Mescal

We are on first name terms with the waiters and rewarded for years of patronage with strawberry daiquiris on arrival. Virgin for Farah, who doesn’t drink alcohol. On the house, olé!

‘The usual to start, ladies?’

‘If it ain’t broke, Desio . . .’ Kemi is practising GCSE Spanish with alarming efficiency. The roll of her ‘r’s’ this early in the evening encourages easy laughter from her supporting cast. Farah peruses the menu with the concentration of someone who doesn’t know its contents off by heart. She wonders if she should try something different today?

‘The usual please, Desio.’

I speed up the process so we can hear Farah’s news, an act of mercy for everyone. Before she updates us, a ritual:

‘Can you please tell us “The Tampon Story” just one more time?’

We plead with her to indulge us.

‘Stella, I can’t. I’ve got PTSD and I’m really trying to forget about it!’

Farah shudders at the memory of removing a tampon from her patient four days after insertion and on her first day in A&E. She laments the fact that she is repeating the story so soon before eating. Guacamole, sour cream and salsa are exchanged across the table as we surrender to laughter.

‘We’ve all done it, Farah.’

‘I haven’t!’

‘Guys, toxic shock syndrome is not a joke! The smell was just – I can’t.’

 

Platters bearing tastes of happiness and memories of friendship are placed around the table. Nachos and fajitas. Taco salad and chicken wings. Quesadillas and onion rings, coming right away!

‘Another round, ladies?’

Our chorus of ‘yes’ serves as a reminder to Desio to keep the cocktails coming.

 

Alicia Keys’ ‘Girl on Fire’ is the anthem to The Girls’ lives. They are so extraordinary and accomplished. Eimear is too busy doing voyage calculations and fixing charters to plan a wedding. Sean wants to move back to Ireland to be closer to his parents. What about hers? The art of compromise. Eimear could be persuaded. Corporate life is draining. She craves something more – simple, less capitalist. She wants to ride horses, grow her own food and live near the sea. Farah is a real-life cardiothoracic surgeon-cum-superhuman. Dr Cristina Yang, eat your heart out. She dizzies us with talk of transaortic valve replacements and angioplasties. A workaholic and a perfectionist, both. The very thing that gets her out of bed in the morning keeps her awake at night. Did she do everything she could possibly do for her patient? Could she have done more? Farah doesn’t rest, she reviews: every decision, every scan, every incision. She is tired and needs a break. Kemi? Kemi is firefighting, constantly. In fact, Kemi spends so much of her time firefighting, she often confuses Downing Street for a London Fire Brigade department, Catford branch. An expenses scandal? What, another one? Kemi is still struggling with Brexit shell shock more than two years on. She wonders if, and how, she will ever recover. She feels disillusioned. She would love to have a baby but timing is everything. She has worked so hard to get to where she is. To step aside and entrust another soul with the role she has developed over the past seven years is something she battles with. Plus, she needs to lose the 12lbs she’s gained from stress eating before she lets Jackson anywhere near her.

‘Stella, tell us your news!’

My turn. I don’t know. I have permanent imposter syndrome. I can’t seem to shake it. I feel that everyone around me knows what they are doing, in life and love, apart from me. I have this permanent fear that I’m going to be exposed as a fraud and it makes me feel so fragile, you know. Sometimes, when I’m in court, I catch myself and I’m trembling. I don’t think that’s normal. The girls listen to me with concern on their faces. Farah thinks it sounds like I’m experiencing anxiety. I work so hard and my job is both demanding and stressful, it’s completely understandable. A lot of people struggle with anxiety, I’m not alone. I haven’t spoken to my GP about it. The Girls think that it would be a good idea if I did because there are so many things you can do to help with anxiety. I am ‘smashing it’ – life, in every way, and they are so proud of me.

My love life? It’s non-existent. Do you know where the hottest guys are? HMP Brixton. I’m serious. I’ve seen them there. I don’t know, I think I’m just more comfortable relying on myself, you know? If I let myself down, it’s on me. I’ll hold myself accountable and do better next time. I don’t know if you can expect that from another person, can you? Maybe relationships aren’t for me. Swiping left and right certainly isn’t. Do you think I’m having a ‘tertiary’ life crisis? Is that a thing?

Desio is approaching bearing a tray of mescal shots and a shot of an alternative for Farah. She hopes it’s apple juice, otherwise the colour is more than disturbing. The mescal is from the gentleman on that table. It is unsolicited, but timely, and welcomed. We toast to life and to each other. I am nominated as special envoy to express collective thanks.

‘Isn’t a synchronised thumbs up enough?’

 

He holds out his hand to meet mine as I approach his table.

‘Hi, I’m Christian. Nice to meet you. I hope you’re enjoying the mescal? You guys look like you know how to have fun!’

‘Christian, you’re an enabler! Thank you so much. Nice to meet you too.’

 

My objection is performative and short-lived. I agree to give him my number before my mescal-inspired walk takes me back to The Girls.