‘Here you are,’ Amy said, skipping into my room. ‘Should have known I’d find you behind a desk.’
‘Hey, what time is it?’ I waved behind me and rubbed my screen-sore eyes. It felt as though I had been staring at the same blank page forever but I still had nothing for the Perito’s pitch but a notebook full of scribbled out statements and lots of Pinterest boards of badly cooked chickens. ‘How was the shop thing?’
‘It’s nearly seven and the shop thing was great and you need to get dressed for dinner.’ She walked straight over to my wardrobe and pulled out a pair of jeans and a black silk long-sleeved top. ‘Come on. I’ve got loads of exciting things to tell you.’
‘I think I’m just going to get this finished,’ I said, nodding at the computer. ‘I need another hour or so.’
‘Have you spoken to Charlie?’
‘No.’
‘Have you spoken to Nick?’
‘No.’
‘Let’s go out and get something to eat,’ she said, holding up the black top and waving the arms around. ‘Kekipi is downstairs, waiting. You’ve got to eat, woman.’
I flicked my eyes over to my peacefully charging iPhone. She wanted to go out? We weren’t all eating dinner together?
‘I’m not really in the mood to go out,’ I said, rolling my shoulders and flicking attention back to my blank PowerPoint presentation. ‘You go. Have something yummy for me.’
‘So I saw Domenico on my way up.’ Amy walked over to the desk and leaned against my shoulders. ‘He reckons Nick’s still not back from wherever he went this morning.’
‘Must be something important then.’ I sucked in my cheeks and pursed my lips at the computer monitor. How could he go missing after what had happened? What kind of person reacted to a declaration of love by vanishing? Other than me?
Amy rested her chin on the top of my head. ‘You’ve been sitting at this desk since I left, haven’t you?’
‘Yes?’
‘Which was six hours ago.’
‘Yes?’
‘Wow, it’s almost like we’ve travelled back in time.’
‘I’ve got work to do.’
‘Fine.’ She wrapped herself around me from the back of my chair, squeezing my arms against my body and leaning over my chair. ‘You’re forcing me to do this, you realize.’
Before I could move, she pressed Apple and ‘S’ then jabbed the power key on the monitor.
‘Amy, you shit!’ I exhaled hard. ‘I’m halfway through something.’
‘And you’ll always be halfway through something until someone makes you stop,’ she said, diving across the floor to pull the plug on my computer altogether. I gasped as the little white light in the front faded into darkness. ‘This is for your own good.’
The way I looked at it, I had two choices. I could throw Amy out of the window and tell everyone that she fell, or I could punch her in the boob, get changed and eat some dinner.
‘Just so you know,’ I said, picking up the jeans and top and heading for the bathroom. ‘I’m going to punch you in the boob as soon as I’ve had a wee.’
‘Excellent!’ She flopped onto my bed and raised her arms in victory. ‘Can’t wait.’
‘Buona sera.’
The world’s happiest waiter greeted our little gang as we walked into the restaurant. Al had declined our dinner invitation for reasons unknown and Nick was still AWOL, leaving me, Amy and Kekipi to fend for ourselves.
‘Buona sera,’ Kekipi replied in his gentle, lilting Italian. ‘Tavolo per tre, per favore?’
Our waiter waved us forward, guiding us through a tidy maze of square tables covered with sharp white linens and populated by stately looking older gentlemen in suits, and elegantly dressed middle-aged women who spoke to each other in rapid Italian. I ran the backs of my hands lightly over my nose and forehead, hoping to dispel as much shine as possible. How did they look so well put together? And there wasn’t a natural look in the place: every woman had their hair and make-up done and no one looked like they were about to melt. My hair was already piled high on top of my head but the jeans and long-sleeved top had been a mistake. If it hadn’t been for all the mirrors on the walls, I would have stripped down to my pants but we were planning to eat and I didn’t want to be put off my own dinner.
Once I had been shamed by every woman in the restaurant, we finally arrived at our table, right at the back of the room, tucked away from the classy diners near the window.
‘Are they ashamed of us or something?’ Amy asked, taking her seat as the waiter pulled out her dark-wood chair. ‘Shoving us in the back?’
‘I booked under Al’s name,’ Kekipi explained with a nod to the waiter. ‘This is the best table in the restaurant. Away from the riffraff.’
‘Amy’s so used to being the riffraff, she didn’t realize,’ I said, dabbing myself down with my napkin. ‘It’s lovely.’
‘So what?’ She smiled brilliantly at the waiter as he flicked her napkin onto her lap. ‘They don’t have a seating hierarchy in Pizza Hut.’
‘There is a time and a place for Pizza Hut but this is a little nicer.’ Kekipi said something to the waiter that included the word vino and made my stomach turn ever so slightly. ‘Make sure you save room for dessert. Or make yourself sick in between courses. The choice is yours but you won’t want to miss out.’
‘I don’t think I’d have to force myself to throw up if there’s wine involved,’ I said, my face turning green just from looking at the empty glasses on the table. ‘I think I’m going to be sober sister tonight.’
‘All the more for us,’ Kekipi said with a friendly shrug. ‘So, tell me stories. I spent all day shackled to Domenico the Dull planning the party for Friday night and honestly, that man wouldn’t know a good time if it crawled up his butt and did the merengue. Hopefully some fun will be had, but believe me when I tell you it was an uphill struggle.’
‘Sounds like it’s going well?’ I gave the waiter what I hoped was an internationally recognized smile for “I don’t speak your language but I appreciate your service” as he poured me a glass of water.
‘Jane planned all Bennett bashes,’ he said a little sadly. ‘We haven’t really had a party since she passed, but Al is determined to go all out with this. You know what they say: behind every great man is a strong woman. And behind every strong woman is an entire gang of fantastic homosexuals with the perfect snappy comeback and an even better colour scheme. It’ll be as good as it can possibly be.’
‘I can’t wait,’ I said, chugging my water. ‘All I did today was work, so you win.’
‘I worked too,’ Amy said. ‘We went to Edward Warren’s studio this morning and then me and Al went to look at a shop he’s thinking about renting.’
‘And how was Mr Warren this morning?’ Kekipi asked, nodding at the wine our waiter had brought over for his approval. ‘It’s been such a long time since I’ve seen him, I’d forgotten how delightfully sleazy he is.’
‘That just about covers it,’ I said, shuddering at the memory of his not-so-tasteful nudes. ‘He offered to take some pictures of Amy in the buff.’
‘Not that I’m encouraging you …’ He paused, sipped the wine and swilled thoughtfully before giving the waiter a second nod. ‘But that man is richer than Croesus.’
‘Was Jesus rich?’ Amy asked. ‘I thought he was supposed to be poor.’
Kekipi shook his head and tasted the wine before the waiter poured him a full a glass.
‘And to be fair, you don’t have a job,’ I said, covering my wine glass with my hand, equally proud and disappointed in myself.
‘Actually, I kind of do,’ Amy said, exclusively proud.
I blinked and then remembered to smile. ‘Topshop called?’
‘No.’ She cleared her throat and shuffled in her seat, throwing back her shoulders and pulling herself up to her full five feet. ‘Al offered me a job and I said yes.’
‘You’re joining the family?’ Kekipi clapped, clearly delighted. ‘Oh, young Padawan, I will teach you all I know.’
‘Al offered you a job doing what exactly?’
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized I did not sound as supportive as I could have been.
‘I mean, yay,’ I added. ‘Woo.’
The grin on her face wavered for a moment before she regrouped and turned her attention to Kekipi.
‘We were walking around the shop and he was asking me what I’d do if it were mine,’ she said, after a big sip of wine. I could see she was trying to play down her excitement and I felt terrible. ‘And you know, I had loads of ideas and Al really loved them all and he said it would be brilliant if I would help him, you know, bring those ideas to life and I agreed and I’m going to work with him on realizing his concept stores. I’m, like, a consultant.’
‘Well, cheers to that.’ Kekipi raised his glass. ‘To Amy the consultant.’
‘Amy the consultant,’ I echoed. ‘That’s amazing.’
‘You can’t cheers,’ Amy said, pulling her glass away from mine. ‘It’s bad luck to toast with water. I don’t want your bad luck.’
‘Yeah, that’s the last thing you need,’ I said, still struggling to get my head around her new job. ‘So, what are you actually going to be doing? And where are you going to be doing it?’
‘We’re still working it all out.’ The edges of her mouth tensed slightly. ‘But it’ll most likely be based in Milan for now. We’re going to be looking at concept stores in other cities eventually.’
‘This is so exciting,’ Kekipi said quickly, raising his glass again. ‘I didn’t realize you were such a retail guru.’
‘Oh yeah, I’ve worked in loads of shops. This is basically what I’ve spent my entire career working towards. Totally meant to be.’
Even though every atom of my body knew it was a horrible thing to do, I sat back in my chair and let out the tiniest, quietest snort.
‘Excuse me?’ Amy pulled up the strap of her neon-green sundress and gave me a look. ‘What was that for?’
‘Oh, you know what?’ Kekipi pushed out his chair and quickly stood up. ‘I might just use the restroom before we order.’
‘Did you just laugh at me?’ Amy asked, her smile gone.
‘No, I didn’t laugh.’ I closed my eyes and gave myself a mental slap. ‘I accidentally made a badly timed noise. It didn’t mean anything.’
‘I know you’re the super amazing career girl and I’m the hilarious unemployed fuck-up,’ she replied, folding and refolding the napkin in her lap. ‘But I can do this. You weren’t there – Al really liked my ideas.’
‘I didn’t say you couldn’t do this,’ I replied. ‘I don’t think that at all. I’m just as hilariously unemployed as you right now, aren’t I?’
‘No,’ she said calmly, ‘last time I checked, you had two jobs to choose from. Because it always works out for you and it never works out for me, does it?’
‘I’ve only ever had one job,’ I pointed out, not nearly as calmly. ‘So I think “it always works out for me” is a bit of an exaggeration. And maybe it hasn’t worked out for you yet because you haven’t found something you want to stick at.’
She pursed her lips and ran a finger round the rim of her wine glass. ‘So now I’m a slacker who can’t stick to anything?’
Oh, fuck a duck. I bit my thumbnail, trying to work out how I had managed to dig myself into such a deep hole so incredibly quickly.
‘I feel like you haven’t really loved any of the jobs you’ve had before,’ I was trying so hard to choose my words carefully but all I could hear was the sound of a shovel hitting the soil. ‘And all those jobs have been retail.’
She stared at me while raising her glass to her lips.
‘Apart from that one where you dressed up as a fox outside the bingo hall. That wasn’t retail. And you actually did that for ages.’
She finished her entire glass of wine in two gulps and placed the glass back on the table.
‘So you think I should go back to handing out fliers in a sweaty second-hand animal costume?’ she asked.
‘That’s clearly not what I said,’ I replied, waving my hands in the air and fitting right in with everyone else in the restaurant. ‘No one should have to hand out fliers in a sweaty second-hand animal costume.’
‘I’m sorry my previous career choices weren’t good enough for you,’ she snapped. ‘But I never wanted to sit chained to a desk, being miserable and wasting my life. If I’m unhappy, I don’t stay in a job and convince myself it’s OK for seven years.’
‘Then what happens when you get sick of this job after three months?’ I said, with a slight snap of my own. ‘You just going to call Al and tell him you’re poorly then never show up for work? Again?’
She picked up her menu and flicked her fringe away from her forehead. ‘That’s not going to happen.’
‘Because it’s never happened before,’ I said, picking up my own menu and pretending to read about the specials. ‘Obviously.’
‘Oh, shut up!’ Amy slapped her menu back on the table, making the cutlery bounce and rattle. ‘I’m going to do this, I’m going to be great at it and you are going to owe me a massive apology.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ I replied, straightening my knife and fork. ‘For Al’s sake.’
‘For Al’s sake,’ she repeated. ‘Glad you’re so worried about me.’
‘Of course I’m worried about you,’ I said. ‘I’m always worried about you, but Al has been really good to me and I don’t want you to get into this without thinking it through and then pack it in. This is a really big deal to him and he doesn’t know you and you don’t know him and I know you’ve done loads of retail but you haven’t ever really done anything like this, have you?’
‘I’ve spent more hours working in shops than you’ve spent taking pictures,’ she said, looking me dead in the eye. ‘Al took a chance on you and it worked out, didn’t it? Did you have this conversation with yourself before you came out here? Because as I remember it, you were pretty happy to come and fanny about in Milan for a week and then sod off back to London and Charlie and the agency if it didn’t work out, weren’t you? Wouldn’t that qualify as letting Al down?’
I felt my cheeks redden and looked away.
‘I’m going to do this, Tess, and I’m going to be good at it. The reason I haven’t stuck to stuff before was because I was bored. The jobs were boring. This is going to be a challenge and Al is going to help me and teach me, not just send me to the stockroom with a tagging gun and a load of manky, sweaty boob tubes that some twat of a teenager who doesn’t use deodorant wore out once and then brought back.’
‘I’m sorry …’ I blew out a big, heavy breath. ‘If you want to do this, you should do it. It sounds really exciting.’
‘It is really exciting,’ she said, casually swiping her hand across her cheek. ‘I’m really excited.’
Oh God, I’d made her cry. What an absolute shitbag. I silently willed her eyes to dry up while she concentrated on her menu with glossy eyes.
‘So tell me about the shop – where is it?’ I asked with far more enthusiasm than necessary. ‘What are you planning?’
‘It’s on Via della Spiga,’ she replied with a sniffle. ‘And I don’t know yet. I just suggested some stuff and Al thought it would be good. Whatever.’
‘What are we all having?’ Kekipi arrived back at the table just as the tension simmered down to quiet resentment and an awkward silence. ‘Have you decided?’
‘I might start with the Caprese salad,’ I said, trying to communicate everything that had happened in the last four minutes with my eyebrows. Sadly, while they were plentiful, they were not magical. ‘What about you, Amy?’
‘Dunno,’ she replied with a sullen look.
‘Excellent.’ Kekipi laid his napkin across his knee and gave me a stern look. ‘Fantastic. More wine, anyone?’
‘I might have a half,’ I said, holding out my glass.
Kekipi filled it almost to the brim before emptying the rest of the bottle into Amy’s and then waving it at the waiter.
‘Wine makes everything better,’ he explained. ‘And anyway, it’s impossible to get drunk when you’re eating pasta. Soaks it all up. Now, Tess, the Caprese salad, you said? Sounds delicious.’
I nodded, sipping my wine very, very slowly while Amy chugged half the glass right away. Maybe I should have stayed in my room, after all.
Kekipi had been right about one thing: the food was delicious. Unfortunately he had been either misinformed or lying through his back teeth about everything else. Wine did not make everything better and the pasta did not soak it right up. Two bottles later and Amy was struggling to wind her spaghetti onto her fork and Kekipi’s eyes had taken on a distinctly glazed look. I was still nursing my first glass, very keen not to throw up or lose my shoes again. I could only abandon them so many times before they started to take it personally.
‘Still no word from Nick?’ Amy asked, attempting to spear a slice of sausage from her plate before giving up and diving in with her fingers. ‘Nothing at all?’
I shook my head and filled my mouth with fish.
‘You two are fantastic,’ Kekipi contributed while sawing up his steak. ‘You’re my second favourite couple after Kim and Kanye. Why can’t you see what’s so obvious to everyone else?’
‘It’s confusing,’ I said, pushing up my long sleeves for the thousandth time. Silk might look pretty but it did not stay put. ‘One minute he says he hates me, the next minute we’re kissing.’
‘The next minute you’re shagging like rabbits,’ Amy added. ‘The next minute he has vanished without a trace. Oh my God, do you think he’s married? That he’s got three kids and a wife? Two wives? Seven kids?’
I dropped my knife and fork on my plate and stared while she shovelled food into her mouth. ‘I didn’t before but I do now.’
‘Just a theory,’ she shrugged. ‘It’s that or he is just actually properly mental.’
‘He’s got some trust issues,’ I said. ‘Things were bad with the ex, I think.’
‘You think? You don’t know?’ Kekipi clicked his tongue. ‘Honey, you need to talk to that man and get some sense out of him. We can all see he likes you, we can all see that you like him. Call him. Call him right now.’
‘Ooh, yes, call him!’ Amy came to life, clapping like a toddler who had eaten an entire tube of Smarties. ‘Put him on speakerphone, I’ve got some questions for him.’
‘I’m clearly not going to do that,’ I said, sitting on my bag to prevent Amy from doing it for me. ‘I’ll speak to him tomorrow.’
‘And say what?’ Kekipi asked. ‘Not to be difficult, but you said he has trust issues, no?’
I nodded, assuming I would not like where this was going.
‘Have you told him about your suitor back in London?’
And I was correct.
‘He knows bits,’ I said, eyes down. ‘We haven’t really had a thorough update on the situation. Mostly because he keeps bloody disappearing before we can have a proper conversation.’
‘And when you have that proper conversation, what exactly are you going to say?’ He popped a huge piece of cow in his mouth, giving me a five-second respite. ‘Hmm?’
Hmm, indeed.
‘I was sort of planning to wing it?’
‘No, you’re being a pussy,’ Amy said, in between swallows of wine. ‘About all of it. Make a bloody decision, Tess.’
‘You’ve got to love the mouth on this girl,’ Kekipi said, his mouth still full.
‘First you love Charlie, then you love Nick. First you love advertising, now you love photography.’ She swung her hands from side to side to illustrate her point but only succeeded in knocking a basket of bread out of the hands of a passing waiter. ‘You can’t have everything and you can’t just stay there on the fence. What do you want?’ She narrowed her eyes. Payback time.
Surrounded by a shower of bread rolls, for the wont of a snappier comeback, I shrugged. What I really wanted to do was whine and cry and ask her why she was being so mean before going to my room and taking all my toys with me. But I was twenty-eight and sitting in a restaurant in Milan and I didn’t have any toys with me, so that wasn’t really an option.
‘Life isn’t just about what you want,’ I said, shifting on top of my clutch bag. Beading was not comfortable to sit on. ‘You can’t just do what you want and hope everything will turn out for the best. You’ve got to plan for the future, think ahead. It’s not about what might sound like the most fun now.’
‘Wow!’ Amy closed her eyes and smiled. ‘It’s like sitting here listening to your mum.’
All the colour drained from my face and suddenly, I felt very, very sick.
‘Can you even hear yourself?’ Amy asked. ‘You’re actually sitting there, telling me that what you want doesn’t matter, what makes you happy doesn’t matter. Is that what you want? Marry Charlie, give up your dreams and slog away day in and day out at the agency so you can turn into a bitter, resentful old cow like your mum?’
‘Do I need to go to the restroom again?’ Kekipi asked, switching his stare from me to Amy and back again. ‘Because I didn’t really need to go last time and I’m worried one of the waiters thinks I’m trying to pick him up.’
‘No,’ Amy threw her arm out in front of him, effectively sticking him to his seat, ‘you don’t need to do anything. She’s the one who needs to think about what she just said. You don’t know, Nick or Charlie. You can’t decide, agency or photos. You can decide and you do know but you’ve spent so long listening to, and believing, all your mother’s shit that you don’t believe it.’
She paused for breath and wine.
‘You don’t trust your gut. This is the first time in your entire life you’ve had to make a difficult decision and you’re trying to wimp out of it, but you can’t. If I lived by your logic, I’d be married to Dave and as miserable as sin, maybe even divorced by now. Or worse, I’d be your mum and Brian, sitting around the house, hating each other. Is that what you want? Just be fucking brave for once in your life.’
I stared across the table at the girl who had been my best friend for as long as I’d been alive. When Gareth Hunter pulled her skirt out of her knickers while we were doing handstands, I was the one who chased him round the playground and kicked him in the balls. When I was too embarrassed to get changed for swimming in year nine because my boobs were already enormous, Amy was the one who had performed a Spice Girls’ song-and-dance routine on the other side of the changing room so I could put my cossie on in peace. When Caitlin McGarry, my year ten nemesis, told everyone in the village that Amy had called off said wedding because we were secret lesbians, Amy turned around, grabbed my boobs and announced to the whole church that she could do a lot worse. Which would have been bad enough if we hadn’t been in church at the time. At midnight mass. Completely stinking drunk.
But at that exact moment, I didn’t know her at all. Or at least I didn’t want to know her.
‘I’m really sorry,’ I said, pushing my chair away and standing up, suddenly too hot and too confined and too desperate to be anywhere other than there. ‘I need to go.’
‘Tess …’ Amy stood up to follow me but Kekipi blocked her path. ‘Come on, I’m sorry. Sit down.’
‘No, it’s fine,’ I called out behind me, ricocheting through the tables and grabbing hold of the backs of empty chairs on my way out. ‘Sorry.’
It was dark outside but still so humid that I could feel the sweat trickling down between my shoulder blades and pooling in the small of my back. I felt sick and dizzy and confused and I needed to not be there. The pavement was practically deserted and motorbikes and push bikes lined the streets, suggesting that the bars and restaurants and grand old houses all around me were filled with all the cheering, laughing people I could hear somewhere outside my head. Every so often, I lifted my head and saw lights flickering on in high up windows, or curtains being drawn, closing me out of the happiness inside. Or maybe that was just how it felt. Perhaps they were closing the curtains on their own arguments and dramas. Everyone had their own crises, didn’t they? And everyone felt as though theirs was the most important in the whole wide world.
After a few minutes of careening blindly down the street, I saw a park appear to my left. I had accidentally found my way home, or at least I had found my way to the palazzo. It wasn’t my home; I didn’t actually have one of those. With the park on my left and the palazzo on my right, I did exactly what Amy wanted me to do. I made a decision. Even though I was tired and upset, I was still me and being raped and murdered in an unknown city park in the dark wasn’t at the top of my list of things to do in Milan so I slipped through the gate and sat on the first bench I found, close to the railings that separated the park from the street and let myself breathe.
Why were things never easy? Why were they always either boring, exhausting or so hard I wanted to run into the nearest wall, headfirst, and have the hospital put me in a medically induced coma until it was all better? I rubbed my clammy hands up and down my jeans and tried to clear my head. Everything was shouting in there and I couldn’t concentrate. Charlie and his chickens and Nick and Al and the photos for the party and what was Artie doing at Edward Warren’s and what if Amy let Al down and poor Kekipi, losing his one true love all those years ago?
‘One thing at a time, Tess,’ I whispered, my voice strange against the quiet of the trees around me, and the passing scooters that whirred down the Corso Venezia. ‘One thing at a time.’
Without knowing why, I put my hand into the back pocket of my jeans and pulled out a napkin that I’d scribbled on the night before Milan to try to marshall my thoughts. A four-point plan. Get a camera, go to Milan, come home, win the Perito’s pitch. Had I been smoking crack that day? Had I really thought it would be that easy?
It almost made me laugh that the one thing that I had been so sure of, the Perito’s pitch, was the one thing I felt the most defeated by. No one was ever going to accuse me of being an expert in how to deal with men, and even fewer people would send you my way if you needed a top photographer, but advertising was the one thing I knew. Only not this time. I’d spent all afternoon reading the brief over and over and I had nothing. I didn’t want to let Charlie down, but even more than that, I didn’t want to fail. I never failed at anything. But then again, how many things had I actually tried?
At the same time, I was having the best time taking the photos for Al’s project. Shooting Jane’s clothes, their designs, Warren’s samples – every time my right finger clicked the camera, I felt a buzz. It was exciting. But did that mean I should give up everything I’d ever known? A career I’d worked hard for? You didn’t walk away from something just because it wasn’t exciting any more or because something else seemed shiny and new. But there had to be a compromise, a middle ground between the Amy way, chasing after life like a kitten with a ping pong ball, and my old way. Or, as much as I hated to admit it, my mother’s way.
Amy was right, life was supposed to be lived, not endured. If Al hadn’t chased after Jane when she was engaged to another man, I wouldn’t be sitting in this slightly creepy park in Milan on my own in the dark. OK, that wasn’t the best example, but if Al hadn’t taken his chance when it came along, I would never have got the call to work for him in the first place, I would never have borrowed-slash-stolen my camera and I would never have met Nick. Maybe it was time to give the path less travelled a proper look.
I stood up, screwed the napkin up into a ball and tossed it in the bin at the side of the bench.
‘Don’t be a wimp, Tess,’ I told myself, biting colour back into my lips and heading back to the palazzo. ‘It’s time to be brave. Don’t be such a chicken.’
I stopped dead in my tracks, feeling my eyes widen with delight.
‘Don’t be a chicken,’ I repeated, the smile that had started in my eyes finding its way down to my mouth. ‘Be brave.’
Sometimes, I thought as I raced across the street and ran through the gates of the palazzo, I was so good, I scared myself.