Page 66 of Did My Love Life Shrink in the Wash?
‘More gift cards, a cotton tote book bag and some organic candle melts with hints of ginger and tangerine.’
‘A veritable treasure trove.’
I hold everything up for her approval. She pulls a face to see the sunflower suncatcher that may be homemade. She mocks the old lady scarf, though maybe that’s someone hinting I need to hide my aged turkey neck. I gorge on this pizza. Man, it’s everything I need: crisp base, soft gooey cheese and tangy pineapple. She even called a fancy restaurant to order it. I’m the only one in the family who says pineapple belongs on pizza and even though the sisters tease me for it, it’s also become my trademark. Even if I have nothing else to look forward to, tonight me and this pizza are having a torrid one-night stand.
‘You really love pineapple, eh?’ Grace says.
‘It’s the king of fruits. It even has its own crown. It belongs on everything.’
‘Just not pizza.’
I stick my tongue out at her.
‘I miss you, Gracie.’
‘I miss you, too. Can we just hang out tonight? Until my reception decides it’s going to give up? I could keep you company?’
And for a brief moment, my heart glows. That could be the acid from having eaten three pieces of pizza in quick succession, but I prop the phone up next to me to let her watch the telly.Thisis birthday goals. She holds up a bottle of beer to the screen to toast me and sits back in a striped folding chair, faded and worn.
‘Is this show basically a modern-dayGladiators?’ she asks. ‘At least back then there were fit blokes to look at in leotards…’
‘Exactly.’ We watch someone fall in after slipping off a Tarzan rope. ‘Amateur. I would have made that,’ I say.
Grace giggles. That sound is everything. And we sit here not saying a word to each other, me with my pineapple pizza, watching the glow and excitement on the TV, listening to the waves lap onto some foreign distant shore.
Track Fifteen
‘Figure It Out’ – Royal Blood (2014)
Joe is sitting on a changing table before me, dressed like a banana. He’s a sodding cute banana but even my amicable and lovely baby can sense that he looks like a fool and this is being done for the amusement of others and to the detriment of his baby street cred. I usually only do high-end music video work now, Mum. I’m on iTunes.He was even sewn into the outfit to make it fit. There’s a tailor here who seems to deal in bulldog clips and safety pins.Breathe in, I told Joe. The tailor didn’t smile. I put a hand to Joe’s cheek, apologising to this son of mine. But we like bananas. They’re great, they have their own packaging. And yellow is a brilliant colour on him too. If he did one of his giant poos in this, I don’t think we’d be able to tell so it’s basically like camo.
Today, we’re in a South London studio for our first yoghurt ad with Yasmin. And because according to Grace’s advice, I needed to get out and do something that isn’t worrying about Will. Have I seen Will in the last fortnight? No. A couple of days at his brother’s turned into ten days. Not that I feel days anymore. We’ve spoken by text. He’s not so callous as to not want to know about his son, so I send him pictures but when I ask him how he is, he shuts off and the conversation ends and I sit there wondering what I’ve done wrong. Then I get angry, sad, and stalk everyone he knows on social media, unable to stop thinking about that bloody kiss. I’ve had daily teas with Paddy to keep me sane, and Lucy came round one evening with a bucket of fried chicken. In fact, all the sisters have checked in regularly. Mum as well, but we agreed not to tell Dad. Dad wouldn’t have got angry, but he’d have worried. At the heart of it, I don’t want to worry people. So instead of staring at the same four walls, contemplating my life, I’m here with yoghurts. These yoghurts are all fruit apparently, organic and yummy because kids are what they eat, hence the banana costume which is a nice idea but if I was three years old and I saw this ad of all these kids morphing into giant pieces of fruit, I’d probably give them a miss. We got here early today because Joe has been up since 5a.m. I woke up and turned to the empty space in the bed next to me, muttering,You should get up, jump in the shower.Then I realised I was speaking to nothing.
The studio is heavy industrial chic: lots of exposed brick, steel girders and massive glazed walls. We’re a chiffon curtain away from an eighties music video. As soon as Giles see us, he scuttles over and hugs me. It’s a good hug. Good grasp, little pat on the back. He bends down to grab Joe’s finger and perform some type of celebratory jig for him. Joe giggles, his eyes growing and sparkling.
‘Good morning! How are we today? So the yoghurt people love you. And when I say love…’
He shows me photos of Joe but the images seem to be scattered with other pictures of babies whose faces are crossed out. Slightly cruel but I do smile to see Joe’s face. He seems very excited about life.
‘So the costume looks bloody fab, we’ll do some initial shots. We’re waiting on Yasmin but help yourself to coffee and snacks, whatever you like. And yoghurts, geez…you’re in luck if you like bloody yoghurt. Joe’s isn’t intolerant in any way, is he?’
‘He actually doesn’t do many solids yet…’
‘They won’t care. It’s just for the visual. No one wants an ad of a kid with a full gob of food.’
Giles starts walking which I take as a lead to follow. His enthusiasm for the day seems infectious to Joe, who waves his arms to Giles’ ramblings. I’m slightly bewildered by the quantity of information coming thick and fast, yet am glad to be in the company of someone who distracts. It’s the reason we’re here. Let’s have fun today. This had better be fun. As we arrive at a line of make-up chairs, Giles hands over a gift bag.
‘Also, happy birthday.’
I look at Giles, silently.
‘Let me guess, you were invited to the party too?’
‘I did get a text.’
‘It was my interfering sister. I am glad you didn’t come actually. It was a car crash.’
‘Those are the best parties.’
