Pictures of Lily (21 page)

‘Sorry,’ I say as they stare at me questioningly. ‘David Snide, your eleven-thirty, forgot this.’ I place the portfolio on the table and let it go with a slight thump.

‘Ah, thanks, Lily,’ Jonathan says as we glance out of the glass divide to see a flustered Mr Snide enter the
Marbles
quarters. He looks around, panicked.

‘I’ll go get him,’ I say, grinning.

Jonathan smiles back, a twinkle in his eye.

The next day when Jonathan appears for work he walks straight up to the reception desk, eyeing me with a look of determination.

‘Good morning,’ he says brightly.

‘Good morning,’ I chirp back, giving him an inquisitive look and wondering what this is about.

‘Lily, our editorial assistant Bronte has appendicitis and she’s going to be off all week and quite possibly next week too.’

I can feel Nicola’s curious eyes on us. Mel, thankfully, is off making tea.

‘You seem very capable,’ Jonathan continues. ‘Much more capable than the last two temps we’ve had in to cover for people. Would you be up for working at
Marbles
until Bronte’s better?’

‘Aah,’ I start. ‘I’d have to check with my boss.’

My
boss
boss, i.e. the person who employed me, is the Head of Human Resources, Darren Temper. He tends to leave us to it with Nicola at the helm.

‘I hope you don’t mind,’ Jonathan continues. ‘I know Darren well and asked him last night. He has no problem with it if you don’t.’

The chance to work at a magazine – an actual magazine, with a whole team of people: photographers, picture editors
. . .

He’s standing there, waiting for an answer.

‘In that case, I’d love to!’ I beam.
Shit, is Mel going to kill me?

As soon as he’s gone, I turn to Nicola and hiss, ‘Do you think Mel will mind?’

‘Will I mind what?’ Mel interrupts, returning with three mugs of tea on a small tray.

‘Good idea.’ I gesture at the tray, then feeling like a meek little lamb, manage to look her in the face. ‘Jonathan asked me to cover for their sick editorial assistant.’

‘You lucky bitch!’ she cries.

‘Do you mind?’

‘Of course not. Get in there. Debbie’s coming back in a few months, you’ve got to make all the contacts you can.’

‘Is Debbie definitely returning?’ My heart sinks a little and Mel looks sympathetic as she nods.

‘It’s pretty much a cert. She can’t afford not to. So you go for it – don’t you think, Nicola?’

‘Absolutely. I totally agree,’ Nicola responds.

‘Okay.’ I smile at them shyly and start to pack up my things.

Jonathan settles me at my temporary desk by the magazine entrance. Thankfully, most of his staff have yet to arrive, so it’s not too mortifying standing there while he explains the bare basics. He tells me he’ll fill me in on other stuff as and when I need to know, but for now I’m to answer calls and emails and help out with anything anyone asks of me.

The rest of the staff who make up
Marbles
magazine begin to filter in. Some ignore me, others nod and say hi. Only one girl with a cheerful-looking face asks if I’m filling in for Bronte, shortly afterwards commenting, ‘Hey, aren’t you one of the girls from reception?’

‘Yes,’ I tell her, fully aware of how invisible we receptionists can appear to people, even though they see us every day.

‘I’m Xanthe,’ she says. ‘I work on the health desk.’

‘Oh, cool. Do you get loads of free stuff?’

‘Hell, yeah. It’s why I took the job.
Marbles
may be a men’s mag, but PRs still send me girlie beauty products to butter me up. Listen, let me know if you need any help with anything. I started off as work experience and covered for Bronte myself once or twice in the early days, so I pretty much know what the job entails.’

‘Thanks very much.’ I smile up at her. It’s nice to find a friendly face at last.

As the day wears on, I find my feet and start to relax. At one o’clock I knock on Jonathan’s door.

‘I’m popping out to grab some lunch,’ I say. ‘Do you want me to get you anything?’

‘No, thanks.’ He brushes me off. ‘I’ve got to nip out myself to get the missus some flowers. It’s our anniversary tomorrow,’ he reveals.

‘How many years?’ I dare to ask.

‘Eight.’

‘Congratulations. Are you sure you don’t need anything? I mean, I could even get the flowers if you want me to.’

‘She’d kill me if I didn’t get them myself.’ He grins. ‘Anyway, I know what she likes.’ He gets to his feet. ‘I’ll come out with you now.’

I feel a mild sense of panic at the idea of walking down the stairs with him and entering reception together. He grabs his suit jacket and shrugs it on while I wait at the door and follow him out.

‘I always take the stairs. Can you handle them in those heels?’ He nods at my feet.

‘Sure, the walk will do me good.’

‘How are you finding everything?’

‘Good, thanks. Have you spoken to Bronte?’

‘No, she’s recovering from the operation.’

‘Poor her. How did you get on with all those photographers yesterday?’ I ask, trying to keep up with his pace. I just about manage.

‘Really well. One or two stood out.’

‘I thought you’d already have a set bunch of people you use.’

‘We do, but it’s good to keep things fresh. Introduce some new talent.’

‘Are there many people working on the picture desk?’

‘Three. But as I said, Kip, our picture assistant, is on holiday until next week. Are you interested in photography?’

‘Er, well – yes, I am, kind of.’ His question takes me by surprise.

‘So reception is a stepping stone?’

I’ve never really thought about it, to be honest, but I don’t want to admit to that. ‘I guess so.’ And then I feel stupid. ‘Not that I think I have much hope.’

‘Why not? Everyone has to start somewhere. Darryl James, the Deputy Ed at
Flipside
, used to work in the post room.’

‘
Did
he?’

‘Yes. Everyone has to work their way up.’

‘What about you? Where did you start?’

‘My path was dull in comparison. I came straight out of college and started as a junior writer on the newsdesk. But most people do work experience.’

‘Like Xanthe.’

‘Exactly.’

We round the corner and I realise we’re on the ground floor.

‘I might go and say hi to Nicola and Mel,’ I tell him.

‘See you later,’ is what he replies with. And then we break away to go in opposite directions.

‘How’s it going?’ Mel squeaks, nodding after Jonathan’s departing back as he exits the building. Nicola, it seems, is already out to lunch.

‘Really well,’ I tell her honestly. ‘A bit nervewracking at first, but it’s kind of exciting.’

‘I knew you’d be fine,’ she says, smiling. ‘What’s Mr Laurence like?’

I grin. ‘
Jonathan
is being very welcoming.’

Mel suddenly looks conspiratorial. ‘I shagged my horny banker again last night.’

‘Did you?’ I breathe a sigh of relief. No wonder she’s being so cool about things. ‘And?’

‘He was horny.’ She smirks.

‘You haven’t even told me his name.’

‘Terence.’

‘Terence?’

‘Yeah. Terence Horn.’

‘You have got to be kidding me.’

‘I’m not.’

We both burst into hysterics. I back away from the desk, shaking my head with laughter as some visitors enter the building.

‘I’m off out for lunch,’ I manage to say through my giggles.

She surreptitiously wipes away her tears and smiles politely at the approaching people. ‘Good afternoon. How can I help you?’

God, she cracks me up.

That night I can’t wait to get home and tell Richard all about my day, but he seems distracted.

‘Are you okay?’ I ask, as soon as I see his face. He’s sitting on the sofa with a beer, but the telly is off.

‘Had a bit of a rubbish one today.’ He sighs and rests his head back on the sofa. I sit down next to him.

‘What happened?’

He looks at me and his features relax. ‘Some bits and pieces have gone missing from a building site and Nathan suspects one of our apprentices.’

‘That’s awful,’ I say. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘It’s hard to know unless we catch him in the act. But the trust has gone – even if he’s innocent. He’s a hard worker, it’s such a shame.’

‘Why does Nathan suspect him?’

‘It’s a feeling he’s got.’

‘That’s not very concrete.’

‘No. But he also thought his backpack looked a bit bulky yesterday when some tools went walkabout.’

‘I’m sorry. That sounds like a nightmare.’

‘It’s a bit of a shit. How are you?’ he asks.

‘I’m pretty good.’

‘Cool. Shall we get a pizza in?’

‘Sure.’ I pull out my mobile phone, knowing that this task will fall to me because it always does. ‘Ham and pineapple?’

‘That’s the one.’

I dial the number and place the order, then turn back to Richard, asking, ‘What do you want to watch?’ He chucks me the remote control. This is not the time or the place. My day can wait.

‘I can’t go,’ he says. ‘I’m having dinner with the missus.’

‘Happy anniversary,’ I chip in.

‘Thanks. RSVP on behalf of yourself and a friend, if you like. Just tell them I passed the invite on.’

‘Oh wow, that would be so cool!’

‘Don’t get too excited. These things are often as dull as ditchwater, but you can have a free glass of wine and check out the exhibition if you’re interested in photography.’

‘I am, I definitely am.’

I’ve already asked Nicola – Mel is out with her horny banker so that was easy – and have emailed to RSVP when I suddenly remember Lucy and Nathan’s plans for dinner tonight.

‘Shit!’ I mutter under my breath, and nip out onto the landing to call Richard.

‘Honey,’ I start, when he answers his mobile.

‘What’s up?’ He can hear from the tone of my voice that something is.

‘I can’t go tonight.’

‘What? Why not?’

‘I’ve been invited to a photography exhibition.’

‘And? Do you have to go?’

‘I’ve already said I would.’

‘Lily . . .’ He sounds disappointed.

‘Sorry, but it’s really important to me.’ Silence. ‘Nathan and Lucy won’t mind, I can see them at the weekend.’

‘Well, they might find it a bit rude,’ he snaps. ‘You didn’t come to Sam and Molly’s on Sunday either.’

‘I see them all the time!’ I exclaim. Now he’s being unfair. I
know
they’d all understand.

‘What is this exhibition, anyway? Who invited you?’

I haven’t told him about my temporary position yet. I wanted him to be excited for me and I knew I wouldn’t get that reaction with the mood he was in last night. I’m not going to get it now either, I realise with a heavy heart.

‘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.

There 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.