Meet Clara Andrews: A totally vacuous girl with a hangover... (7 page)

After locking up the studio on Tuesday afternoon, I make a quick trip to the little girl’s room, before heading to the car to wait for Lianna. As a result of breaking two nails, we had arranged at lunch for a late night manicure and a bite to eat in town. Silently cursing her lateness, I turn on the heaters and rub my hands together for warmth. I secretly love winter, dark nights, mulled wine and chunky jumpers. Bring it on.

‘Hi! Sorry I’m late!’ Lianna swings open the car door and throws her handbag onto the back seat before climbing in.

‘Do you have to treat your bag so badly?’ I wince looking at the scuffed red leather that was once so pretty.

‘I am starving! Where are we eating?’ She pulls out her highlighter and begins to touch up her already perfect complexion.

‘When are you not starving? And we are manicuring first and then eating.’

She pulls a sad face and fiddles with the radio.

‘How have things been with Mr. Morgan? When Marc told me about the Manchester exhibition I thought he was joking!’

‘It’s no big deal!’ I say, trying to play it down before she blows it way out of proportion. ‘It is purely educational.’

‘Whatever, let’s see if you’re still saying that on Monday.’

I turn the radio up in a bid to drown out any background Lianna noise but she immediately turns it back down.

‘When are you seeing George again?’ She demands, turning in her seat to face me.

‘Tomorrow. We are going for coffee after work.’ I can’t help but smile as Li screeches with excitement.

‘I want to meet him!’

‘Absolutely not! We have only had one date!’

We pull up outside the nail salon and Lianna jumps out before I even have chance to apply the hand break.

‘Are we having pedicures too?’

‘Yeah, OK.’ I slam the car door shut and press the key fob.

‘I thought it was just educational?

Two sets of hot pink toes and a couple of French manicures later, we are sat in Pizza Express looking over the menu. Lianna has taken advantage of having a designated driver and is already knocking back a frosty glass of prosecco before we have even placed our order.

‘Should we get some garlic bread?’  I ask, sipping on my Diet Coke miserably whilst eyeing up the prosecco.

‘Have you seriously just asked me that question?’ She rolls her eyes and beckons over the waiter.

Once we have placed our orders and Lianna has her prosecco replenished, we return to the subject of men.

‘So, what has been keeping you occupied in the office without me there anyway?

‘What do you mean?’ Lianna’s cheeks immediately flush a violent shade of red.

‘I think you know full well what I mean!’ I fire back, not willing to back down.

She shakes her head and looks away before slamming her drink down on the table.

‘OK, don’t make a big deal out of it, but I have been speaking to Dan again. Nothing has happened, it’s just talking.’

I stare at her in disbelief before raising my eyebrows, not quite knowing what to say. Lianna and Dan were an item for well over a year and to say she was smitten would be an understatement. They were a perfect example of loves young dream. Weekends away in Paris, surprise picnics in the park, they even went as far as exchanging house keys before Dan got cold feet. It is not as though Dan isn’t a nice guy, he really is. It’s just that he has a past history of doing this. From Sarah on reception to Jessica over in HR, he has quite the reputation for being a jack the lad.

‘OK,’ I respond slowly, not quite knowing what the right thing to say is.

‘I know what you are thinking, but he has changed! I swear he has!’ She reaches out and touches my arm. ‘I know what I am doing, don’t worry.’

I offer her a tight smile and bite my lip. I know Lianna can handle herself, but I also know that Dan hurt her more than anyone else ever has.

‘Just be careful. Don’t fall too hard, too fast.’

She squeezes my arm and smiles gratefully, just as the garlic bread is placed down on the table.

Thanking the waiter, I rip off a huge chunk and devour it in record time. Totally worth the saturated fat. Looking at my best friend, I can’t help but smile. She does look happier than I have seen her in a long time. Her cheeks are rosy and her eyes are sparkling. I knew there was a man involved somewhere down the line. It’s just that I would have chosen anyone for her but Dan.

A little part of me feels bad for judging Lianna, I mean, who am I judge someone else’s love life when I am in a bit of a pickle myself. When I was younger, I used to think that dating would be easy. The fact of the matter is, the older you get, the more you realise it is just a minefield. A minefield that could explode at any minute and only the lucky ones make it to the end in one piece. I wonder what our chances are of making it to the end without a broken bone, or even worse, a broken heart.

I spend an extra half an hour on Wednesday morning choosing my outfit and as a result, my bedroom looks like department store vomit. Why can’t I choose an outfit the night before and stick to it? Turning around in the mirror, I check out my selection. After a lot of dressing and undressing, I settled on a pair of skinny, tailored trousers with a fitted blazer over a cream, loose fitting blouse. I kick my way through the piles of viscose and leather covering the floor and head for the kitchen.

Hurriedly buttering a slice of toast and swallowing a multi vitamin, I chuck the essentials into my handbag and check my phone. George and I have been texting back forth for days now and I feel like I am really starting to get to know him. Despite only meeting him once, he has really opened up to me. Over a series of text messages, I have found out that he is one of five siblings, him being the only boy. His family are from Essex, he has a degree in History that he has never used and is currently doing bar work whilst contemplating his next career move. Now these may sound like boring facts to some, but every time my phone pings, my stomach drops to my feet. Before slamming the door shut, I give my lips one last slick of ruby red and make for the car.

As I crawl around the office car park trying to find somewhere to park, I see Oliver pulling his Audi into an impossibly small space and wave my arms around manically trying to get his attention. Oblivious to the crazy octopus lady, he climbs out of the car and throws his bag over his shoulder. I swing my car into an adjacent space and peek in my rear view mirror. Wait a minute, is he with someone? I rip my keys out of the ignition and I’m about to run over when I stop dead in my tracks. He is with someone. A pretty, petite, blonde someone. Rebecca. I feel my blood run cold as I watch them laughing and joking as they head into the building. What is he doing with Rebecca? Why are they coming into work together? God, I feel sick.

I must be frozen on the spot for a good few minutes before I pull myself together and make my way over to the office. I deliberately hover outside the lift until I can be sure they are well out of earshot and jab the button repeatedly, willing the doors to open so I can jump in and disappear.

Once safely inside, I stare at my reflection in the lift mirror and pinch my cheeks in a desperate bid to bring some colour back to my face. The lift doors bounce open and I hesitantly step out and drag my feet towards the studio. Plastering a smile onto my face, I am just about to push open the door when I hear Rebecca’s muffled voice coming from inside. What! Is she in there with him?

In a desperate bid to hear what is going on, I press my ear up to the door and listen carefully. All I can hear are muffles! Frustrated I reach for the handle, just as the door swings open and Rebecca flounces out.

‘Oh, hi Clara,’ she flashes me a Cheshire cat grin and heads down the lobby before I have chance to reply.

I stride into the studio and slam my bag down on the table, slightly harder than I intended.

‘Everything OK?’ Oliver shouts from the other end of the studio.

‘Yup. Everything is just great.’ I reply through gritted teeth and flip open my diary.

I know I am being petulant but I really can’t shrug off how annoyed I am.

‘Wow! You look great! Going somewhere nice?’ He looks me up and down appreciatively and props himself up at the table.

‘Actually yes, I have a date tonight.’ I stare him dead in the eye and try to compute his reaction.

‘Did we say tonight? I thought we said Friday?’ He smiles back at me and flicks on his computer. If he is bothered in the slightest he doesn’t show it.

‘So who is the lucky guy? What’s his name? What does he do?’ He asks without looking at me.

Ha! I knew it would get to him!

‘His name is George, he’s a barman.’

‘A barman?’ Oliver laughs and scratches his stubble. ‘Way to shoot for the stars, Clara.’

‘And what is wrong with a barman? About the same level as a PA isn’t it?’ The words are out before I have chance to realise what I have said.

‘PA? What are you talking about, PA?  He looks at me puzzled and shakes his head.

‘I saw you with Rebecca this morning.’

‘Yeah, and?’ It was raining, she was at the bus stop, I drove past and gave her a ride.’ He shrugs his shoulders and holds his hands up. ‘Why do you care anyway?’

‘I don’t.’ I bite my tongue and tuck my hair behind my ears, turning back to my dairy.

I smile to myself, relieved that nothing happened between them, but also concerned by how much the thought bothered me. Trying to ignore the growing tension in the room, I load up my emails. Thankfully, I have a meeting with Marc scheduled for 11.00 which will get me out of the studio for a while. He needs an update on the designs so far, but I’m pretty sure all he really wants is to warn me to behave myself at the weekend.

Just thinking of the fashion exhibition excites me. I have already lined up a selection of outfits and dragged my travel case down from the loft. I have wanted to get away for a while now. Only last month I tried to book a weekend in Paris, but missed out due to a nasty bout of gastroenteritis. Well, Manchester might not be Paris, but it’s a good place to start.

I arrive at Dream Bean Coffee that evening and take a seat next to the window. Why do I always arrive early? I decide to decline a drink and wait for George to get here instead. Thankfully, I don’t have to wait for long, as two minutes later, I see George making his way down the street. He looks adorable, wrapped up in a maroon scarf and reefer jacket. I think we can safely say we have waved goodbye to summer now. I catch his eye and raise my hand in recognition. Seeing him smile when he waves back makes me flush with happy endorphins.

‘Hi,’ I stand up to greet him and gladly accept a kiss on the cheek. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m good. Have you got a drink yet?’ He peers behind me at the table and reaches for his wallet. ‘Cappuccino?’

I nod and he heads over to the counter. The fat girl inside me rubs her hands with glee as he points to a huge slice of carrot cake and holds up two fingers. I watch him make his way back over to our table, expertly balancing a tray of frothy coffee and cake. He shrugs off his jacket and hangs it over the back of his chair before passing me a coffee.

‘Thank you. I need this, today has been pretty hectic.’

‘I’m guessing you will be glad of this then,’ he pushes a piece of cake towards me and smiles.

‘I love carrot cake!’ I pick up my fork a take a big bite and flash him the thumbs up sign. ‘How has your day been?’

George fills me in on his lazy morning, doing nothing more than a quick run around the supermarket. A little bit of me feels jealous, but I couldn’t think of anything worse than working in a bar until the early hours. Oliver’s words about him being only a barman ring in my ears. So what if he doesn’t have much money, a proper career, or any responsibilities. We can’t all be hot shot, millionaire designers, living in multi million pound apartments. The devil dances around my mind and whispers in my ear, no, but you can date one.

Saying my goodbyes to George and walking back to the car, I feel a little sad to be leaving him so soon. Almost the same as when you have to leave a puppy and go to work. I may not have fireworks when I am with George, but the feelings of safety and content he brings to me are overwhelming. I almost feel bad about going off to Manchester with Oliver, but to be fair, I’m not dating Oliver, I’m not even officially dating George for that matter. For all I know, Oliver is just teasing me and to George, I may just be one of many. He is a barman after all and we all know the reputation they have.

Driving home, I curse myself for over thinking things and always assuming the worst in pretty much every situation. I need to speak to Lianna. She always puts me back on the straight and narrow when my mind starts to go AWOL. Doing a three point turn in the road, I turn around and head towards her apartment. It is times like this when I regret not having a roommate, or at least a cat or something relatively lifelike to talk to when I get home.

Cruising down Lianna’s road I take in all the luxury apartment blocks, pausing to check out the prestige cars that line the roadside. I used to be incredibly jealous of the glitzy lifestyle of city apartment living, but apartments never really felt like home to me. It would take a hell of a lot to prise me away from my little two up, two down house.

Pulling up outside her building, I switch off the ignition and grab my handbag. I run over to the main entrance, trying to escape the cold and push the buzzer. I have been waiting for what seems like forever, when Lianna’s voice finally comes through the speakers.

‘Hello?’

‘Hi, it’s me.’

‘Clara?’

‘Of course, Clara! Let me in, it’s freezing!’ I stamp my feet in protest.

There’s a rather a lengthy pause before she buzzes me through. Weird, maybe the telecom is playing up again.  Making my way to the fifth floor, I reach the second level before I regret my decision to take the stairs. No wonder Lianna is pencil thin. I reach Lianna’s apartment totally out of puff and red in the face. Knocking at the door, I lean against the wall to give my legs a break. Hearing muffled voices from inside, I knock again.

‘Li? Can you hear me?’

The door opens a few inches and Lianna pops her very ruffled head out.

‘Hi! How are you? Is everything OK?’ She eyes me up quizzically.

‘Yes, I just thought I would call in on my way home. Is this a bad time?’

‘It’s never a bad time! It’s just, erm...Dan’s here.’ She blushes and crinkles up her nose in embarrassment.

‘Oh, God! I should have phoned! Totally my fault, don’t worry about it.’

‘No! Still come in, have a drink with us.’

I eye her up dubiously, before pushing open the door a little more and revealing a half naked Dan on the couch sipping a Corona. Averting my eyes quickly, I pull the door back, shutting him out of sight.

‘You go and have fun. I’ll call you tomorrow.’

‘You sure?’

‘Positive.’ I blow her a kiss and wave her back inside.

I head for the lift and shake my head. That’ll teach me not to call ahead. Maybe I will get a cat after all.