long enough to get married, start a family and drink himself into an angry, twisted state. When Tina found out she was sick, he was gone. I’d never really understood why his mum would up sticks from Northern Ireland to come to England, but her sister was nearby, and Brodie always said they’d moved around a lot. He said he didn’t know where home was any more.
I knew Brodie felt that I had the upper hand, out of the two of us. You can’t be embarrassed by or disappointed by someone who never existed.
But when you were exhausted and hungry at 4.30 a.m. the idea that there was a man out there, a kind, loving man who just couldn’t deal with your mother, but would have loved you and taken you away if he’d known you existed – that got me through most of my childhood. My mother blamed my birth for getting her off track, ruining her chances at a career in dance, even though everything had come to a stop for her years before I’d arrived.
There had never been any mention of my father – it was as if there was no need for that chromosome in my creation. My mother had simply cloned herself to make me; I was created in her image. All those times I tried to ask her about my dad, who he might be and what he was like, she just shut down and made me go for a run until I stopped asking.
Of course, it was my grandmother who eventually had the answer, in her descent into senility – he was no one. A young guy my tempestuous mother had gone home with one night, flattered to be picked out amongst her friends, so certain of her own beauty and poise. She’d had a few too many drinks, a quick shag with a stranger, and there I was, her chance at redemption, her chance at perfection.
Not everything was a story of love and heartbreak, and apparently that was true for Brodie too. Though it was hard to imagine.
‘And if I spoke to your ex-wife, she’d agree with this, that there’s no hard feelings, everything’s cool?’
Brodie raised an eyebrow. ‘Someone doesn’t trust anyone.’
‘Sometimes people who think no one got hurt are the ones who do the hurting,’ I replied. I had learnt that well enough.
‘Fine,’ Brodie said, turning back to his son, who came running over to drag us both across the room. ‘Hey, Dec, how’s Colin?’
Declan shrugged. ‘He’s good, he’s taking me to karate on Tuesday, and then we get to have burgers.’
‘You have fun together?’ Brodie asked, and the young boy blinked.
‘Am I not meant to, Dad?’
Brodie laughed. ‘No, kid, I’m telling Bel here how lucky you are to have all these awesome adults in your life who love you.’
‘Yeah, cool, can we go to the gift shop on the way out?’ Declan was already distracted by the presentation across the way, and wandered over.
‘Colin is your ex’s new boyfriend?’ I asked.
‘Husband,’ Brodie said, those light eyes laughing at me, ‘Good guy. We go for a beer sometimes. Terrible taste in music, and he’s kind of a sports person, but I like him. He’s good with Dec too.’
‘Seriously?’ I yelped, nudging him slightly. ‘This can’t be real.’
‘It can, darlin’, I assure you. People who were never crazy broken in love, but always got along well… being kind to each other. It works.’
‘So your life is perfect?’ I asked him.
‘Ha!’ His eyes scanned the crowds, focused on Declan and nodded, before turning back to me. ‘What’s perfect?’
‘You’re not missing anything? There’s no big gap?’ I said. ‘You’re making music, you work, you have a family, and your freedom. You have a positive relationship with your kid and your ex. What could be missing?’
Brodie smiled to himself, but said nothing.
‘What?’
He shook his head.
‘What!’ I smiled myself, I couldn’t help it.
‘Sometimes you don’t realize something’s missing until it suddenly arrives and reminds you,’ Brodie said, those green eyes twinkling as he took my hand, and carried on walking like it was the simplest thing in the world.
I was surprised how much I enjoyed the afternoon. As much as children slightly perturbed me, Declan seemed pretty easy after all. I realized he liked my random facts, and I had hundreds of them.
‘Did you know…’ I started a sentence, and immediately he would turn to me with interest. I was taken aback by those eyes, so much like his father’s, and his laugh, which sounded similar. As nostalgia seemed to sprinkle possibility between me and Brodie, I found myself wondering whether I could do this – be that cool auntie character to a child I always thought I might be.
This was all great until we had an ice-cream-eating contest and the child projectile-vomited in the bushes outside Kensington station.
‘And that tells me that our fun afternoon is over.’ Brodie threw me an apologetic look, handing Declan a bottle of water and whipping out a pack of baby wipes from his tiny backpack. ‘You okay, buddy?’
‘It was worth it!’ Declan gave me a huge drippy smile. ‘Caramel is the best flavour ice cream, isn’t it, Bel?’
‘It definitely is.’ I smiled. ‘But I’m sorry you were sick!’
He shrugged. ‘I get over-excited sometimes. I’m working on it.’
I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing and looked up at Brodie, who was failing to hide a smile. ‘Okay, time to say goodbye.’
I waved at Declan, but he decided to throw his sticky little arms around me, and I tried not to wince thinking about the ice cream marks on my T-shirt as he pressed his face against my hip. Apparently I was okay at this kid thing.
‘Bye, Bel! Brrrring brrrrring! Come back soon, we’re going to the science museum next time. I bet you know facts about space!’ Declan looked up at me.
‘You know… I do know some facts about space… but why don’t you look some up and see if you can surprise me for next time?’
Declan nodded eagerly, and I looked up at Brodie, who was smiling at me. ‘Next time, hey, darlin’?’
I gestured at his son. ‘Well, apparently I’m very in demand. Got a problem with that?’
He shook his head, and walked over to kiss me on the cheek. I held my breath a little as my chest fluttered. Old friend old friend old friend. It didn’t mean anything. It was just nostalgia and relief at finally having someone.
‘Let’s have the next date be an adult-only affair, okay?’ he whispered, before pulling Declan along behind him and heading off into the Tube.
Date. A date. With Brodie Porter.
Well, that was unexpected. As unexpected as getting along with a sticky-handed child, and actually enjoying their company? No. But unexpected all the same.
Of course, now I was left to go home, where my mother and Sam might be snuggling on his sofa, or eating dinner. When Jacques had gone home to his partner, and my staff had gone home to their families… I just went home.