Pearced (11 page)

Smiling he takes my bag opens the back door and I get in like it’s quite normal without a slight feeling of surprise, now that I know this Daniel person, I’ll need to learn to accept these things as just that’s how he operates.  I say "thank you very much Stan."   He smiles and gets into the driver’s seat, sends the glass partition sliding up with a remote and pressing a button on his door to open dialogue via intercom, and tells me "there’s a dock for your iPhone in the central armrest Miss Charles, you can play your music in the back, this glass is soundproof, you won’t disturb me."   Really?  Off he drives, and with my seatbelt on I snap my phone onto the pins of the docker, put it on repeat shuffle and head back on the rest I close my eyes and wonder if at this volume, can Stan really not hear anything, I sneak a quick look, he looks happy enough, or maybe he's just a Motorhead fan too?

EC: “What is he thinking Catharine, talk to him” have I missed something?

TC: “Assuming you’re meaning
Henry
?” There are only two of us, thankfully.

EC: “
Arrested!
The ladies at tai-chi will be all over it, it’s embarrassing” awkward.

TC: “He’s a rock star, it’s his job to be controversial” hope he didn’t have to spend the night, how long before the labour story comes out I wonder.

EC: “Catharine! I did not through forty hours of labour for my child to end up getting in trouble with the law.” There it is!

TC: “I’ll talk to him” again? God.

EC: “See that you do, kids!!” She’ll have a great time at tai-chi, she'll be lunching on this story for a month.

Bloody hell.

Driving through London is completely different experience to travelling underground.  I am staring out at our beautiful city, silver and grey and ancient in the sunshine. The trees are turning, but the barks of the silver birch shine bright white against the orange of the foliage, and there’s a matching tint of yellow, pink and orange to the low angle of the golden sun.  It gleams off the old marble surfaces of the buildings and reflects off the glass, bringing the city to life. I check my reflection in the surface of my phone, pull a long golden strand of hay from my hair, bloody hell, what else have I missed? Too late now.

We arrive at the great grey box that is RANDom, and Stan lets me in with a swipe key, only now do I notice an almost concealed card slot beneath the crusty old intercom unit. I hear a beep at the door unlocks with a series of little clicks around the frame, Stan passes me the logo'd black plastic card "this is yours now Miss Charles, good luck on your first day."

"Thank you Stan, call me Tharie please." I assert.

Embarrassed, Stan heads to the car, turns and says "thank you Miss Charles,” is he deciding? “Have a good day."  And he gets in smiling.

Inside the warehouse space, I feel differently about the space today.  There's voices in the 'hall' as I will come to call it, and three people sitting around Daniels desk, none of them Daniel

Enter at collected canter, halt at X, immobility, salute. That's better.

I grab all my courage, reapply a mist of Gucci Guilty, and keeping my Prada's on I move,  still tasting the delicious wine from the night before, that can't be good.  I walk over and before I can introduce myself I am thrust a large steaming cup of the darkest tea, a wonderful sight I can tell you, by a small happy man who blind-sided me, it's usually a dangerous thing to do especially if I have a hoof-pick in my hand, but
not
this morning.  I glance lovingly at the warm cup in my fingers, with wild mustangs galloping painted on the outside, a nice touch I think, I’m hard to impress but this does the trick. "This is
your
cup Tharie, I hope I got your tea right builders professional brew?  I'm Newton, Daniels assistant, and yours now too I suppose." a little Italian looking man, young, very young, late teens I’d judge. Makes a bloody good cuppa though.

"Thank you very much Newton." I give him my friendliest smile, but of course it could look like any of the many versions of my smile, I may have just accidentally given him my defensive warning smile...as I worry Newton sends me a beaming one back, nope, got it right this time.

"Let me know if there’s anything you need, I’ll be getting your IT set up today, so after you've settled I’ll come and ask what you'd like."  A very happy competent young chap I think, yes, working here is going to be like a breath of fresh air. I take a large thankful swig of hot brown brew, that isn't in a waxed compostable paper cup, that tastes vaguely of teabag, and that I haven't had to fetch myself, feeling instantly sated.

A young woman moves from Daniels desk toward me, I’m happy to note none of these strangers sit in Daniels chair, I’m not sure why that pleases me, minds are funny.  There I go thinking things again, headphones, usually I’d have my headphones on by now and stop all the over thinking,  I’d just be immersed in denim and heavy metal,  the music silences my voices, allows me to concentrate.

Proceed in collected trot, track right.

She’s a confident stride, clearly intending to make an impression on me, I wonder why?  Petite and curvy, I recognise her from the bar talking to Pete.  
Stephanie
was it? She has a small, round face with thick lips and slim nose, stunning.  The woman approaches, dyed red dark hair, long dead straight, reaches out to shake my hand and in doing so shakes me out of my thoughts.  "Hi, I’m Steffi, I’m Daniels design&development manager for the RANDom menswear range, you won't see me much I’m just here for the launch, and to say hi to you, we only heard you were coming Friday." Her look burns into mine like she's ferreting about in my head to find out what’s in there Daniel could possibly want.   Whilst you’re in there, I almost ask, perhaps you can find the missing part on that Blake poem I’ve been desperately trying to remember since getting in Stan’s car this morning?

She doesn’t like me one bit, I can sense it, or possibly she doesn't read Blake?   She turns to grab paperwork from the desk, clenching her fists as she does, she's readjusting her mask to conceal her dislike for me the white knuckles a tell, and returns with a smile, even
my
fake smile is more convincing than that!

Note to self, practice the smile.

She has a vaguely Spanish look to her, hazelnut brown eyes, a curvy but slim figure, wearing very expensive clothes with perfectly shaped recently manicured nails, painted in the new Nude Chanel shade. I have that one, I’m now thinking I’ll give it to Mum, get the Tom Ford on instead, that'll show
her
. I decide to bring the conversation back to me.

"But I only met Daniel Thursday, how could you...." know?

"He told us you wouldn’t say no,” her false laugh is like a scoff, resentment?  “Well, I guess he judged you correctly, here you are!" She isn't being antagonistic, just matter of fact, it is a manifestation of this man always getting what he wants. Had he had
her
I wondered?

"I guess he knows me better that I thought."  I answer wistfully, not totally happy with being someone’s foregone conclusion, but I’d deal with that later.

"He has a knack for it, spooky sometimes," laughing with her head tilted back a little dramatic, it wasn’t that funny, clearly enjoying knowing Daniel more than I, well, how long will that last I wonder?

"How long have you been working with Daniel, Steffi?" I put my bag on the floor, glad to break our eye lock for a moment, and it suddenly feels like the heaviest thing to be carrying.

"Oh, Danny and I go
way back
,” she brushes a strand of perfectly blow-dried and straightened hair from flawlessly made-up face as if to exaggerate all the ways she and I are different.  Bloody hell, this could take a while.

“We,
Daniel and I
,” the infliction in her clipped remarks telling, she's letting the words sink in, watching me closely, “we were together a long time ago.” She pauses for effect.  “Over now of course." She looks me up and down and smirks to herself...well not quiet to herself, it's deliberate I’m sure.  How much did he tell her?  "We've been working on RANDom for a few years, when he decided he wanted a womenswear label, he left the men’s side to me and began his research.  Danny loves to research, he says its brain input to get the output." Suddenly she seems to be happy remembering, and it's gone as soon as it arrives, poof! I take a deep audible breath that makes Steffi stare, because in my thoughts I say a similar thing myself,
who is this guy
?

"Danny knew he wanted you for Milk&Honey from the beginning, but he said he had work to do before he could approach you with a proposition you couldn’t refuse."  Satisfied there’s nothing about me she isn’t better at, she relaxes a little. Suddenly I’m regretting not tidying myself up, my nails are short and blunt with chipped black nail polish…Vogue tells us chipped is OK this season, so that's a relief.  Is this Daniels type?  I start reeling in my thoughts, it's going to get messy up there soon, cold, deliberate, immaculately turned out, over-active sense of superiority, and sheer beauty.  I look down at myself briefly, admittedly I’m not looking my best this morning, but a plain looking, unironed, second hand parka wearing woman, skinny with messy hair and I likely have an air of the outdoors about me too, bloody hell, am I going to hate it here?

MXK medium trot.

“He didn’t ask anyone else.” She looks pained as she tells me, he didn’t offer it to her, maybe that’s why she hates me?

KAF collected trot.

I feel flattered. "I am looking forward to working with you all," I say without a trace of anxiety I am proud of myself, I'm good at
denim,
but strangers is another thing I don’t do well. 

FB shoulder-in left.

I took my Mum's advice not to talk to strangers very seriously, and trust issues prevailed into adulthood.  But my friendly smile and my fake confidence in dealing with people usually gets me through with your common-all-garden varieties.   To those more perceptive, confusion turns to mild understanding, shy is a word I rarely use, but I guess that’s what I am, a warm, friendly, noisy, passionate, energetic, neurotic,
shy person
. Horses don't care about that, thank goodness. No one understands it unless the really want to see it, that’s what the headphones are for, distance myself from the world.  The things themselves suggest to people to back off I’m not listening, but it also has the effect of shutting off my voices, talking in my head running things, information, words, over and over and over , thinking and talking, loud thumpy music is louder.  I can concentrate.  I can work.

B, volte left. That does the trick,
voltes are tricky after all...

Note to self, remember to ask Liza, again, what
volte
is.  It's her version of the off-side rule, nobody really understands it, unless they breathe that world,
dressage
that is, are you keeping up?  Good.

I'm standing there in front of Steffi, and longing for a fresh cup of tea, my Bose headphones and some very loud Korn or maybe some Placebo. The third man sitting at the desk rises, with his phone still to his ear, gesticulating to me with an air borne rotation of his closed hand, he’s sorry for the distraction, his conversation one sided,
not
his side.  Only one person can drive you that crazy, Mothers! He's just listening, eyes roll to indicate to me he's being lectured..."OK Mum, I hear you,” bingo.  “I’ll remember to water the plants next time I’m there.” There is then a long pause, his Mum is good, like mine, he rolls his eyes at me, “it was just a
girl.
.."  Mums, they take their time, and
they get the job done
. He walks slowly over to me a very handsome man, built bigger than Daniel but there are similarities in the eyes, the shape of his face and underlying bone structure,  and the hair colour is the same..."OK, see you later Mother, bye....bye." Two enormous manly strides and he’s at my side hand outstretched warm smile on his handsome and craggy outdoorsy face. A well-mannered, immaculate chap, my Mum would like him.

“Only Mum's can drive you that crazy,” I say to him smiling and shake his hand, nodding in understanding. 

A big friendly smile, "I’m James, Danny’s brother.” He smiles a friendly non predatory smile at me.  The centre of Pete's current world, I am instantly at ease.  “We'll be working together briefly, I am on the menswear side with Steffi part time.”  He gesticulates to Steffi an odd look crosses his face…could be disapproval, I can’t be sure.

“Hello.” And I withdraw my hand back to my parka pocket, “I'm Tharie Charles, but, you probably know that already?” Understatement I expect, Pete loves to chat about people she knows more than anything, and she knows a
lot
of people.

“Once you're oriented, I’ll leave you to get on with it, it'll be your baby Tharie."  His handshake lasts a little too long, warm friendly large hands, callused like mine.  He looks at me, my eyes, smiles an infectious smile, we both laugh, we're thinking about Pete aren't we?  "Another tea?" He asks.  So this is the object of her desire, James Pearce, small world. I
do
want tea, my head is beginning to hurt from withdrawal.

"God yes,
gasping
."  I try not to sound desperate but fail, but I need a constant supply of tea to keep me anchored, calm.  If I don’t get enough the headache comes, hard and thumping, it's withdrawal, this thought stops me thinking.