After the shoot, all I want to do is lie in a hot bath, close my eyes and let the paint wash off by itself. Of course I’m being unrealistic and I’m not surprised when Matt tells me there isn’t a bath in the building. I’m more surprised when he confesses there isn’t a shower either. I’m not happy. I’m stuck in the middle of London looking like I’ve just stepped out of Avatar. How am I supposed to go on public transport looking like this?
‘Half of Camden Town looks like that,’ Matt scoffs. ‘Stop moaning and come with us to the pub. We need to make plans.’
I think of Farrell and feel frustrated. I want to be alone when I call him and preferably dressed like a civilian, not a walking mural.
Somehow Elliott and Matt persuade me to get into my clothes, fully-painted and join them in the pub for a de brief. I have foliage across my face, bananas twisted around my arms and neck, and my bare legs look more than a little reptilian. Every head in the pub turns to look at me when I walk in. Elliott and Matt are too busy arguing to notice my entrance has had an effect.
‘She should definitely do something at Buckingham Palace,’ Matt says, pushing his way through to the front of the bar. ‘Think of all the tourists for god’s sake. It will go global.’
‘I don’t agree with you. You can’t just use her Majesty’s house as some sort of gimmick.’
‘What are you talking about? The Queen is a bloody gimmick.’
Elliott reels back in horror. He looks at me, hoping to find an equally disgusted face, but instead he finds a marginally irritated one. These are my ideas they are bouncing around. Farrell and I wrote it all down on a serviette, which Bibiana discarded in a strop. I wonder what they’re doing now. I wonder if Farrell told Bibi what happened. I hope not. I’d hate to think of them talking about me like a secret.
‘Call yourself an Englishman!’ Elliott cries.
‘Not really. My Mum was born in Italy and my Dad’s Portuguese.’
Elliott scowls. ‘Now I remember why I hate working with you.’
‘Why? Because you’re a racist twat?’
‘Oh shut up!’ I snap.
They both turn to look at me.
‘I’m covered in paint and I’m not very comfortable so can you stop arguing and give me some explanations!’
‘Hang on,’ Matt says, as the bar man finally appears to take our order.
I hold my tongue until we’re standing at a bar table with our drinks. If I sit down on a chair paint is going to start smearing all over the place. The bar man has already given me a warning look.
‘Why are you both here?’ I say. ‘I mean, really. What’s going on? What do you want from me? I feel... I feel like you're be using me...’
Yes, that’s it. That’s what I feel. Confused, used and very much out of the loop.
Matt starts to protest, but Elliot shuts him up with an authoritative raised palm and fixes me with a pained stare.
‘Using you? How can you even think that? Obviously Matt is but...’
‘What the fuck?’ Matt cries. ‘I’m just helping out here! This is me being philanthropic!’
‘Philanthropic? You don’t even know what that means,’ Elliott smirks.
‘Yes I fucking well do, I did a journalism degree you know, I know a lot of fucking long words actually! You don’t have to go to Cambridge you arrogant...’
‘Oh shut up!’ I cry, clutching my head, and remembering too late that my hands are covered in paint. ‘Will you stop arguing please?! I thought this was supposed to be about my bloody bananas, isn’t it?’
‘Of course it is,’ Elliot says, resting one hand gently on my shoulder. ‘Of course it is. I believe in your project, that’s why I’m here. I care about your art. If you don’t want my help, I understand.’
‘Well, it’s a bit late to say I don’t want your help now. You’ve already paid for this,’ I say, waving a hand over my colourful limbs. ‘And you’ve driven me and my bananas across the city...’
‘I’m doing it for the love of art and my love of...’ Elliott pauses and looks at me pointedly. My heart starts racing. No! Don’t say 'you' for god’s sake!
Matt interrupts before he can finish his sentence. ‘Okay, maybe I’m not being totally philanthropic. I mean, I’m hoping to get paid for the article about you, but we’re both helping each other out, aren’t we?’
Yes. It’s all fine. It’s all legitimate. Normal. Elliott is an art fanatic and Matt is a journalist. All completely fine. I raise my beer to my lips and take a deep drink. It cools my parched throat and goes straight to my head. It’s gone three o’clock in the afternoon and I haven’t eaten a thing.
‘So no one is using anyone, are they?’ Matt continues.
Well, when he puts it like that... I just got cold feet, that’s all.
Matt looks at me with a tentative smile. ‘Okay, Amber?’
‘Yes. I suppose.’
‘Onwards and upwards?’ Elliott says, squeezing my shoulder and rubbing the paint deeper into my favourite white t-shirt.
I nod. ‘Just don’t do anything behind my back, okay?’
Matt does some scout’s honour thing with his hands. ‘Never.’
Elliott kisses me right on the lips and my reaction is to jump back. He looks surprised.
‘Paint!’
‘There’s no paint on your lips silly,’ he says, putting his arm around me.
Matt raises his eyebrows. I worry he’s taking notes of these affectionate gestures to fuel his article. I would’ve liked to keep things private until I’d sorted a few things out in my head. I mean I fancy Elliot, don't I? At least, I should fancy him because he's gorgeous, so why am I feeling so unsure now?
It’s all the paint fumes. That must be it.
I clap my hands over my pocket as my phone starts to vibrate.
‘You didn’t ring your friend back,’ Matt says.
His name comes up on my screen. It’s him. It’s Farrell.
‘What friend?’ Elliott asks, and his tone irritates me.
I turn away as I answer; my heart in my throat. ‘Hi.
‘Hello,’ Farrell replies softly. ‘Are you free to talk?
I swallow. ‘No.’
‘Where are you going?’ Elliott calls.
I hold my hand over the receiver and point outside. Elliott looks disgruntled and I feel a flash of anger. I’ve spent half the day standing still, being painted! I deserve a little fresh air and five minutes to myself! What’s his problem?
Passersby gawp at me when I walk into the sunshine but I don’t care. I feel daring in my new skin.
‘Amber?’
‘Sorry, I had to get out of the pub...’
‘I can call back if you’re with someone.’
He must have heard Elliott’s voice in the background and for some reason I feel compelled to deny that he’s there.
‘I was just with some friends...’
For a moment no one says anything. It’s so quiet I can hear his intake of breath.
‘Look,’ I say. I’m not great with silences and I want to get rid of this horrible feeling in my stomach.
‘Amber, don’t...’
‘What?’
‘Don’t try to make it better. I mean... you don’t need to make excuses. I’m okay...’
‘I wasn’t going to...’
‘You were. You were going to say that I slipped, or that I was hungry and mistook your mouth for a strawberry, I know how your head works.’
A laugh escapes me. He’s right of course.
‘Alright, no excuses,’ I say, smiling. ‘But everything’s okay between us, yeah?’
In the moment before he speaks, I feel a tap on my shoulder. It’s Elliott. I frown at him and he points at Matt, who’s lighting up a cigarette. Farrell says something but I miss it.
‘Sorry, Farrell, say that again...’
My skin is prickling with heat and I’m annoyed my privacy has been snatched from me.
‘Will you come to the bookshop?’ he says. ‘This evening...’
I’m confused. ‘Why? Is it late night shopping?’
‘No Amber, I’m reading something and...’
I jump in before he can finish. ‘Of course I’ll come!’
Why didn’t I let him finish? What was he going to say?
‘Sorry, I interrupted you... where you going to say anything else?’
He lets out a nervous little laugh. ‘No, I’ll say the rest tonight.’
‘Great! See you tonight then.’
All sorted. All is well. I slide my phone back in the pocket of my skirt and turn to face Matt and Elliott. I feel so much better for talking to Farrell. Now, I know things can be alright between us. I regret missing his last reading, but this time I’ll be there and prove that I’m a good friend. That’s what we are. Good friends. So, why do I feel so bloody excited all of sudden?
‘So we thought we’d make the most of your...look,’ Matt says, ‘and head over to the Southbank. I’m thinking London Eye, Westminster, Houses of Parliament... there’s so much in that area. Buckingham Palace is best to do at the changing of the guards.’
I check my phone. I’m going to have to leave lots of time to scrub this paint off before I head down to the book shop.
‘What’s the matter?’ Elliott asks.
‘Just working out the time. I can’t miss my friend’s reading again.’
‘The poet?’
I roll my eyes. ‘He’s called Farrell.’
‘Yes I’ve worked that out. He rings you up every time we meet.’
‘Not every time.’
‘Every time,’ Elliott says, firmly.
Matt lets out a low whistle. ‘Someone jealous?’
‘Yes, he is evidently,’ Elliott says.
‘No, we’re just great friends,’ I say, but I feel a little bit guilty now. I haven’t taken a moment to look at things from Elliott’s point of view. How would I like it if every time I was on a date, some girl friend rang him up?
‘Well, if you’re just friends, then you won’t mind me coming to the reading will you?’
I look at him, surprised. His eyebrows are raised in challenge. There’s no excuse in my head. But I don’t want him to come. Not this time.
‘Well...uh...’
I don’t know what to say.
‘I knew it,’ Elliott says. His jaw clenches as he pushes a hand through his hair.
Matt is smirking at me. Elliott’s face is clouding up; withdrawing into that hurt expression that makes me feel under pressure to make everything better.
‘No, yes, of course you can come,’ I hear myself say. ‘I just thought it might be too far.’
‘We’ll get a taxi,’ he says, beginning to smile.
‘Yes, of course.’
What could be better proof that our friendship is intact than bringing a date? And yet I feel so disappointed.
Matt grinds his cigarette butt under his heel. ‘Right, let’s get you to the Southbank before that paint rubs off.’
‘Yep,’ I say, trying to muster some enthusiasm. ‘Let’s do this.’
Elliott kisses me and this time I make a conscious effort not to pull away. I close my eyes and try to enjoy the feel of his anxious tongue parting my lips, but the truth is, all I can think about is how I'm going to dissuade him from coming to Farrell's reading.
***
Thank you for keeping with me so far! I really appreciate all your encouragement and votes! I'm on the home straight now with approx. 10 more chapters.
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