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‘Howdid you get all this furniture here?’
‘Irented a van.’Hedabbed his brow with a small towel.
‘Whydidn’t you just borrowConnor’s?’
‘Yeah…um. “Sorry,Connor,IknowI’vejust left you in the shit by announcing thatI’mquitting, but do you mind ifIborrow your van soIcan furnish my new office?”’
‘Pointmade.Butstill, are youDrStrange?Didyou bend space and time to get this all done?Haveyou slept?’Shejust couldn’t believe that he had done all this, for her.Lancelotto the rescue.
‘Oh,Jesshelped me.Shepainted the walls and built all the desks in there.’
Francescabit the inside of her lip and nodded, her grin slipping.Shequickly fixed it back on her face before he could notice.Theother, faceless woman felt like a presence in the room.IfFrancescahad ultra-violet eyesight, she imagined she’d seeJess’sfingerprints everywhere, even onFrancesca’sthings.Shewiped her hand across her keyboard, as though that would clean off any ofJess’sDNA. ‘Well…thanks.’
Shecarefully emptied the contents of her bag onto her new desk, plugging the extra monitors into her laptop and setting up the drive reader for her back-ups.Krishleaned on the doorway.
‘Goodweekend?’ he asked and sipped from his bottle.
Thewedding she had shot onSaturdayhad only lasted a few hours, a small affair, which was lucky for her because her uterus had not been in the mood.Eachsecond felt like an hour when her endometriosis flared up, the unwelcome wedding guest.She’dalready used co-codamol for four days that month, which was her self-imposed limit so she didn’t get the unwanted side effects.She’dhad to rely on ibuprofen, which generally wouldn’t dull the discomfort of a paper cut, much less stabbing pain.Ithad been one of those days.She’dstayed in bed for the rest of the weekend. ‘Goodenough.’
Hewas silent for a second, as though searching for something to talk about. ‘How’sthe family?’
Laughing, she said, ‘Stillcrazy.Stillover-achieving.’Herparents, ironically namedMaryandJoseph, had met competing forGreatBritainin rowing at the 1976Olympics.Herfather won silver while her mother placed eighth in theWomen’sCoxedFour—it was the first year women competed.Herdad’s silver medal sat in pride of place in their house, along with all the medals earned by variousMarchesthroughout the years.ExceptFrancesca.Shedidn’t have any medals.
‘Areyour parents still living inSpain?Seville, was it?’
‘Yup.’TheHolyCouplehad emigrated toSpainthe momentFrancescacompletedSixthForm, as though their parenting tenure had come to an end, leavingFrancescato fend for herself.Hertwo brothers were in medical school at the time and her sister was halfway through law school.Francescadidn’t go to university.
Shedidn’t want to talk about her family.Evenfrom miles away, they made her feel inadequate. ‘How’syour sister?’Whenthey were dating, she’d gotten on well with his sister,Ankita.
‘Pregnant, actually.Thirtyweeks.’Abig smile spread across his face andFrancescahad to purse her lips to keep her chin from quivering.
He’dalways wanted kids.He’dmentioned it within weeks of them starting to date.Ifanyone in the world was meant to have children, it wasKrish.She’dwatched him interacting with them in the wild: in parks, or restaurants, or even just walking down the street.Healways squatted down to their level to chat with them, like they each deserved to be treated like intelligent mini-humans.Childrengravitated towards him, as though they sensed his innate goodness.Kidswere excellent judges of character.Theynever came nearFrancesca.
Ankita’sbaby would be lucky to callKrishuncle.
‘Wow, give her my congratulations.’Movingher bag off her chair and sitting down, she said, ‘Well, um,lobster stew, as they say.’Theybeing a producer on a film she’d worked on briefly who had said it constantly on set. ‘Comeon, everybody!Lobsterstew!’, which meantlots to do!Heinsisted it was lingo he’d learnt on the set of a majorHollywoodfilm.Yeah, lingo fortwat.Shewasn’t sure why she’d repeated it.IguessI’ma twat, too.
‘Well, let me know if you need anything.I’mjust going to…keep building stuff.’
‘Ican help if you need me to…’
‘Nah,I’mgood.’
‘Buildit and they will come,’ she quoted randomly, before putting her headphones on and diving back into the nauseating world of other people’s happiness.
ByThursday,Krishhad built and painted the partition, and real furniture now sat where the masking tape outlines had once lived.Someof his favourite shots ofSouthAsianbrides and grooms hung on the walls, the high gloss of the acrylic giving them a luxurious feel.Nowhe just needed some potential clients to dazzle into booking him.
Hiswebsite was already up and running.He’dbeen working on it for months with a designer who specialised in sites for photographers.Itlooked pretty amazing, if he did say so himself.Ablack background with bright splashes of colour captured that luxury feeling he wanted.Onthe first page, there was a slideshow of hero shots ofAsiancouples.Bam!Visually, it saidKrishKapadiais fucking awesome.Bookhim now.Theonly problem was thatKapadiaPhoto&Videolacked half that capability: he didn’t have a videographer on his books.Althoughhe was in initial talks with a few people, nobody’sCVleapt out at him.
Andthe one currently sharing his office was a no-go—even though he thought she was the most talented of the lot.
Asusual, the thought ofFrancescabrought up conflicting emotions.Hewas happy to be helping her out, but felt guilty at the same time.
He’dalready told two lies.
One, to his sister, whom he spoke with on his way to work that morning.Ifhe had mentioned thatFrancesca(or asAnkitareferred to her,TheSuccubusofJoy) was taking temporary sanctuary in his office,Ankitawould probably be so angry that her baby would pop out.Despitethe fact thatAnkitaandFrancescahad gotten on well when he was dating her, his sister had lived through the aftermath of ‘FuckingNorman’ and would not welcomeFrancescaback with open arms.
Thesecond lie he’d told had been over the weekend, while he andJessreadied the office.She’dasked about his friend,Francesca.Hehadn’t exactlyliedabout who she was; he justomittedsome of the story.Francescawas simply an old friend in need, not the woman who’d broken his heart five years ago.Krishhad never toldJessthe whole saga ofFrancesca.Whenhe’d metJess,Francescawas three years in his past.Likecuring hiccups, everybody had an opinion on what to do to get over heartbreak.Sleeparound.Goout and party.Travelthe world.Workout.Forhim, time and relegating her to his past had done the trick.Whenhe metJess, he’d closed a door and moved on.
