Chapter Sixteen
Despite the constant shadow of guilt at my lies, the worry that the real lifesaving woman will reveal herself, and trying to dodge Henry’s very tempting romantic advances, the next couple of weeks are the best I’ve had in a long time. It’s like someone (Henry) has waved a magic wand and given me the life I dreamed of when I was staring out of the attic window of my Bristol bedroom and longing for something new and exciting in Notting Hill. I’ve managed to ward Henry off trying to kiss me without hurting his feelings by eating a lot of oniony flavoured foods, having various ‘ailments’, not always wearing deodorant when I’m around him, and telling him that I am still recovering from an old heartbreak. I’m not sure he’s handling it well however, because he features me on his social media all the time and talks about me online and in his YouTube videos as if I am his girlfriend. It’s okay, though, because, with my new clientele, I’ve actually managed to pay Mr Hemmings back everything I owe him and am now saving up for the security deposit and first month’s rent on a place of my own.
After our video, the interest in him starts to climb up at a rapid pace and he starts booking tons of poetry performance gigs. I go to some of them with him and while I don’t really understand what he’s doing, I can see that people love him. And I’m more than happy to smile for the selfies he uploads to Instagram, captioning then with things like ‘My darling hero Bess, supporting my art’ and ‘Date night with Bess!’
It’s quite odd, slightly delusional behaviour, but he clearly isn’t used to women not immediately succumbing to his charms and I figure it’s best to let him process that however he needs to. I’m trying to protect his heart, is all. Frankly, it’s the least I can do for him after all he’s done for me. When I’m not accompanying Henry to his gigs around London I’m managing what is turning out to be a flourishing freelance business as a personal trainer. My clients are varied, all with different needs, abilities and budgets. It means that every session is interesting and rewarding. I am loving it. And to top all of this goodness off, yesterday I even went back to my old house to finally pay Mr Hemmings what I owed him.
Outside of work, gigs and making lists of potential flats I might be able to rent, I’ve found myself hanging out with Auguste a fair amount. At first, he seemed a bit peeved that I always seemed to be in the kitchen whenever he was in the kitchen, but I overcame his reticence to being my friend with my positive can-do attitude. Now, I’ve managed to get him to come out of his shell a little bit and while he doesn’t have Henry’s energy and charm, he’s really cool to hang out with.
‘Cutting and splicing, yo, yo. I’mma cutting and splicing. So interesting! Very, very interestiiiiiing!’ Auguste is humming to himself right now as we sit at the kitchen table, me drinking a big mug of tea and him editing Henry’s most recent video. His accent makes the weird little song he’s singing sound even more ridiculous. I tell him this and he throws me a faux dirty look in response. I can tell that he finds this kind of video editing a little bit boring, the same old splicing together that he does every time, rummaging through different takes of Henry saying the exact same thing again and again with slightly different intonations, just to find the perfect one. So while he edits we natter and pretty soon, we’re talking about about our reasons for coming to London. It turns out that Auguste has a similar reason to me for moving here. He’s from a small village in the south of France and his family is in the business of making this luxurious artisanal Lavender Honey. They wanted him to join the business but all he’s ever wanted to do since he was small was make movies.
‘I wonder how many people in London are just people escaping the life that their parents want them to live?’ I say thoughtfully. ‘There must be loads of us.’
‘Whoever they are I hope they are getting what they want,’ Auguste replies, his hands flying over the keyboard. ‘You have to live in your own guts.’
‘Ew, what?’ I pull a face. ‘Live in your own guts?’
‘Live in your own guts… Am I saying the expression wrong?’
‘I think so… Do you mean, like, have the guts to live your own life?’
‘Yes, yes. That is what I mean.’
I nod, relieved. ‘But it’s tough to do that!’ I muse, taking a sip of tea and thinking about the guilt I have over leaving my family behind. How feeling like wanting a different life to my parents makes me an awful person.
‘I don’t want to be an awful person,’ I say.
‘Maybe you just cannot help it,’ Auguste says, deadpan. I think he’s gotten his words mixed up but I see from his twinkling eyes that he’s winding me up. I elbow him in the ribs and he responds by pulling me into a headlock. I gasp in surprise and wriggle to get out of it, yelling at him to let me go ‘or else’. As I’m laughing and scrambling to get out of the headlock, Henry bounds in from his gig, his cheeks red and his eyes glittering. Auguste quickly releases me and I stand up from the kitchen table, brushing my hair back down.
‘My dear ones!’ Henry says, either not seeing or caring about Auguste and my play fighting. ‘The most amazing thing just happened!’
‘Ooh what is it?’ I ask, heading into the kitchen area to put the kettle on for him.
‘A manager came to see me at the gig!’
‘A manager?’
‘An influencer management company. The top ones. They represent all of the best YouTubers and Instagrammers. They want to sign me!’
‘Oh wow!’ I gasp. ‘That’s brilliant.’
‘Congratulations, man!’ Auguste says, getting up from the table to shake Henry’s hand.
‘Yeah,’ Henry says, running his fingers through his hair and bouncing on the spot a little. ‘I’ve been trying to get a manager for such a long time and Elissa – that’s the Head of Talent at the company – said her friend sent her the video of you and I finding each other.’ Henry grabs my hands. ‘She was so taken by the story that she watched the rest of my content and thought that I had a great presence to expand into radio work or maybe even TV presenting!’
‘That’s amazing!’ I say, letting Henry pull me into a hug and feeling for the first time, that my lie wasn’t entirely selfish. Something good for someone else has come from it too now!
‘You are my lucky charm,’ Henry whispers into my ear.
‘Aw thanks!’ I say, in the most platonic way I can manage. And then I laugh, the most unattractive, snorty laugh I can do in a bid to help him to find me less attractive. Auguste gives me aWhat are you doing?look, but Henry doesn’t even seem to notice my weird laugh.
‘Come on!’ he says, clapping his hands together. ‘The stars are bright and the snow is fresh. Let’s go and make snow angels to celebrate!’
I grimace. ‘It’s freezing out there!’
‘Yes, I am happy to stay here in the warm air,’ Auguste responds, turning back to his laptop and clicking away on the mouse.
‘Please!’ Henry says, his lovely eyes hopeful.
