Me, You and Tiramisu Read online

  Jayne was making no effort to conceal her excitement; she’d even wriggled to the edge of her seat, sitting as far forward as she could without gravity making the chair tip. ‘I can’t believe this! Okay, start with how you got here,’ she said, taking a bite of her garlic bread.

  ‘Bus. Number 33.’

  ‘No, you arse, why are you in London? What do you do here? Do you live here?’

  Smiling at Jayne’s impatience, he said, ‘Yes I do, I moved here after catering college and then–’

  ‘You’re a chef! You always said you wanted to be – well done! Wow! That’s awesome!’

  ‘He’s a chef, Jayne, not a nuclear physicist, let the poor man speak,’ Rachel rolled her eyes at her sister, ‘Sheesh!’

  ‘Sorry, please continue.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he bowed his head in mock reverence. ‘So anyway, after college, I came up here to work in a kitchen in a hotel, which was really hard work but I stuck at it for about three years because even though the head chef was a nightmare, he was also amazing. But then I realised that I was in London and I should be enjoying it rather than being stuck in a sweaty kitchen pan-searing scallops all night every night, so I went to work in a riverfront café in Richmond, which was cool, very trendy, and stayed there for another three or four years and then last year I opened up my own deli.’ He paused, looking from one sister to the other, ‘What about you guys? Rachel, is Vivienne Westwood threatened by your genius yet?’

  ‘Sadly not,’ Rachel ventured as she dipped a breadstick in balsamic, ‘but I did go down the design route, kind of. I work for an interior-design firm, we do bars and restaurants. But not ones like this. More glass and metal and uncomfortable bar stools. Places where city types go to spend huge amounts of money on martinis.’

  ‘She’s underselling herself,’ said Jayne, ‘you should see some of the places she does, they’re amazing – the one at the top of the Midas Tower was incredible.’ Jayne turned briefly to her sister, ‘It was a bit dark, though. It was really difficult to read while I waited for you.’

  ‘Jayne, you are the only loser who would actually bring a book to a bar, so no offence, but that comment doesn’t count.’

  ‘A-hem.’ Will reached into his jacket pocket and held his book aloft for Rachel to see.

  ‘Oh. Okay, you two are the only losers.’

  Will and Jayne shared a conspiratory smile, and then he said, ‘So Jayne, what do you do, apart from sneak in unapproved, yet indisputably genius, books to classrooms?’

  ‘I teach English and drama.’ She couldn’t help but sound a little apologetic at her career choice – here he was fulfilling a dream he’d had since he was fifteen, as was Rachel, kind of, and she spent her days specialising in riot control at a rowdy comprehensive. She clearly recalled sitting on the harbour wall in Brixham eating chips with Billy, announcing that she was either going to be an actress, a criminologist or a marine biologist. As a teenager you had all these fanciful ambitions that it never occurred to you weren’t realistic.

  Mrs Slade, the careers advisor, once went around the room asking each child in turn what they wanted to do in life. Claire Bishop, who now showed people to their tables at The Inn on The Green, home of the two-meals-for-a-tenner menu, was adamant that she was going to work for NASA, and if you’d have told a fifteen-year-old Paul Ackroyd that he would forgo a future in politics for a spot on the fast-track graduate training scheme at Morrisons’ he’d have punched you in the face. Although, the fear of the act of violence returning to haunt him when he reached the hallowed door of Number Ten might have stopped him.

  ‘But teaching’s cool,’ Will said, ‘is it fun?’

  ‘You know what, it actually really is. I did drama at uni, and for a while wanted to go into acting, and so I did a couple of crappy plays that no one went to apart from friends of the actors who were in them–’

  ‘That’s not true, you were really good!’ Rachel interrupted. ‘Especially that one where you were an old Italian widow – what was that called?’

  ‘I was a Romany gypsy, and no, I wasn’t, but thank you.’ Jayne tipped her wine glass at her sister in a silent toast, ‘and so then I set up a drama club for kids who otherwise would be stabbing each other in the neck with sharpened pencils, and loved it, so then did a teaching course and here I am, ten years later, deputy head of English and Drama at what The Globe once called ‘The worst school in Britain’.’

  ‘And is it?’

  ‘No, not really, it’s in a bad area, and the exam results aren’t great, but apart from your usual handful of sociopaths that I should probably tip the police off about now to save time later, the kids are fab, and I love it.’

  ‘That’s really good,’ Will leant back in his chair, ‘I’m so pleased both of you found things you really like, and managed to get the hell away from Cruella. Sorry, am I allowed to call her that?’

  ‘That’s being kind, and not leaving Paignton was never an option!’ spat Rachel. ‘Can you imagine, if we hadn’t got out when we did, Jayne would be working in one of those amusement arcades that only have 2p machines that move back and forwards and I’d be on the game.’

  ‘At least you’d make money from sleeping with lots of men,’ Jayne jibed, ‘at the moment, you’re doing it for free.’

  Rachel pinched her sister’s arm while pretending to pointedly ignore her comment. Focusing her attention solely on Will, she said, ‘I haven’t been back to Devon since leaving home at eighteen. Jayne goes back a bit more than me.’

  ‘What about your grandparents, though? You guys were quite close to them weren’t you?’

  ‘Sadly Pops died a few years ago, but Granny’s still fabulous,’ Jayne smiled, ‘We get her up to London a few times a year – she stays in town and we go for afternoon tea at the Savoy and to Sadler’s Wells to see the ballet. Basically she keeps us cultured in our otherwise heathen existences. But what about you? How long did you live in Slough?’

  ‘Ah, Slough. You know how in the credits for The Office it shows that big grey 1970s building on a busy roundabout? Well, that’s the best bit of it. I’m not kidding. Dad still lives there with his new wife, Trish, but I was hatching an escape plan pretty much as soon as we arrived there.’

  ‘So where do you live now?’

  ‘Richmond, above the deli.’

  ‘I love Richmond!’ Jayne gushed, ‘So you’ve been a couple of miles away from us all this time.’

  ‘Indeed.’ Will’s eyes twinkled, ‘I can’t believe you guys are here – this is awesome.’ The three of them sat in an easy silence, the kind that only happens when you’re with people who know each other really well, and even though almost two decades had passed since their last moment of amiable peace, it didn’t appear to matter at all.

  They were still reminiscing and laughing long after their plates of tiramisu and coffees had been finished. The waiters started upending chairs on all the empty tables around them. The message couldn’t have been less overt had the staff all come out in their pyjamas.

  ‘I think that’s our cue. Subtle, aren’t they?’ Rachel said, thanking Will as he gallantly helped her back into her faux fur.

  ‘So, do you live near here? I can walk you back if you like?’

  Jayne quickly replied, ‘that would be great,’ trying to sound as nonchalant as a bottle and a half of thirteen per cent wine would allow, at the exact moment Rachel replied, ‘No thanks, we’ll be fine.’ Sensing the eagerness, bordering on desperation, in her sister’s voice, Rachel then countered, ‘I mean, if it’s not too much trouble …’

  Jayne knew she’d said it before, and no doubt would do again, but as the three of them linked arms and started weaving drunkenly towards the door, she made a telepathic pledge to work really hard to stop all wars and be the catalyst for bringing about world peace if God could just manage to make Will fall in love with her. Again.

  Chapter 4

  She felt a bit guilty about asking Him for an escape route out of singledom when there wer
e refugees and victims of human trafficking and lepers in the world. Were there still lepers in the world? Jayne drunkenly wondered as they reached the Thai takeaway they lived above. Rachel started fumbling with her keys in the lock when Will leaned forward and said quietly in Jayne’s ear, ‘I’d really like to see you again.’

  Deliberately misunderstanding, to protect herself from looking stupid Jayne replied, ‘That would be great, I’ll check with Rachel when’s good for her and let you know.’ Rachel’s back stayed resolutely facing them, even though she’d already turned the key in the lock.

  Will, slightly chastened, swayed from foot to foot, ‘Um, obviously I want to hang out with both of you sometime, but I actually meant just you. By yourself. With me.’

  ‘Oh. Cool. Um, yes, that would be fine. I mean great. That would be wonderful. I’m free tomorrow.’ She checked her watch and saw that it was after midnight, ‘I mean today, tonight. Oh Jesus, does that make me sound really desperate? I mean I usually do have a really packed rock’n’roll schedule, but as luck would have it I’ve just had a cancellation,’ she grinned sheepishly. ‘And now I’m talking too much. You can retract your invitation at any time and I absolutely will not be offended.’

  He smiled and ducked his head so his lips brushed her cheek ‘Tonight sounds awesome. There’s a little wine bar in Richmond called Magnum’s, do you know it? How about we meet there at eight?’

  Will was barely out of earshot when Rachel spun round on the doorstep screaming. ‘O.M.G. He asked you out! You’re going on a date with him! This is beyond brilliant!’ Her eyes suddenly grew wide in horror, ‘Oh God. You have absolutely nothing to wear. If only we were the same size, that new DVF shirtdress I bought last week would be perfect. Right. I’m meant to be doing Zumba with Marco but I’ll tell him we’re spending the day finding you something gorgeous, he’ll understand.’ She started typing furiously on her phone, ‘I’ll tell him to meet us at Selfridges at ten.’

  ‘Ten? A.m.? On a Saturday? Seriously Rachel, I’ve got clothes, it’s not as though I walk around with nothing on all day every day, I’ll dig something out.’

  ‘Dig something out? Please tell me you didn’t just say that you would ‘dig something out’ for possibly the most important date you’ve ever had or ever likely to have? Jesus, Jayne, can you start taking this seriously?’

  It had always been the same. When they were little Rachel used to lay out Jayne’s clothes for her each morning to take away the risk of her making a huge sartorial error. Even Rachel’s school uniform had been customised to the point of bearing little resemblance to its original incarnation. Her skirt had given two fingers to the school regulation of knee-length and she’d even cut her tie in half all the way down before carefully hemming it. Jayne had commented at the time that she’d looked like a country-and-western singer, but like Rachel had swiftly retorted, ‘It’s called fashion, Jayne. You wouldn’t understand.’ Which was true. It wasn’t that she didn’t care how she looked, but she’d always placed function above form in life, and warmth and comfort received greater prioritisation than colour or shape.

  Jayne sighed. Resistance was futile. ‘Fine, if it’s so important to you to take me shopping and do a Gok, then okay, I will allow you and Marco to guide me through the maze of Selfridges, but if either of you make any attempt to manhandle me into dresses or make any reference to my ‘bangers’, I’m walking out and you can get another hobby.’

  ‘Deal.’ Her phone pinged. I’m there like a bear. Mxx

  Dear Lord, what had she let herself in for? Thankfully Jayne had had a lifetime of dealing with Rachel, and Marco was the exact replica of her, right down to their shared love of the naked male anatomy. They’d felt a gravitational pull towards each other during design college somewhere between the module on concealing air-conditioning vents and the importance of layering textures in your soft furnishings. Back then he was called Mark, before the run-of-the-mill ‘k’ was dropped in favour of the most exotic ‘co’.

  Learning the art of making friends at the age of nineteen was a new one for both of the sisters but Rachel, with her chemically straightened afro cut into an angular black bob, heavily rimmed kohl eyes and a scowl that said, ‘what the hell do you want?’ permanently inked on her face, found it harder.

  Jayne had tried to get her to smile encouragingly or even just tone down the stare that said: ‘I could kill you with one sarcastic put-down’. Rachel had howled with mirth when Jayne suggested that ‘a stranger was just a friend she hadn’t met yet’, which made her silently vow to stop reading the slogans on t-shirts and memorising them for future repetition. Rachel wasn’t being deliberately rude or obtuse, though, the truth was she was just fiercely independent. Their upbringing had turned Jayne into an apologetic people-pleaser and given Rachel an almost impenetrable body armour.

  Jayne had also spent most of her university life with her nose touching her textbooks, but for her it was borne partly out of love for her subject and more than she would ever admit because it was the first time she wasn’t in the same class as Rachel. They’d never had to experience that moment where you walk into a new classroom and have to do the dreaded scan to see where the empty places were and who looked the least-offensive person to sit by, because they’d always been greeted by the other one with one hand in the air waving and the other firmly planted on the seat next to them, mouthing ‘saved’ at anyone that dared to attempt to sit down.

  Everyone always assumed that being a twin meant that you had this invisible bubble sealed around you that repelled and reflected any outside interference, and this was sort of true, it does take a very special kind of person to see a crack and squeeze into it, and boy, was Mark/co persistent. When Rachel called her sister excitedly on her way home one day in her second term to say that she’d met this guy called Mark and they were going to see one of his friends play in a band that night at a random bar in Clapham, Jayne couldn’t have been more surprised. Nice surprised. Not a little bit jealous in the least. Nope, not her. Good on Rachel. And Mark. She had hoped they were very happy together.

  Thankfully this level of ‘nicely surprised’ soon gave way to ‘actually nicely surprised’ because Marco became the confidante that Rachel always wanted Jayne to be. It meant that she turned to him to discuss the guest editorship of the latest issue of Wallpaper and whether perspex platforms were going to make a comeback. Jayne had very little to contribute on either of these topics, so Marco being around actually worked in everyone’s favour.

  How Jayne escaped relatively unscathed from the morning’s shopping she had no idea – in fact she was pretty certain Rachel and Marco would still be standing outside the changing room suggesting that if she leant forward, she could squeeze into the bodycon dress a little easier, had she not called time on the whole charade at about three. Jayne had got so bored she’d even resorted to taking armfuls of clothes into the cubicle with her, locking the door and then sitting in the corner playing solitaire on her mobile pretending to change, while her personal shoppers shouted out encouraging comments and questions, such as ‘what does the teal one look like?’ To which she’d replied things like, ‘what’s teal?’ while putting a three of clubs on top of a four of hearts.

  They’d finally all decided that skinny jeans were not made for her – Jayne knew this after trying one pair on; why she had to try on a further three pairs was beyond her, ‘They’re different brands, so different cuts,’ was Marco’s reasoning, but she thought the clue was in the name. But the outfit that finally raised a smile from Rachel, jazz hands from Marco and an ‘Hallelujah’ from Jayne was a long maxi dress with a swirly paisley print in oranges and reds, which, according to Rachel, was very ‘retro-chic’ which was, apparently, a good thing.

  That evening she teamed her new purchase with her failsafe denim jacket that had been a faithful staple of her wardrobe for a decade, big hoop earrings and, miracles of miracles, hair that seemed to instinctively know that it had to behave itself, and she was ready to go.
r />   ‘You look lush, Jayne, really lush.’ Rachel stood to give her a hug and Marco gave her a big thumbs-up from the sofa, where he was lounging, throwing cashews into his open mouth. ‘If you’re not coming home tonight, text me.’

  ‘Shut up, like that’s going to happen. It’s not even a date date. Just two friends talking about old times. Together. In a friendly, platonic, keeping-clothes-on kind of way.’

  ‘Oh okay. I’ll come too then, shall I?’ Rachel said mischievously.

  ‘Don’t you bloody dare. See you later!’

  He was already sitting at the bar when Jayne walked in, and spotting her loitering at the door, gave a little salute. Oh God, he was gorgeous. She had a flashback to the restaurant last night, even once she had the gift of 20/20 vision, she’d been so overwhelmed with the reality of who he was she hadn’t fully comprehended quite how absolutely beautiful he was. The gaunt, lanky features of fifteen-year-old Billy had mellowed and softened, and thankfully his dark straggly mullet had since been ceremoniously lopped off. Even his childlike nickname had morphed into a more mature moniker that suited his new broad shoulders and strong silhouette. The ridiculously blue eyes that had once been hidden behind a centimetre-thick piece of glass were now dancing. He stood up as Jayne approached him – gentlemanly too, she thought – and he towered over her, which, as she was just shy of six foot herself, almost never happened.

  ‘Hey you.’

  ‘Hey.’

  There was a semi-awkward moment where they both weighed up how to add an element of tactility to the greeting. Kiss, hug, both? Both it was. Excellent.