Me, You and Tiramisu. Charlotte Butterfield
above the deli.’
‘I love Richmond!’ Jayne gushed, ‘So you’ve been a couple of miles away from us all this time.’
‘Indeed.’ Will’s eyes twinkled, ‘I can’t believe you guys are here – this is awesome.’ The three of them sat in an easy silence, the kind that only happens when you’re with people who know each other really well, and even though almost two decades had passed since their last moment of amiable peace, it didn’t appear to matter at all.
They were still reminiscing and laughing long after their plates of tiramisu and coffees had been finished. The waiters started upending chairs on all the empty tables around them. The message couldn’t have been less overt had the staff all come out in their pyjamas.
‘I think that’s our cue. Subtle, aren’t they?’ Rachel said, thanking Will as he gallantly helped her back into her faux fur.
‘So, do you live near here? I can walk you back if you like?’
Jayne quickly replied, ‘that would be great,’ trying to sound as nonchalant as a bottle and a half of thirteen per cent wine would allow, at the exact moment Rachel replied, ‘No thanks, we’ll be fine.’ Sensing the eagerness, bordering on desperation, in her sister’s voice, Rachel then countered, ‘I mean, if it’s not too much trouble …’
Jayne knew she’d said it before, and no doubt would do again, but as the three of them linked arms and started weaving drunkenly towards the door, she made a telepathic pledge to work really hard to stop all wars and be the catalyst for bringing about world peace if God could just manage to make Will fall in love with her. Again.
She felt a bit guilty about asking Him for an escape route out of singledom when there were refugees and victims of human trafficking and lepers in the world. Were there still lepers in the world? Jayne drunkenly wondered as they reached the Thai takeaway they lived above. Rachel started fumbling with her keys in the lock when Will leaned forward and said quietly in Jayne’s ear, ‘I’d really like to see you again.’
Deliberately misunderstanding, to protect herself from looking stupid Jayne replied, ‘That would be great, I’ll check with Rachel when’s good for her and let you know.’ Rachel’s back stayed resolutely facing them, even though she’d already turned the key in the lock.
Will, slightly chastened, swayed from foot to foot, ‘Um, obviously I want to hang out with both of you sometime, but I actually meant just you. By yourself. With me.’
‘Oh. Cool. Um, yes, that would be fine. I mean great. That would be wonderful. I’m free tomorrow.’ She checked her watch and saw that it was after midnight, ‘I mean today, tonight. Oh Jesus, does that make me sound really desperate? I mean I usually do have a really packed rock’n’roll schedule, but as luck would have it I’ve just had a cancellation,’ she grinned sheepishly. ‘And now I’m talking too much. You can retract your invitation at any time and I absolutely will not be offended.’
He smiled and ducked his head so his lips brushed her cheek ‘Tonight sounds awesome. There’s a little wine bar in Richmond called Magnum’s, do you know it? How about we meet there at eight?’
Will was barely out of earshot when Rachel spun round on the doorstep screaming. ‘O.M.G. He asked you out! You’re going on a date with him! This is beyond brilliant!’ Her eyes suddenly grew wide in horror, ‘Oh God. You have absolutely nothing to wear. If only we were the same size, that new DVF shirtdress I bought last week would be perfect. Right. I’m meant to be doing Zumba with Marco but I’ll tell him we’re spending the day finding you something gorgeous, he’ll understand.’ She started typing furiously on her phone, ‘I’ll tell him to meet us at Selfridges at ten.’
‘Ten? A.m.? On a Saturday? Seriously Rachel, I’ve got clothes, it’s not as though I walk around with nothing on all day every day, I’ll dig something out.’
‘Dig something out? Please tell me you didn’t just say that you would ‘dig something out’ for possibly the most important date you’ve ever had or ever likely to have? Jesus, Jayne, can you start taking this seriously?’
It had always been the same. When they were little Rachel used to lay out Jayne’s clothes for her each morning to take away the risk of her making a huge sartorial error. Even Rachel’s school uniform had been customised to the point of bearing little resemblance to its original incarnation. Her skirt had given two fingers to the school regulation of knee-length and she’d even cut her tie in half all the way down before carefully hemming it. Jayne had commented at the time that she’d looked like a country-and-western singer, but like Rachel had swiftly retorted, ‘It’s called fashion, Jayne. You wouldn’t understand.’ Which was true. It wasn’t that she didn’t care how she looked, but she’d always placed function above form in life, and warmth and comfort received greater prioritisation than colour or shape.
Jayne sighed. Resistance was futile. ‘Fine, if it’s so important to you to take me shopping and do a Gok, then okay, I will allow you and Marco to guide me through the maze of Selfridges, but if either of you make any attempt to manhandle me into dresses or make any reference to my ‘bangers’, I’m walking out and you can get another hobby.’
‘Deal.’ Her phone pinged. I’m there like a bear. Mxx
Dear Lord, what had she let herself in for? Thankfully Jayne had had a lifetime of dealing with Rachel, and Marco was the exact replica of her, right down to their shared love of the naked male anatomy. They’d felt a gravitational pull towards each other during design college somewhere between the module on concealing air-conditioning vents and the importance of layering textures in your soft furnishings. Back then he was called Mark, before the run-of-the-mill ‘k’ was dropped in favour of the most exotic ‘co’.
Learning the art of making friends at the age of nineteen was a new one for both of the sisters but Rachel, with her chemically straightened afro cut into an angular black bob, heavily rimmed kohl eyes and a scowl that said, ‘what the hell do you want?’ permanently inked on her face, found it harder.
Jayne had tried to get her to smile encouragingly or even just tone down the stare that said: ‘I could kill you with one sarcastic put-down’. Rachel had howled with mirth when Jayne suggested that ‘a stranger was just a friend she hadn’t met yet’, which made her silently vow to stop reading the slogans on t-shirts and memorising them for future repetition. Rachel wasn’t being deliberately rude or obtuse, though, the truth was she was just fiercely independent. Their upbringing had turned Jayne into an apologetic people-pleaser and given Rachel an almost impenetrable body armour.
Jayne had also spent most of her university life with her nose touching her textbooks, but for her it was borne partly out of love for her subject and more than she would ever admit because it was the first time she wasn’t in the same class as Rachel. They’d never had to experience that moment where you walk into a new classroom and have to do the dreaded scan to see where the empty places were and who looked the least-offensive person to sit by, because they’d always been greeted by the other one with one hand in the air waving and the other firmly planted on the seat next to them, mouthing ‘saved’ at anyone that dared to attempt to sit down.
Everyone always assumed that being a twin meant that you had this invisible bubble sealed around you that repelled and reflected any outside interference, and this was sort of true, it does take a very special kind of person to see a crack and squeeze into it, and boy, was Mark/co persistent. When Rachel called her sister excitedly on her way home one day in her second term to say that she’d met this guy called Mark and they were going to see one of his friends play in a band that night at a random bar in Clapham, Jayne couldn’t have been more surprised. Nice surprised. Not a little bit jealous in the least. Nope, not her. Good on Rachel. And Mark. She had hoped they were very happy together.
Thankfully this level of ‘nicely surprised’ soon