What Goes Around [on hold]

Chapter 1 ~ An "optimist"

With her perfectly manicured nails drumming the half empty wine glass that was in her hand, Darcy was sprawled – half-sitting; half-lying – on Rebecca’s sofa. Becca’s apartment was always the first place Darcy would come to in times of distress, and today was no exception: she and her short-term boyfriend, Theo, had broken up.

Normally in this situation, Darcy would be – yes, round at Becca’s – but in shreds of tears. Today she was not; but instead, she lay with her lips pursed slowly sipping away at her wine, and making absolutely no fuss, commotion, or even noise, other than the occasional deep sigh. 

And so, it seemed that Becca, the usual “comforter”, had no need to console or sympathise her. Instead, she wallowed in her own self-pity, but not because of a break-up... no! not for Rebecca Sallose.

Rebecca Sallose didn’t have a boyfriend, never did have a boyfriend, and frequently told herself that she never would. She would die alone, a spinster, perhaps with lots of cats, like an old, mad cat-lady. Who lived in a bungalow; and never wore purple like the poem; and never brushed her hair; and wore old, unwashed rags that stunk of cat litter; and watched cat documentaries; and maybe practised witchcraft in her free time.

That, in Becca’s mind, was her own future. She wasn’t exactly what you might call an “optimist”.

But, for Darcy, Becca could see her happily married with some great hunk of a man, perhaps a footballer or worldwide champion boxer. With a gorgeous, designer wedding dress on.

- Darcy, not the boxer.

And Darcy would forget Becca, and her cats, and her bungalow, and her knotted hair and smelly clothes. Because, Darcy would be hanging out with the “cool” and “sophisticated” lot with their Gucci handbags and whitened teeth; with their salon-dyed hair and frilly knickers; because, as soon as there was an untroubled, steady relationship in Darcy’s life, she didn’t seem to want anything to do with Becca.

That was the thing that Becca despised about Darcy the most – that, although Darcy pretended to value her as a mate; a chum; a buddy; or whatever; her only true motive for ever seeing Becca was to make her feel utterly miserable about her lack of a life with men.

When there was a new man on the scene, Darcy would come rushing up to Becca, gushing with excitement and anticipation. When there was a break-up Darcy would come stumbling to her, as if terribly injured, and to plead for sympathy, (which strangely enough had not happened today but Becca pushed this point aside in order to continue with her internal mini-rant,) but Darcy did not know how very small her supposed injuries were in comparison to the loneliness that dominated Becca’s life.

Becca often asked herself why she was still friends with Darcy – but she answered the question soon enough: it was because Darcy was really her only friend. Apart from Darcy, whom she loved; whom she loathed; whom she envied, there was no-one else. Just Becca, her flat, her job as a waitress, and the ever-dawning prospect of having to make a trip to the pet sanctuary to look for some… well, to look for some kittens.

She felt restless; she needed something big to happen, but all she was doing was sitting around and waiting for that big thing to come to her, rather than going out and grabbing it herself - maybe that was the problem. Maybe that was both of their problems.

There was a reason for Darcy’s silence that day, as there always was a reason for any of her actions in life. It had been nibbling away at her mind, ever since Theo had sprouted up the courage to say the final: “Sorry love, this ain’t gonna work any more”, that Darcy was looking in the wrong place for men.

She was in her mid twenties, and the longest relationship she had ever been in hadn’t even managed to last a whole eighteen months. All around her (save for Becca, bless her soul), her friends were either getting married or having kids, or both, and Darcy sorely wanted that. She understood that she was lucky; successful; with a highly-paid job as a designer at Harrods that most women would only dream of; she was influential not only in the workplace but also around her countless numbers of friends, and most of the time there seemed to be a queue of guys waiting to have a shot at winning her heart.

But it just never seemed to satisfy. She was an intelligent woman and always had been, and it wasn’t difficult to see the link between all of her past boyfriends: they all were known by her from her job; all were at least five years her junior and all did have quite a reputation for being womanizers. This final realisation was the reason for the numerous heavy sighs. 

Then, she thought of something that she hadn’t done before, and sat up. 

She knew that Becca had the tendency to become a little touchy at times, so carefully measured her next words.

“Becca,”

“Yeah,” replied she, sitting up in her chair to look at Darcy, with her eyebrows raised.

“Becca, what’s actually happening in your love life?” Okay maybe wrong question. Darcy thought as she saw Becca's offended expression.

“My love life?” she repeated with a short laugh, and when she saw that Darcy was serious about the question, fell back into her chair and said; “You know very well that I don’t have one of those.”

“Well,” replied Darcy, struggling to think of what to say next. “There must be someone who catches your eye – or has caught your eye.”

Becca’s eyebrows were so high up on her forehead that Darcy thought they might disappear altogether.

“You know, someone who you just think; ‘Ooh, I wouldn’t mind a bite of him.’ or 'Wouldn't push him out of bed'-type-thing.”

“Darcy!” exclaimed Becca.

“Oh, come on! You must know what I mean; you’re only human! You can’t tell me you’ve never thought of a man in that way – wait a second, what about that Mr Taylor bloke?” probed Darcy, vaguely remembering a certain “rather lovely” Mr Taylor, in a distant, clouded memory of one of their conversations.

“You’re joking, Darcy. You know that I can never be with him,” she said, rolling her eyes, and speaking to Darcy as if explaining something uncomplicated to an ignorant toddler.

Darcy was quite taken aback by this tone, and retaliated; sitting herself straight up on the couch; “No, I am not joking, as you so put it! What can there be wrong with this Mr Taylor, huh? He’s not gay, is he?”

“No Darcy, he isn’t gay. What he is is my boss, though!”

Darcy looked at her as if to say, “So?”

With a frustrated groan, Becca collapsed back into the armchair again in exasperation, and then said, after a moment of silence.

“Waitresses don’t mix with their employers, ok? Not with the owners of the restaurant they work in.” she said simply.

“He owns La Mer de Saphir?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Right,” said Darcy, although she still didn’t see how this was an issue, but refused to make Becca any more irritated than she already was, so didn’t go on about it.

“I have a proposal to make,” Darcy said after a short moment of silence.

“Go on,”

“Well, why don’t we set each other up on blind dates?”

“Blind dates?”

“Yes, Becca. Blind dates – you know, where a person finds someone who they think is suitable for the other, and sets-”

“I know what it is, Darcy.”

“Well? What do you say?”

Becca thought about it for a minute, then said with a sigh; “Even though it’s impossible that you will find anyone suitable for me – not because it would be your fault, just because it is my destiny and always has been, to end up alone; I suppose it might be quite… fun.” 

Darcy took a while to absorb Becca's use of the word. Fun. She'd said the word fun! “Really? Oh, wow! This is going to be amazing, Becca, do you know that? I promise with all my heart I will find you someone who is perfect – someone who, as soon as you set eyes on them, he’ll be so edible you’ll be craving for a bite of him! Thank you! This is going to be so much fun!” she said, positively bouncing up and down with excitement, and clapping her hands.

Although Becca thought this kind of excitement was silly, coming from a twenty-something-year-old, she couldn’t help herself but smile at her, and hug her back when Darcy skipped over to her to give her a firm and loyal embrace.