Pictures of Lily (16 page)

Not that I have a degree. I didn’t go to university. My grades weren’t good enough. At one point Ben inspired me to work harder and really make something of myself, but then he went and left. Not that I’m blaming him. I’m not bitter. Not about that, at least.

I’m bombarded with questions from Nicola before I even sit down at our receptionists’ front desk.

‘How did it go? What did she look like? Have you got pictures?’

Nicola loves weddings. I once joked that she was like Muriel out of
Muriel’s Wedding
, but she didn’t find it very funny.

‘It went beautifully, Lucy wore a gorgeous, long, simple dress, and no, I haven’t got pictures.’

‘Dammit!’ Nicola says crossly. ‘Why not?’

‘What do you mean,
why not
?’

‘Don’t you have a digital camera?’

‘No.’

She pulls a face. ‘Seriously? Everyone’s got a digital camera.’

‘Not me,’ I say firmly.

‘Don’t tell me you still use film.’

‘I don’t use anything.’

‘You haven’t got a camera?’

‘I’ve got a camera on my phone. That’s enough for me.’

‘Why didn’t you take any photos with that?’ she screeches.

‘I was too busy enjoying myself,’ I snap jokily.

She huffs and turns her back on me while I switch on my computer. Then Mel’s Gucci handbag plonks onto the stool next to me and I look up to see its owner standing there.

‘Good morning,’ she chirps brightly. ‘How was the wedding?’

‘She didn’t even take photos,’ Nicola cries from behind Mel. The three of us sit in a row, with Mel in the middle.

‘Didn’t you?’ Mel asks with mild surprise. ‘Did they have a professional photographer?’

‘A friend of a friend was doing it,’ I say. ‘All the photos will be on the website and will be free to download next week.’

‘Why didn’t you say so?’ Nicola beams.

Mel gives me a look and mouths ‘Muriel’ before clasping her hands together. ‘Who’s for tea?’

‘Yes, please,’ Nicola and I both chorus.

I feel mildly guilty. Mel always makes the tea when she comes in, usually five or ten minutes after me. I’ve become lazy now and wait for her to appear rather than go to the kitchen myself.

‘I’ve got Tim Tams,’ Nicola proclaims, pulling out a packet from her bag.

‘Oh, you shouldn’t have,’ I say, reaching for the chocolate-covered biscuits. ‘I’m supposed to be going on a diet.’

‘You don’t need to diet,’ she scoffs as I hand the packet back to her. ‘Here, have another,’ she urges, waving it in my direction again. I comply.

Isn’t that what brides-to-be do? Go on diets? I open my mouth with a sudden impulse to tell Nicola I’m engaged, but shut it again. Maybe later.

Richard and I barely spoke to each other for the rest of the reception, but this morning when we woke up, he pulled me into his arms and tenderly kissed me on the forehead.

‘I love you,’ he said. ‘We can get married whenever you want.’

‘Thank you,’ I breathed, full of relief. ‘I love you too.’

I hope he doesn’t want to tell Sam and Molly yet. Nathan and Lucy go to Bali tomorrow for two weeks. Maybe we can postpone the announcement until after they return and the glow from their honeymoon has dimmed? I don’t want to take anything away from them.

At least, that’s my excuse and I’m sticking with it.

‘Here you go.’ Mel returns and places mugs of hot tea in front of Nicola and me. She removes her designer handbag from her stool and sits down, just as the double doors to the building whoosh open and the Editor-in-Chief of
Marbles
magazine walks in.

‘Good morning, Mr Laurence,’ Mel says silkily.

The tall, olive-skinned man in the expensive suit chuckles as he approaches the desk. ‘You know, you
can
call me Jonathan.’

‘I know,’ she replies, looking up at him through her dark lashes. ‘But Mr Laurence sounds more powerful somehow.’

He flashes her a grin and nods at Nicola and me before walking to the staircase. It’s five flights to his floor, but he never takes the lift. Nicola and I gawp open-mouthed at Mel as soon as he’s gone.

‘I can’t believe you speak to him like that!’ Nicola shakes her head in alarm, but Mel sighs dreamily.

‘He’s so sexy . . .’

‘And married,’ Nicola points out.

‘Happily?’ Mel asks, the picture of innocence.

‘That’s none of our business.’ Nicola gives Mel a warning look, but Mel clearly won’t be put off.

‘I can fantasise, can’t I?’

Nicola and Mel have worked together for four years. The girl I’m replacing on maternity leave, Debbie, has been here for five. They’re all still firm friends, but whenever they get together for rare nights out – rare because Debbie has a baby now – I’m never invited. I suppose it would be a bit weird for Debbie to go drinking with her replacement. I wonder if they gossip about me to her? Probably. She must be interested to know what I’m like. I don’t think they’d say anything nasty though. We’ve never had a tiff. I don’t speak to Mel the way Nicola does. I’m not sure I could get away with it.

‘Not many early risers today,’ Nicola comments.

‘Quiet morning?’ I ask.

‘Very.’

Nicola starts at eight o’clock, an hour earlier than us to accommodate people coming into work early. She leaves at five whereas we stay on until six. I’m usually a little early because of the time my ferry from Manly comes in. Nicola has blue eyes and long blonde hair with a slight curl to it. Mel is a green-eyed brunette, with longish, dead-straight hair. Both girls are slim and petite, slightly more so than me.

What would you think if you could see me now?

I think I look quite different. I had my dark hair cut shorter years ago and now wear it in a shiny, blunt bob with a fringe that falls just above my eyebrows. I’ve learned how to apply make-up properly and my eyes are still light brown,
obviously
. No one else has ever called them caramel. The temping jobs that I do require me to look the part, and the thought of my old self sitting here next to gorgeous girls like Nicola and Mel makes me shudder.

Nicola pulls out a nail file from under the desk and begins to file her already-perfect talons. The door whooshes open again and she quickly puts it down to flash her welcome smile at the latest employee to arrive this morning. It’s funny working here. You get to see all kinds of people. The suits tend to get in early. The creatives: late. And you don’t see a single lads’ mag bloke arrive before ten o’clock, usually looking hungover and pasty.

Three tall teenage girls wander waiflike through the doors and approach the desk.

‘We’re here for a casting,’ the one in the middle says.

‘With which magazine?’ I ask, reaching for the phone.

‘
Blinker
.’

That’s a glossy teen title.

‘Take the lift to the third floor, turn right and go through the double doors. Good luck!’

‘Thanks,’ they mumble and wander off listlessly.

‘I hate models,’ Nicola comments when they’ve gone.

‘Only because they’re younger and more beautiful than you,’ Mel teases.

‘No, because they have the personalities of a dishcloth.’

‘They’re not all like that,’ I chip in.

‘The only reason I’d want to be a model is because of the photographers,’ Nicola states.

We get a lot of male photographers through these doors, and most make Nicola go weak at the knees. Neither of my colleagues have boyfriends, but if they date they usually go for wealthy, well-dressed men (Mel) or sexy, dishevelled boys (Nicola). My Richard falls into neither category. At twenty-eight he’s two years older than me and seems strangely unlike a man or a boy. I guess I’d call him a man if pushed, but . . .

Twenty-eight is how old you were when I met you
.

I can’t believe I’ve never thought of that before. Ben seemed older somehow. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe it was me.
I
seemed younger. I thought I was so mature at the time. Looking back, how wrong I was.

But I did love him. I still do.

That’s the scary thing about unrequited relationships – there’s no line you can draw underneath them. The love just keeps on living, bubbling away below the surface.

I wonder what you look like now? You’d be thirty-eight. Is that old? I don’t know.

‘What are you thinking about?’ Mel breaks into my thoughts.

‘Nothing,’ I blurt out.

‘You looked all mysterious there for a minute.’

I smile and raise one eyebrow, trying to act the part.

‘Tell us,’ she urges.

‘I was thinking,’ I start – she’s all ears – ‘about whether I should go for tomato and basil or carrot and coriander today.’

Mel’s expectant smile slips into a look of irritation.

‘Tomato and basil,’ Nicola interjects. ‘Although they did have leek and potato yesterday.’

‘No way!’ I say. ‘I can’t believe I missed out on a leek and potato day.’

The three of us have practically lived on soup all summer. This trendy soup kitchen opened up around the corner a few months ago and the concoctions are so tasty we’ve become addicted despite the heat. Summer’s almost over now and the weatherman is predicting a wet and chilly autumn, so I hope we haven’t out-souped ourselves because a hot lunch should go down a treat when the temperature dips.

‘Nice little change of subject there, Lily.’ Mel gives me a sly look and I flash her an innocent one.

I don’t usually think about Ben during the day. I’ve learned quite a lot of self-restraint over the years and try not to think about him at all. Sometimes I wonder if I could have done things differently. I still cringe when I remember how I practically threw myself at him on his last night. As if he would have had sex with me! I shudder at the memory.

‘Seriously, what
are
you thinking about?’ Mel again.

‘I’m cold,’ I say. ‘I hope I’m not coming down with something.’

‘Swine flu,’ Nicola states. ‘Are you feeling achy all over?’

‘No.’

‘Shivery?’

‘Not really,’ I admit.

‘Headache?’

‘Yes. Actually I’m probably just hungover.’

‘Have another Tim Tam,’ Nicola offers.

‘Thanks.’

I can’t blame Mel for latching onto my expression. Gossip plays a big part of our lives. How could it not, when we’re sitting here without a manager to oversee us every second of the day. Strictly speaking, Nicola is supposed to be in charge. She’s the most senior of us. But that’s almost laughable. She’s the biggest gossip of the lot.

I have nothing to be ashamed about, I remind myself.
I know you loved me too. And now I must stop thinking about you.

‘Plans for the weekend?’ Nicola asks towards the end of the day.

‘I’ve got my friend coming over from Brisbane,’ Mel says. ‘Shopping tomorrow daytime, followed by dinner in the city, bar crawl then a club. We seriously need to pick up some men. You?’

‘Going to see my mum,’ Nicola says. ‘And Sunday’s supposed to be hot so a group of us are going to the beach for a picnic.’

‘I should go and see
my
mum, actually,’ I state.

‘Has she got a new boyfriend yet?’ Nicola asks.

‘Not since she found out that Jeremy was banging his secretary.’

‘Ouch,’ Mel interjects.

‘Your mum has been so unlucky in love,’ Nicola comments.

‘On the contrary. She’s been incredibly lucky, but the good guys – like Michael – never stand a chance.’

‘When’s the gorgeous Josh coming over?’ Nicola asks excitedly.

These two know everything about my life in Australia to date. Well, not
everything
. But like I said, gossip is practically in our job descriptions. Anyway, Josh emailed me a few weeks ago with a picture of himself standing next to a car he’d done up. Nicola almost fell off her stool when she saw him.

‘Easter weekend.’ I grin.

‘What are you planning to do with him?’ she asks.

‘Big night out. You can come if you like.’

‘Seriously?’ Nicola is already reaching for her diary.

‘Can I come too?’ Mel asks.

‘Sure!’ I’m pleasantly surprised they’d both want to. We don’t usually catch up on weekends, let alone holiday weekends. But a night out with a bunch of us would be fun. And I’d like to introduce Nicola and Mel to Molly and Lucy. Although saying that, Lucy will have just got back from her honeymoon. And Molly and Sam might not want to pay for a sitter so they can come out with me and my one-time-almost-stepbrother for the night. I’ll ask Richard what he thinks later.

‘I hope he looks as sexy in real life as he does in pictures,’ Nicola says wistfully.

I give her a pointed look. ‘Can I remind you that he has a girlfriend?’

‘I can admire him from a distance, can’t I? And anyway, his girlfriend isn’t coming, is she?’