Miss Wrong and Mr Right(5)

My flat is tiny, and the kitchen is a little like the galley of a ship, thin and narrow with everything on the walls; cooker, fridge, washing machine, microwave. I closed the kitchen door quietly, so I wouldn’t wake Benjamin. Under a long window at the end, overlooking the communal garden is a small breakfast bar where I’d laid out my makeup, hairdryer, and hair straighteners. I popped a capsule into the coffee machine and plugged in the straighteners to heat up. I loathe my frizzy hair and spend a fortune on product to tame it. I have it down to a fine art, and can do it in twenty minutes. I switched on the radio quietly and jiggled along to the music as I drank my coffee, and dried and styled my hair.

As I was gathering up my Blackberry, Kindle, and laptop from their unofficial charging station on the floor beside the fridge, the kitchen door opened and Benjamin came in. He had on just his boxer shorts and he was rubbing his eyes.

‘Sorry, did I wake you up?’ I asked shoving everything into my oversized handbag.

‘No. Mmmm. You look nice. Namaste,’ he growled putting his hands around my waist and pulling me against him. He is very tall; I reach up to his shoulder. He was warm and firm against me, and I put my hand up and ran it through his short salt and pepper hair. His hands moved down to my thigh and started to slide up the material of my skirt. He leant down and kissed me, then pulled away a tiny bit and flashed me a wicked smile.

‘You’ve brushed your teeth before breakfast,’ I said.

‘Yes,’ he said and pulled me against him.

‘I can’t, Benjamin,’ I said. ‘I have to get to work…’

‘Busy girl,’ he said, releasing me with a sulky pout.

‘I’m hardly a girl Benjamin,’ I said, checking my bag again and locating my sunglasses.

‘Yes, you are knocking forty… hang on,’ he said and left the kitchen.

‘I’m only thirty-five!’ I said peering at my reflection in the chrome kettle. I waited for a couple of minutes, then seeing the time, went through to the bedroom.

‘What are you doing? I have to go,’ I snapped. He was perched on the end of the bed with his backpack open, pulling out clothes, his laptop, shoes, a tightly packed wash bag.

‘Why don’t you at least leave your wash bag here?’ I said. ‘And I could leave mine at yours? And maybe my hair straighteners? We lug so much stuff across London to see each other…’

‘Natalie,’ sighed Benjamin still rummaging through his bag. ‘It’s important to have our own space. Keeps it exciting…’

‘I’d find it exciting not to pack a mini suitcase on wheels every time I stay over,’ I said. He carried on rummaging through his backpack, a pile of stuff growing on the carpet beside him. At the bottom he found a plastic wallet. He opened it and extracted a biro and one of the leaflets he’d had printed for the yoga studio he runs. Under the ‘BENJI YOGA’ logo he scrawled his email address and wrote, ‘ATTN: Ryan Harrison - discretion assured.’ He held it out to me.

‘Benjamin,’ I said crossing my arms.

‘Natalie you promised me you would give this to Ryan Harrison,’ he said.

‘Yes… But, jeez not today. Give it a few days.’

‘Yes, and then he finds somewhere else to practise yoga.’

‘We don’t even know if he does yoga?’

‘He’s a hugely famous television actor from Los Angeles. Believe me. He does yoga.’

Benjamin stood up, and took my head in his hands.

‘You are the theatre manager Natalie, the boss. I trust you to do the right thing… It will be good for me, and in turn good for us. Maybe I could reconsider you leaving some things at my flat.’

‘Okay,’ I said taking the leaflet. ‘I’ll do my best.’

‘Thank you Natalie. Namaste.’ He leant in and kissed me, then started to repack his bag.

‘You know, you could still come along tonight to the launch party. Sharon’s coming too…’

‘I won’t miss my meditation workshop. It’s important to me,’ said Benjamin.

‘This is important to me,’ I countered.

‘It’s nice that we both have important things in our lives Natalie,’ he said, not getting what I meant. He zipped up his backpack and came with me to the front door. I grabbed the dress garment bag containing my outfit for later, and checked in my bag that I had my keys.

‘Why don’t I give you a key,’ I said impulsively, seeing the spare on my bunch of keys. Benjamin paused.

‘Um, okay,’ he said. There was an awkward silence as I wrestled it off the key ring. I finally got it free and handed it to him.