Page 16 of Did My Love Life Shrink in the Wash?
‘Up for what, exactly?’ I enquire.
I grip onto Joe tightly.
‘So, that young lady over there is Special K,’ says Giles.
Paddy looks at me like he can’t quite believe the comedy value the pub is giving him tonight for names. The girl in question is wearing denim that’s pretty much ripped from all angles like she’s been caught in a shredder, shards of her brown skin shining through. She’s undeniably pretty, edgy too, and waves in our direction. Paddy waves back.
‘We were supposed to shoot her album cover today. It was very high concept, there was supposed to be a baby involved but the baby wasn’t playing ball and so we were just wondering if we could use Joe here?’
‘She’s a musician?’ I ask.
‘A rapper.’
‘But named after a breakfast cereal?’ Paddy asks. I laugh.
‘I just shoot the pictures,’ Giles says, waving back at the table. ‘We’re shooting in a studio down the road. Come on over when you’re finished, it’d take moments. Your son is a beautiful baby and you’d be digging me out of a massive hole.’ He places a glossy business card on the table, that saysTwinkle Twinkle. ‘We’re eating too; finish up and maybe think about it? Look me up or give the head office a call if you’re worried.’
Paddy nods while I scan Giles’ team trying to work them out. It’s all very trendy, definitely not in keeping with the early bird special vibe of the pub.
‘I am so sorry to interrupt your family meal,’ he says.
‘It’s fine, thank you.’
I’m not sure what else there is to say. Paddy’s not family. And Joe could be a model? All at once, I find that quite hilarious. The kid can’t even crawl; how will he manage a catwalk? He also eats a fair bit for a baby. I believe that’s not what models do. I sit here for a moment as Joe’s eyes follow Giles back to his table, mesmerised by the patterns on his shirt.
‘Told you Joe was beautiful,’ Paddy says proudly.
‘All babies are beautiful,’ I reply.
‘Nope, he wasn’t chasing that mum whose baby looked like a cabbage.’
I stuff some chips in my mouth, all golden and crispy. ‘Wasn’t that a bit weird? Scouting a baby in a pub?’ I say through mouthfuls of potato.
‘Maybe. He’s also got a beard. Just tread carefully.’
He studies their table from behind me.
‘What’s wrong with beards?’
‘They’re unhygienic. That bloke in flat five has one and I saw half a meatball fall out of his beard once.’
‘That never happened.’
‘Yes, it did. Now eat up. All things considered, I quite like the idea of Joe being on an album cover. Betty would love that.’ I smile back broadly. The business card shimmers on the table, and Joe promptly puts in his mouth and starts eating it.
Will gets back at nine thirty that evening. By this point, I’m filled to the brim with pub grub. I’m sitting in bed, changed out of my dress and back in the safety of my trackies and T-shirt, chowing down on some Maltesers. Joe is sprawled out next to me and has that look about him, like he’s wasted on milk. I wonder if it tasted like fish and chips. I’m binge watching some crime drama that makes me never want to go on a night bus again.
Will comes straight through to the bedroom. Whereas I’ve lost control of my wardrobe and all concept of what is fashionable these days, Will has battled hard not to be a white-collar suit man, wearing his standard uniform of checked shirt, jeans and Converse. He was dressed in the exact same thing when I first met him. It was at a Fun Lovin’ Criminals gig at the Brixton Academy where we struck up a conversation in the cloakroom queue.I’m Will. Beth. We joked how these queues were always super long and how we shouldn’t have brought a coat. But then we’d never have met, Will said. We both laughed when we were handed our khaki parka jackets at the same time. And let’s face it, we were both pretty smashed so were snogging by the time we got outside the venue. He accessorises today with giant wireless earphones and a cool Scandinavian-branded satchel. In the winter, the look features a duffel coat and a beanie. It’s indie chic that’s been dragged into our thirties.
‘You eaten?’ I ask him.
‘I had a Burger King. I went large. I feel filthy.’
He comes over to kiss my forehead. I immediately pick up on a strong scent of beer.
‘You’ve been drinking?’
‘I had a few pints with Jason. Killer day. Sam was down my neck, the stress was unreal. I had to unwind.’
