Spray Painted Bananas

Chapter 4

I'm expecting the new email in my inbox to be yet another funny YouTube video from Farrell. When I see it's from Elliot Frinton-Smith I feel a rush of excitement. Elliot is a client and all I should be expecting is an order of canapés and a query about the cost of delivery. But the way I look across the office to check Vicky hasn’t got her eye on me would suggest I’m hoping for a lot more than that.

Dear Amber

Mission accomplished. He knows my name.

Thanks so much for your kind email. I’m sorry I didn't get back to you sooner.

It's fine, my darling, you were worth waiting for.

Montague is concerned food might be too much of a distraction.

Is he the Artist? Or a ghost of some Shakespeare character who never gets hungry?

He’s also worried people will drop crumbs everywhere. There’s always so many scroungers at these events who only come for the free drinks and have no appreciation for the artwork!

Who would do such a thing?! Such Neanderthals!

I bite the corner of my lip, simultaneously blushing with shame and wanting to laugh out loud. But Elliot hasn't finished.

Even if people manage to pop the whole canapé cleanly into their mouth there’s still the issue of smell. I don’t suppose you can suggest some of your less-aromatic options?

I look over at my colleague.

‘Vicky, bit of a funny one... Elliot wants to know if we have canapés which don’t smell...’

She doesn’t even look up from her screen as the list rolls off her tongue.

‘The quail eggs, the spinach and mushroom pizzetta, the feta and olive tart, the dolmades vine leaves...’

On and on she goes. When she finally finishes I realise I should have been taking notes.

‘Wow, you know so much, Vicky. Did you always want to work in catering?’

I love to know how people got where they are, especially if it was their childhood dream.

'No, I hate cooking,' she says, flatly. 'I wanted to be an air hostess.'

I lean forward, feeling curious. 'Really? So what happened?'

'I needed some money, so I got an admin job. I did a few different short contracts and then I came here and Flamingo asked me to stay because I was good. So I did.'

She looks suddenly so dissatisfied that I feel it my duty to relight a flame of possibility in her life.

'You still could train to be an air hostess, though... there's still loads of time. I bet you'd be really good at it.'

Her brow furrows. 'I think it's too late for that.'

'It's never too late. Forty is the new twenty!'

'Well forty-six isn't. Now are you going to email that man or analyse my life?’

‘Sorry, I just meant if you still wanted to you could, that's all...' I'm really not making much progress with our friendship. I feel that until Jan returns and they can confer about how useless I am, Vicky will continue to feel threatened by my presence. I wonder if she replaced someone all those years ago as a Flamingo temp. I don't know why her revelation has made me feel so disappointed. It's not like I'm in danger of being asked to stay, and if I was I'd just say no. I'm not going to let paying the rent get in the way of discovering my greater purpose in life. If only I knew what it was, so I could get cracking on it.