Eva has set up a little café in the corner, allowing people a single Hobnob unless they make a donation to the mental health charity we have linked with. ‘Unlimited coffee and biscuits two pounds,’ she announces, her entrepreneurial spirit kicking in.
‘What if I don’t want unlimited biscuits?’ says a man I’ve seen hanging around outside the library.
‘One pound unlimited coffee plus two biscuits. Check pockets at end.’
The star of the show is the lunchtime panel. When things started to go pear-shaped yesterday I caved and pulled in Vince. He’s joining a man who has fascinating conversations with his inner therapist, as well as a colour breathing expert. My last guest is the journalist Aurora Storyalis who I reached out to last night. Surprisingly, she jumped on the chance to come.
I do a walkabout for Facebook and record a couple of clips for Insta and TikTok, introducing the stallholders to my audience. Sapphire has brought a python in a special snake carrier, and I introduce that too. She lifts it out of the case and drapes it around her neck and I wonder if the hall might be too cold for it. ‘Someone wants to know what it eats,’ I relay.
Sapphire reaches into a box for a little packet, rips it open and empties a bedraggled furry creature into her hand. ‘I thought I’d save it for today.’ She frowns, pressing her thumb on the mouse’s belly. ‘Proper defrosted now. I buy them frozen. Keep them with the bread in my freezer.’
‘Next to the owl ice cream?’ I joke. She frowns again, as though trying to work out if that’s a new flavour of Ben & Jerry’s. Then she gives the mouse to the snake. ‘He doesn’t like an audience when he eats,’ she says, nodding at me to trot on.
Eva brings me a cup of tea in the type of blue china only community centres are permitted to purchase. I point towards the snake. ‘We should set up a pet therapy stall.’
‘Good idea,’ she says, ‘but price for Doodle high.’
‘Oh, I wasn’t thinking of Doodle. But I do miss that crazy dog. Can we rent him again?’
‘Good news. Lily selling.’
‘Oh! Great. I’ll buy him.’
She shakes her head. ‘Dog cost three thousand pounds.’
‘Forget it.’ But even as I say it the idea of never taking Doodle for a walk again or having him slobber all over my ankles unexpectedly floors me. Also, he’s the star of my increasingly popular column. ‘Can you text and ask her if she’ll take a thousand?’
‘Daisy, need to say something else. About sharing flat,’ Eva says, as she searches up her contact.
‘Why don’t we discuss it later? And talk about Christmas dinner. I’ll need to buy the turkey. Let’s hope I get Tony. That’d be karma.’
She quickly exchanges a text with Doodle’s owner. ‘Two thousand five hundred. Would do same in her boots. She has power because you bond with him. Extra power because you make him column-famous.’
A woman with red hair and a dark green leather jacket swoops into the room. I recognise her from her profile.
‘Aurora?’
‘Daisy? You look different to your photograph.’
‘So do you. More colourful.’ And older.
‘And you are a rainbow. Like your philosophies. A little bit of every shade of psychology, splashed across the internet …’ I giggle, unsure if she is giving me a compliment ‘… promoting a pot of gold at the end of each meme or reel.’ Now I know she’s not.
‘Cup of tea and limited biscuit?’ Eva pushes a blue china cup at her along with a shortbread.
‘Do you mean limited edition?’
‘She means limited. One Jaffa Cake unless you trade it for two fruit shortcakes.’ There’s a commotion at the door and we all look up as Vince blasts in like a landmine. He stands at the door scanning for the most important person in the room before he remembers it’s him. He catches my eye, lifts up an arm and sniffs the pit, silently voicing the word ‘awesome’. I laugh, and excuse myself. Aurora can save her barbed comments for the panel.
I put Vince’s picture on my social media channels this morning and I reckon he’s the reason the hall is crowded. He scatters smiles and charisma at the people of Shepherd’s Bush as he strides towards me and wraps me in his arms. This is a different Vince, a man free of shadows.
Eva hands him a cup filled with stewed tea and two custard creams that will undoubtedly leave an aftertaste. I mouth the words chocolate digestives at her and point at Aurora and Vince to mark them out as special guests.
She nods reverently. ‘Bendy actor second most important VIP today.’ Vince and I exchange a raised eyebrow– if there’s someone with more star quality on the guest list I’ve not issued the invitation.
Half an hour later I hop on the mic and ask people to take their seats in the rows of squeaky chairs the caretaker helped me arrange at the rear of the hall. The impromptu stage is furnished by two chaise longues and an office chair. As the presenter of the event, I’ll look like middle management auditioning people for a production ofLady Windermere’s Fan.
I ask each panel member to introduce themself with their name, job title and a colour that sums them up. The colour therapist is a quietly spoken woman who packs her job description with unusual metaphors and announces she is Sunny Delight yellow.
