Sadly, as fast as she shed her chub I gained it. These days Plum is Topshop skinny but I’m Bravissimo all the way. While some of us struggle to zip up our large size 14s, her skimpy size 8s billow in the wind. But even if she looks every inch the hungry artist, in reality she’s anything but. The gallery we’re in now was a disused chandlery until Plum got her hands on it soon after leaving art college. She stripped it out to use as a studio, and over the years has turned it into a thriving business selling pieces for other artists as well as herself. Although, obviously, it doesn’t quite have the multi-million turnover of Sophie May.
After a swift glance round the lofty white room and the six-foot-high seascapes, Plum turns back to me. ‘A quick warning now the local crowd’s arriving. Word on the street is you’re back to move into a penthouse, Clemmie.’ There’s a mischievous glint in her eye. ‘Most people’s money is on the snazzy new apartments at Rock Quay.’
If you want to keep your life private, don’t come to St Aidan. Although I’ve timed my trip to catch Sophie’s launch party, my main reason for returning is because the sitting tenant’s moved out of the flat I inherited by default years ago. But even if I’d got my hands on a mansion, I’d still have no intention of sticking around.
I can’t help my grin at how wrong the St Aidan grapevine is. ‘It’s more of an ancient attic from what I remember. And believe me, I won’t be here for long.’
Plum winds a strand of hair around her fingers. ‘Bangkok still buzzing? Or is it Stockholm? Or was that Prague?’
I can’t blame her for not keeping up. ‘It’s actually Paris and it’s great, thanks – for now.’ There’s no point saying any more. Plum, Sophie and Nell are so in love with St Aidan’s jumble of pastel coloured cottages clinging to the hillside, they couldn’t exist anywhere else. They’re all as settled as I am rootless. They can’t imagine living without the echo of the waves rushing up the beach, and the familiar clink of the rigging on the boats bobbing in the harbour. If I explained non-stop for a month, they’d never get that for me St Aidan isn’t enough. That after half a day away from Paris, I’m aching for the broad boulevards and big elegant buildings and the round-the-clock roar of the traffic. They don’t get that the world beyond here is huge. And they totally miss that when Paris dulls I’ll move on and feel the thrill all over again somewhere new. Even though my jobs are what they call ‘shit’ ones, and my career trajectory is non-existent, at least they allow me to move. To be free.
Nell comes in for the last macaroon. ‘So what are you doing this time?’ She’s a hot shot accountant, who admits the lure of her job is the salary not the excitement. So, she’s always up for hearing my more outlandish work stories.
I start to take a deep breath but stop halfway. In the five years since Sophie’s wedding, my dress must have shrunk in the wardrobe. A lot. ‘At the moment, I run errands for Maude, who teaches at the Sorbonne. I open her jars of fish soup. Buy her artichokes from the market. Top up her Post-it note supplies. Check she hasn’t got lettuce stuck in her teeth when she leaves the flat. Stuff like that. She’s addicted to tea and needs Liptons on the hour. And a Porn Star Martini on the dot of five.’ I worked my way round the world doing bar work, but lately I’ve progressed to personal assistant positions. And this one sounds a lot more awful than it is. There’s time to dash out between brews. I get Friday afternoons off when Maude goes to her masseuse. Best of all, the job comes with a room and a view. When I stand on tiptoe and wrench my neck I can see the Eiffel Tower from my window. You’ve no idea how magical it is to look out at that shadow of crisscross of pencil lines in the day, the trace of pin prick lights in the dark.
‘Even better, I’ve got a few weeks paid leave while she’s away on a research trip, which is why I’ve made my dash to Cornwall now.’ I’m beaming because this is the first holiday pay I’ve ever got my hands on. The circle of faces is much less impressed than I’d anticipated. I don’t quite get why, but I’m staring at a mix of puzzlement and despair.
When Nell breaks the silence, she’s sounding bright and the subject change is jarring. ‘Well, the good news here is our St Aidan’s Singles scene is buzzing, so it’s great you’ll be around for that. We’re doing Strictly Single Tea Dances at the Harbourside Hotel, Scare Yourself Shitless Ghost Walks, Under the Table Gin Tasting at the Hungry Shark, and our Whale Watching Weekend boat trips around the bay are always brilliant.’ That’s the other thing about Nell. Since her break-up a couple of years ago she’s thrown herself into the Singles’ Club.
How things change when you’re gone. ‘There are whales in the bay?’
Nell’s brow furrows. ‘Not exactly. But the trips are proving better than Loctite as far as couples go.’ The only problem is, she’s so immersed in organising everyone else, so far she’s failed to grab a man for herself. She lets out a low laugh. ‘Leave it to me, we’ll give you a reason to stay in St Aidan, Clemmie.’
What was I saying? My appalled gasp is so huge and unchecked, this time I almost do split my dress. ‘Hold it there. Count me out ofanycouply activities. I’m a hundred per centNOT here to hook up.’ The life I live is just for me and I don’t need complications. The few guys I went out with at college were all more effort than fun. Which doesn’t mean I don’t have loads of friends, a lot of whom are guys. In fact, as more people are arriving, I’m bobbing up and down non-stop waving at people over Sophie’s shoulder.
Nell’s not going to be put off. ‘Fine, skip the singles’ events. But there are some really nice, genuine guys in our group. It can’t hurt to introduce you … to one or two?’
If I thought dressing up as a mermaid was bad this is worse. I put up my hand. The one thing I’ve learned in Paris is if you want respect, good service, and halfway decent artichokes, there’s no point coming over all nice and friendly. It’s the ‘don’t mess with me’ ‘mean bitch’ expressions that get the un-burned baguettes. I scrunch my face into my best French scowl. ‘No activities, no introductions, is that clear?’ I don’t wait for a reply. Apart from anything else, I’m bursting for a pee. Not that I’d planned to use the loos tonight given how thoroughly we did up the tail ties. But those mismatched tea cups hold more than you’d think. ‘And now I’m off to the Ladies’.’ As I grin at Nell to show her there’s no bad feeling so long as she’s got the message, I notice her mermaid shell crown is completely skew whiff. Looks like I’m not the only one who’s over done the fruit cup. I turn around, throw my foot forward to stride purposefully away, hit my tail tie, then begin to topple.
‘Whoops, steady there!’ Sophie and Plum catch one arm each and gently ease me upwards until I find my balance point.
Plum’s scratching at the seaweed dangling from her pearl head band. ‘Maybe next time we do this, we needelasticrope around our ankles?’ For an artist, she’s very analytical.
I can’t believe what I’m hearing as I set off again. ‘There’s going to be anexttime?’
When I reach the loo, it turns out my fears about finding my pants are completely right. Put it this way – real mermaids are damned lucky they can pee in the sea. I have so much tulle and fish net to untangle before I can go, and I don’t put half enough effort into getting it back into the right place again. As I shuffle back into the gallery my tail’s as saggy as if I’ve collided with one of those heaps of abandoned nets down by the harbour. I feel more like aStrictlydancer who got caught in a wind tunnel than a silver-tailed siren as I press myself against the rough white-washed wall as a group of guys pass, all waving their tea cups in appreciation of Plum and Nell’s costumes.
Despite my firm stand, as I arrive back, Nell’s providing me with a running commentary of everyone in trousers I don’t already know. ‘That was Blue Watch, arriving from the fire station. And I’m sorry but the total hottie in the suit by the Cleanse and Polish stand is someone I don’t know.’ She sends Sophie a querying glance.
Sophie scans the crowd. ‘Hot and then some. I think he’s something to do with some property consortium.’
‘And?’ Nell’s waiting expectantly. ‘The least you can do for a jawline like that is check the guest list.’
Plum and Sophie both start peering at their phones, but Plum’s first to look up.
‘Got him. At a guess that’s Charlie Hobson, he’s down here as “local developer”.’
Nell’s got a gleam in her eye. ‘I may have to Google him on behalf of the singles’ group. Whale Watching would pass a whole lot quicker with that kind of dark charisma in the bows.’
‘Dark being the important word there.’ However much he looks like he strode straight off the pages ofGQmagazine, as expressions go, objectionable doesn’t begin to cover it. If I was at sea with that particular long face I’d have to jump ship.
Sophie shakes her head at me. ‘And the big blond man by the door is George Trenowden, our legal whizz. He’s single but as he’s your solicitor too, I take it you won’t throw a wobbly if I introduce you once the crowds thin out.’
I ignore the jibe because it will be useful to meet him after years of only communicating by letter. ‘Great, I’m seeing him about the flat first thing tomorrow.’ Although I couldn’t feel less enthusiastic about that.
Sophie laughs. ‘No need to look so worried, he gave up eating mermaids years ago.’ Her brow wrinkles. ‘Do you want me to come with you to hold your hand?’
I can’t think of anything better, but I didn’t like to ask. ‘Aren’t you busy?’
