‘It’s Pier Frank’s launch. He’s an up-and-coming photographer,’ I explain before he can ask. ‘I didn’t get a chance to tell you yesterday, but the Editor-in-Chief of Marbles magazine asked me to cover for their editorial assistant who’s off sick this week. He gave me the invite.’
‘Are you going with him?’ Richard asks suspiciously.
‘No, of course not. I’m going with Nicola.’
‘It’s all arranged, then.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Pause. ‘Well, okay, then. See you later.’
‘I’ll text you when I’m on my way home,’ I say, but he’s already hung up.
I feel guilty for all of ten minutes, but soon my guilt subsides and is replaced by annoyance, shortly followed by anger. Richard is being so unsupportive of my interests. He may be happy being a builder, but I’m not happy being a receptionist. I have goals! Dreams! Okay, so I haven’t had these goals or dreams for very long, but I do now, and he should accept that. Not just accept it, but encourage it. That’s what a good boyfriend – I mean fiancé – should do.
You would be happy for me, Ben. You would encourage me.
That’s unfair. You can’t compare Richard to a ghost. That’s what Ben is, practically. And maybe Ben’s not all he was cracked up to be. You were only sixteen, you know. You were probably looking at him through rose-tinted glasses. He’s probably a grumpy old git in reality.
You know I’m not.
Yes, I know you’re not. But shut up, would you? You’re not here and Richard is. Stop interfering!
I am sounding more and more like a crazy woman every day.
Never mind. The upshot is I’m going to this super-cool launch, Nathan and Lucy won’t mind, and Richard will get over it. There. It’s done.
‘Phwoar, sexy!’ Nicola squeaks into my ear, later that evening.
I knew she’d fancy the pants off Pier Frank. He’s in his mid-twenties, with scruffy dark hair, stubble that verges on a beard, and skinny jeans. He’s not that tall at probably only five foot nine, but Nicola is my height at five foot six, so she doesn’t care one iota.
‘Don’t tell me he has a girlfriend, because I don’t want to hear it,’ she jokes, dramatically flicking her long blonde hair away from her face.
‘Nah. He’s gay.’
‘Nooo!’ she practically squeals.
‘Shhh!’ I giggle. ‘I’m joking. I don’t know if he’s tied up or not.’
‘Phew.’ She breathes a sigh of relief and ogles him once more. ‘Shall we go and say hi?’
‘Not yet.’ I drag her back. ‘Let’s check out the exhibition first, hey?’
The gallery is situated in the Rocks area, so we walked here in about ten minutes. Nicola wanted to hail a taxi because she’s a lazy little minx, but I wouldn’t let her. She only stopped complaining about her sore feet when we arrived at the venue.
The ceilings are high and the lighting is low, but each of Pier Frank’s black and white photographs has been lit with a startling spotlight. His work is dark and disturbing – a dead dog at the side of the road; a man stalking a woman – and the atmosphere suits them well.
‘I don’t like his stuff very much,’ Nicola reveals after ten minutes of browsing.
‘No, me neither,’ I agree. ‘Shall we get pissed in the corner by the kitchen and nab the canapés as they come out?’
‘I like your thinking.’
‘So what are you going to say to him if you get a chance later?’ I ask through a mouthful of goat’s cheese and caramelised onion mini-tartlet.
‘I don’t know. Do you reckon I should tell him I think his work is pants?’
‘It’s not pants,’ I say. ‘It’s just a bit disturbing.’
‘Disturbing, then.’
‘Why not? That’s clearly the angle he’s going for.’
‘Of course, you’re right. So he’ll be delighted with that reaction?’
‘Probably.’
‘I might nip to the loo,’ she says. ‘Do you wanna come?’
‘No, I’ll save our place by the canapés.’
‘Back in a tick.’
Five minutes later I’m still standing there like a lemon and starting to wish I’d gone to the toilet after all. I could go now, but it’s a big gallery and there are so many people crammed into it that I’d probably miss Nicola on her return and we’d struggle to find each other. She’ll be back soon.
But she’s not. Another couple of minutes pass. I sip my wine self-consciously and continue to people-watch. I’m not at all comfortable here. There’s a middle-aged woman dressed like a prostitute standing next to me, braying like a horse and talking fifteen to the dozen to a man half her age. The gallery is filled with people similar to them. And I don’t like it. I couldn’t stand being a part of this sort of crowd.
What am I thinking, wanting to be a photographer?
On impulse I pull out my mobile and check my texts. There’s nothing from Richard and I suddenly feel sad. I miss him. I wish I was at Nathan and Lucy’s right now.
Where the hell is Nicola?
I look up, irritated, and scan the room once more. I take a few steps away from my safe place and scan the second gallery up the stairs, searching for long blonde hair. I catch a glimpse of it, but unsure if it’s Nicola or not, don’t know if I should go and see. I hesitate for a moment as a fat bloke in a suit stumbles into me and glares at me rather than apologises. I storm up the stairs, feeling furious. That had better not be Nicola up there. If it is . . .
It is! It bloody well is! And she’s talking to Pier Frank. What a cow! I halt on the spot for a split-second, then she sees me and looks so elated as she motions me over that my irritation evaporates a little by the time I reach her.
‘Sorry,’ she whispers urgently in my ear. ‘He grabbed me on my way out of the loo. I thought you’d come to find me!’
‘I did,’ I say through clenched teeth.
‘Can I introduce you to my friend, Lily?’ Nicola says smoothly and I plaster a smile on my face as Pier turns his attention to me.
‘Hi,’ he says wryly as he offers his hand. ‘Are you having a nice time?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
‘It seems I’ve fucked up again, then.’
Several people around him laugh, but I’m failing to see what the joke is. I shift on my feet uncomfortably, but he is no longer paying any attention.
‘I’m going home,’ I say suddenly.
‘What? Why?’ Nicola looks horrified.
‘I blew out my boyfriend and his friends for this. I should be there with them.’
‘But we’ve only just met him!’
‘He’s a prick.’
‘Shhh! He’ll hear you.’
‘I don’t particularly care.’
‘He wasn’t really being mean, he just wants people to find his work disturbing.’
I give her a look.
‘I know you’re already said that,’ she continues desperately. ‘Please don’t go yet.’
My heart sinks. ‘Okay.’
So I stand there, like the yellow citrus fruit again, while Nicola and Pier’s cronies hang onto his every word, until my drink runs dry and I excuse myself to get another. When I return unhappily after ten minutes of waiting for the staff to find fresh glasses, Nicola is beaming like a beacon.
‘He’s asked me to go for a few drinks.’
‘Really?’ I try to look excited for her. ‘Just the two of you?’
‘No, with this lot, too, but hey ho.’ She looks delighted. ‘Will you come?’
‘No, thanks. I’d better head home.’
‘Okay.’
Not that I was invited, I imagine. I take a swig of my drink and put it down on a ledge and follow them out. Pier gets accosted by the braying prostitute so I take my leave.
‘See you tomorrow,’ Nicola whispers.
‘Use a condom,’ I whisper back and she cracks up laughing. I was joking! I hope she steers well clear of the moron.
Ther
e are no speedy JetCats waiting when I arrive at the terminal, and the ferry seems to take forever, but I stand outside in the wind, staring at the city lights as we pull away from Circular Quay. It’s a surprisingly chilly evening – autumn is definitely on the verge of assaulting us – and even when it starts to rain, I don’t go inside. I wonder if it’s too late to pop by Nathan and Lucy’s? Will Richard have already left?
I pull out my mobile and curse under my breath when I see that the battery has gone flat. Nathan and Lucy live only a short walk from the beach in Manly so I’ll go via their house on the off-chance.
It’s raining heavily when I come out of the ferry terminal and I rummage around in my bag, hoping and praying I have my teeny-tiny super-light umbrella in there. Thank bollocks, I do! I set off at a brisk pace, not bothering to swap to flip-flops because there’s nothing worse than sloshing around wet-footed in rubber in the rain.
Nathan and Lucy’s lights are on when I walk up the footpath. They live in a little house much like ours, made out of wood and painted greeny-grey with a white picket fence out the front. I knock on the front door and listen as I hear Kings of Leon’s ‘Sex Is On Fire’ coming from inside.
Lucy opens the door. ‘Lily!’ she cries, giving me a hug. ‘I thought you couldn’t come.’
‘Hello,’ I say warmly, as she pulls away. ‘Am I too late? Is Richard still here?’
‘Richard is still here and no, of course you’re not too late. Come in.’
Richard rounds the corner and steps into the hall, a look of pleasure and surprise on his face.
‘Hey!’ he exclaims. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘I left the gallery early,’ I tell him.
‘Was it alright? Are you okay?’ Now he looks concerned.
‘I’ll get you a drink,’ Lucy says. ‘Molly and I are on the rosé.’
‘Perfect,’ I reply and she hurries off, leaving Richard and me alone in the hall.
‘Are you alright?’ he asks again.
‘I’m fine,’ I say flatly. ‘It was okay, but I didn’t feel very comfortable.’
‘Come inside and have a drink, we’ll soon cheer you up.’ He puts his arm around me and I’m filled up with warmth. This is where I belong. With my Richard. I smile at him gratefully as he leads me into the living room.
‘Hello!’ Molly and Sam shout.
‘Hey.’ Nathan gets to his feet and bounds over, engulfing me in a lovely hug. ‘I hear congratulations are in order.’
‘Oh my God!’ Lucy screeches, rushing through from the kitchen. ‘I forgot to say!’
‘No worries,’ I laugh as she drags Nathan away to give me a hug. ‘And hey, welcome back to you guys,’ I say, already feeling a million times better. ‘Did you have a good time?’
‘It was ace,’ Nathan assures me.
‘What was the exhibition like?’ Molly asks from the comfort of her snuggly sofa.
‘It was a bit shit,’ I tell her honestly and she laughs. ‘I missed you guys.’
‘Aww.’ Richard gives me a squeeze because he’s still by my side.
‘Here you are.’ Lucy hands over my wine.
‘Cheers!’
‘Cheers indeed.’ We all chink glasses. ‘Are you hungry?’ she adds. ‘We’ve already eaten, but there’s loads left over.’
‘No, it’s okay, I’m fine.’
‘It’s lasagne . . .’ she coaxes.
‘Go on, then.’ I detach myself from Richard so I can follow Lucy into the kitchen. I’ve been stuffing my face full of canapés, but no way can I turn down Lucy’s lasagne.
‘Here you go,’ she says a short while later, handing over a plate full of scrummy, warming, comfort food. I follow her back to the living room, kicking off my heels in the hall as I go. Lucy perches on the arm of Nathan’s chair, and I take a seat on the sofa next to Richard. I balance the plate on my lap and tuck in, feeling totally at ease doing so in front of all these people who have already eaten.
‘Richard said you’ve been asked to cover for someone on a magazine?’ Molly says, impressed.
‘That’s right,’ I mumble through a mouthful.
‘Which magazine is it?’ Sam jerks a thumb at Richard and tuts. ‘Your man here couldn’t remember.’
‘Marbles.’ I load up my fork. ‘It’s a glossy monthly men’s magazine.’
‘I know the one,’ Sam says. ‘That’s so cool!’
Once again I’m filled with warmth.
‘How did you end up doing that?’ Lucy wants to know, so I quickly fill them in on the story.
‘Well done,’ Molly says in awe. ‘You must have really made an impression on the Editor.’
‘He’s married,’ I blurt out, and they all laugh.
‘I bet that thought didn’t cross any of our minds,’ Nathan says, as Sam shakes his head in amusement. I smile, a little embarrassed.
‘Where’s Mikey tonight?’
‘He’s asleep in the spare room,’ Molly tells me.
‘You’re so lucky he can do that,’ Lucy says.
‘He’s a good little guy,’ Sam says affectionately.
‘So when are you two . . .’ I start, as Nathan and Lucy look across at me and grin. ‘What?’ I ask at their reaction.
‘When are we having kids?’ Lucy checks.
‘Yeah.’
‘That seems to be the million-dollar question.’ She beams. ‘We’re just happy being the two of us for now. No rush.’
Nathan pats his knee and she slides down from the armrest and into his lap. He wraps his arms around her and kisses her cheek as she leans back into him. It’s hard not to smile at their obvious adoration of each other.
‘So tell us about your engagement,’ Lucy cries. ‘Richard hasn’t filled me in on any of the details.’ She glances at my boyfriend mock accusingly, then grins at me. ‘How did he propose?’
‘Er, it was at your wedding, actually,’ I reply. ‘On the ferry.’
‘No way!’ Lucy says. ‘And you kept it quiet?’
‘She didn’t want to take anything away from your big day,’ Richard tells them.
‘Are you kidding me? It would have added to the excitement.’
I can’t help but laugh at Lucy’s enthusiasm.
‘Have you set a date yet?’ Molly wants to know.
‘No. Maybe the year after next.’
‘Another long engagement,’ Sam tuts, rolling his eyes at Nathan.
I just shrug and smile innocently.
I catch an earlier ferry the next morning so I can get in to work in time to quiz Nicola about Pier Frank. She tries to keep a straight face as I walk up to the reception desk.
‘How was it?’ I ask.
‘How was he, you mean.’ She smirks.
‘You didn’t!’ I gasp.
‘I did.’
‘You didn’t!’ I cry again.
‘I couldn’t help myself,’ she sniggers.
‘You shagged him?’ I’m unable to contain my reaction.
‘Shhh!’ she whispers. I glance behind to check no one has entered the building. We’re alone.
‘What was he like?’ I’m still taken aback, but curiosity gets the better of me.
Her lips turn down and she cocks her head to one side. ‘Pretty good.’
That doesn’t sound too convincing.
‘No, he was alright,’ she says again when she notices my reaction.
‘Pretty good? Alright?’
‘He’d had a few drinks. And he’s not that big anyway.’
I can’t help but guffaw at her honesty. She starts to file her nails, nonchalantly.
‘Are you going to see him again?’ I ask.
She shrugs. ‘Maybe. He knows where to find me.’ She quickly puts down her nail file as a petite brunette in her twenties walks through the door, carrying three cups from Starbucks. It’s Cara, the girl who’s covering for me while I’m upstairs.
‘I’ll catch you later,’ I mouth and she grins and raises her eyebrows.
‘Good morning,
’ Cara says brightly to Nicola as I push the button for the lift. ‘I brought you a coffee.’
‘Awesome,’ Nicola says gratefully as the lift arrives and I step inside.
Coffees? Takeaway coffees? And not cheap ones at that. What a bloody cheek, attempting to muscle her way into the affections of my friends! Don’t get too comfortable, missy, I think grimly. I’ll be back in a week.
‘How was it?’ Jonathan asks me on his way past my desk a few minutes later.
‘Good, thanks,’ I lie politely.
‘I told you,’ he says in a sing-song voice. ‘Dull as ditchwater, right?’
I laugh. ‘Am I that transparent?’
‘Totally. Did you speak to Pier at all?’
‘Not much,’ I reply honestly. ‘I did meet him though.’
‘Good, because he’s coming in later.’
‘Oh, right.’
‘We’re doing a profile on him,’ Jonathan informs me. ‘In fact, could you book a meeting room for Niles to do the interview?’
Niles is one of the junior writers.
‘Sure. What time?’
‘Check with Niles this morning, but I think it’s at two o’clock.’
‘Will do.’
‘Thanks.’
As soon as he’s gone, I email Nicola: Pier is coming in! I think at 2pm but I’ll double check.
She immediately replies with: ARGH!!! Where the hell is my lippy?
I grin and get on with my work.
Pier is indeed scheduled to arrive at 2 p.m., so I take an early lunch-break to ensure I’m back on time. Nicola is looking glossed-up and glamorous when I enter the building with my soup.
‘Good luck,’ I say on my way past. She tries to keep a straight face.
Reception calls at five past two.
‘The bastard blanked me,’ Nicola says heatedly down the phone.
‘No!’ I cry. ‘Where is he?’
‘He’s on his way up.’
‘What happened?’
‘He went straight up to Mel and didn’t even look at me.’
‘What an arsehole!’ I squawk as loudly as I can get away with. I see through the glass panel on the door that Pier Frank has just stepped out onto the landing. ‘He’s here, better go.’
‘Give him a kick for me,’ she says menacingly.
‘Or you could give him one on the way out,’ I say, as he pushes through the door.
‘Not bloody likely,’ she mutters at my unintentional double entendre. I end the call.