‘I’ll have a tea and one of those cupcakes please.’
The cupcake I’m pointing to is only the most beautiful cupcake every created in the world. It's got yellow and blue swirls, with a glittery flower in the middle of it.
Goth girl grunts and presses the buttons on the machine. You’d think she’d make a bit of an effort. I do come in here most mornings. And lunchtimes. And occasionally after work. OK, so I’m basically here all the time. All the more reason for her to make an effort. Yet each time she just grunts and throws my tea at me. Maybe it's me. Maybe she could be my friend for tomorrow night. That way I wouldn’t have to bother running around desperately after work.
Ok, think friendly.
‘Has it been a busy morning?’ I ask, trying to sound bright and perky.
She nods. Ok, well that's put an end to that conversation. Think Poppy, think.
‘Do you...like working here?’
She turns from the very loud machine to stare at me as if I’m crazy.
‘Do I like working here? Are you mad?’ She narrows her eyes at me suspiciously.
‘No. I just wondered. Trying to…make conversation, you know.’ I wish I hadn’t bothered.
‘You don't have to bother,’ she shrugs.
She is SO rude!
‘Well it's better than the awkward silence while the machine spurts all over the place,’ I snap.
She turns to look me square in the eye, as if she's sussing me out. Then she relents.
‘I hate it. Glenda bosses me around all day and makes me work weekends and I stink of coffee.’
‘Oh. Well...at least...you’re providing a service to people. You know...people without tea or coffee, they’d be nightmares. And people love cakes. You’re probably saving loads of people from grumpy bosses. Take mine for example. He’s a right misery most of the time but the quick half hour after he’s had his coffee he’s like a different person.’ I realise I’m speaking really fast, but I can't help it, the nerves are spurring me on.
‘Really? Your boss is a nightmare too?’
‘Oh totally! He’s the fucking devil incarnate, in truth.’
‘Well...I suppose that makes me feel a bit better.’ She smiles slightly.
‘Exactly! We’re all in the same boat.’
‘Here you go.’ She hands over the beautiful cupcake and tea. I give her my money before I drool over it.
Through all of her piercings she has a pretty face with clear blue eyes. I’ve already laid the groundwork. I just need the guts to ask her.
‘Actually,’ I say, stalling. ‘I...I was wondering if you fancied going out tomorrow night. A few friends of mine are going to Nobo in Soho and it's gonna be a laugh. It might cheer you up?’
‘I’m not sure.’ She wrinkles her face up.
God the rejection is hard. This is why I don't ask guy’s out.
‘Go on. You deserve to let your hair down.’ I smile desperately.
‘No it's not that,’ she says, looking everywhere apart from me. ‘It's just...well...’
‘What?’
‘I don't play on your team,’ she blurts out, suddenly red all over.
Same team? What team? Does she mean netball?
‘You...you think I’m a lesbian?!’ I shriek.
A few people sitting down with their coffees turn to look at me. Maybe I was a bit loud.
‘Yes. I mean...weren’t you trying to chat me up?’
‘No! Jesus, I was just trying to be friendly. I won't bloody bother next time!’ I grab my tea and cupcake, getting ready to run, wondering if I’ll ever be able to show my face in here again.
‘No! Please! Honestly, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to piss you off. It's just...’
‘It's just you thought I was a massive lesbian. Why the hell would you think that? Do I give off a massive lesbian vibe or something?’
‘No. But....you know. The way you dress and stuff, I did wonder. And then with you asking all of those questions – I just put two and two together.’
‘Yeah and got a hundred and twenty-five!’ I shout, feeling flushed.
Do I dress like a lesbian and not realise it? Maybe when everyone moans at me to dress more feminine it's actually because they think I look like a complete fanny muncher. Don't get me wrong, I’ve got nothing against lesbians. My Cousin Carolyn’s one. To be honest I totally get it. Men are baboons. But me? I thought lesbians were butch, with boy haircuts and they wore work boots and listened to indie music?
‘I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.’
‘No it's fine. I’ve gotta go.’ I turn, my cheeks hot from humiliation.
‘No please! I will come out with you. 8pm at Nobo right? I’ll be there!’
‘Whatever.’ I just want to get the hell out of here. I walk quickly to the door and then I drop my cupcake.
* * *
I still can't stop thinking about it. Not the cupcake, I got over that about an hour ago. Do I look like a lesbian? Is that why Ryan isn’t showing any interest in me? Does he think I’m a lesbian? Do I need to send out a newsletter or something?
‘Poppy, you’ve got a visitor downstairs,’ Gavin says, breaking me from my thoughts.
‘Oh yeah, who is it?’ I say shortly, glaring at him. ‘Michael Flatley? Louis Walsh? I’ve had enough of the Irish jokes, ok!’
‘Wow! Chill!’ he says, his hands up in defence. ‘It's your Mum.’
‘My Mum?’ I ask, puzzled.
‘Yep. She’s downstairs.’
Oh great.
‘Really? She didn’t tell me she was coming.’
I wander down the stairs into reception and there she is. She’s wearing a zebra print suit with an orange t-shirt. Her hair is scooped up into its usual clip.
‘Hi Mum.’ I quickly look around, eager for no-one to see her.
‘Hi darling! I can't believe I’ve never been to your offices before. They’re really...’ she trails off as she looks around at the cracked plaster and Suzanne the receptionist picking her teeth.
‘Yes, well anyway. What are you doing here?’
‘I’m meeting you for lunch darling.’ She looks at me as if I’m mad.
‘Did you send me an e-mail or something?’ I sigh, trying not to show how frustrated with her I am.
‘No. I just thought I’d pop along. You’re not busy are you?’
‘Um, actually. I’m not sure. I have got loads on,’ I stall.
‘Oh. Well remember darling, I have trekked all the way here from home. To London, crime capital of England. I can't believe I’m still alive to be honest with you. It’d be an awful shame for me to have to go back hungry.’
God – always with the guilt trip.
‘Ok. I’ll just grab my bag.’ I walk back to my desk cursing under my breath. It's so typical for her to just turn up and expect me to drop everything.
‘Guess what!’ Lilly shouts, running up to me with flushed cheeks.
‘What?’ I ask, my voice flat and uninterested.
‘Me and Alex have just put an offer in on a flat. And it's been accepted!’
Oh my God.
‘Isn’t that amazing!’ she shrieks, dancing up and down, her boobs nearly falling out of her top.
She can't be buying a flat. She’s about to get made redundant.
‘I...’ I clear my throat uncomfortably. ‘I didn’t even know you were looking?’
‘I know. That's Alex; he was all like don't tell anyone until we’ve found a place, we’ll just jinx it. Bless him,’ she giggles.
‘Are you sure...I mean, do you think it's a good time for you to buy?’
‘Yeah of course. We’re both in stable jobs, we’ve got a deposit and been accepted for a mortgage. Why wouldn’t we?’ She narrows her eyes at me accusingly. ‘Why, is there something you know that I don't?’
You’re going to be made redundant and be stuck with a flat that you’ll probably have to have repossessed.
‘No!’ I shriek unnaturally.
‘Because if you know something I don't, you should tell me’. She’s looking at me really upset now, her big eyes boring into mine. ‘Because if Alex is having an affair, I want to know now!’
‘Affair?’
‘Yes! If you know he’s having an affair I should know now! So is he? Yes or no?’
‘No! Of course it's a no! I’m sorry.’ I pull myself desperately together. ‘I just worry about you stretching yourself too thin with money and stuff.’
‘Ah Pops,’ she beams at me. ‘I love how you worry about me, but don't worry. That's what we got a financial advisor for.’
‘Ok,’ I say, unconvinced. ‘I’ve gotta go to lunch with my mum anyway.’
‘Good luck,’ she laughs, already running off to tell everyone else.
When I walk back down the stairs Mum’s telling Suzanne about how wonderful dry shampoo is and how she should use it to stop her hair being greasy.
‘Come on Mum.’ I drag her away, smiling apologetically at Suzanne.
‘Oh, lovely girl that Suzanne. Just a bloody shame about the greasy hair.’
‘Mum! We haven’t even left the reception yet,’ I whisper.
‘Well some people need to be told,’ she scoffs, completely unembarrassed.
‘Ok whatever. Anyway, where do you want to go for lunch? There’s a nice little Italian a few roads away from here.’