HONEST, HONEST
“Flippin’ hell,” Jamie exclaimed as the carefully filled biscuit tray of brownie mixture slipped from her fingers and onto the kitchen floor. “Shit,” followed, as lovely chocolate splurge cascaded all over immaculate limestone tiles. “Bloody Kate,” was also uttered as she mopped up the mess; after all, it had been Kate’s fault that she was baking in the first place. Kate was the one who’d inspired her to try, making it look so effortless when she’d gone to stay with them in Mallorca, whilst juggling huge family dinners all at the same time. Damn bloody Nigella too. Jamie glanced over at the open pages of her latest tome, How To Be A Domestic Goddess, now covered in flour and chocolate chips, second only to, Raising Good Humans . How life had changed.
But it was the thought that counted, wasn’t it? Jamie wanted to try to make lunch for her mother and Madison, who were out shopping together. But surveying the mess in her normally spotless kitchen, realised she had all the culinary skills of a domestic idiot; she hadn’t even started on the main course. Glancing up at the clock on the oven, Jamie was alarmed to see there was less than an hour left before their arrival. There was just one thing for it—throw caution to the wind and risk lunch at The Brasserie again, and this time with Maria too.
* * *
“Hi Henri. Table for three, please.” Jamie smiled at the head waiter, as she pushed open the large double-frosted glass doors to The Brasserie.
“Ahh, and this must be your … sister?” Henri attempted to flirt with Maria, knowing full well she certainly was not. Jamie happily assumed Henri was referring to Madison being her sister, as was the norm, but when she realised it was her sixty-plus mother, not so happy, furrowing her brow at Henri.
“Actually … mamma, but grazie , people say we look alike. She got my good genes.” Maria flirted back coquettishly, enjoying the compliment, as she thrust back her shoulders and held her head a little higher. She was, after all, at least six inches shorter—and wider—than her daughter, on a good day.
Sitting down at one of the corner banquette tables at the far end of the room, Jamie was relieved to see the restaurant wasn’t that busy. Madison was already perusing the menu, and Jamie hoped to God they had something new on there that she might agree to eat. She really didn’t like taking her to McDonald’s.
“I’m going to miss you, Nonna.” Madison suddenly reached her hands across the round table to grab her grandmother’s, as Maria’s big brown eyes started to tear up.
“Oh bambolina , I gonna miss you too”—clutching her granddaughter's hands—“but I will come visit you, and you come visit me too. You will love Italy … all the pizza, pasta and gelato.” Maria’s face lit up, radiating pure love and warmth, and Madison couldn’t help but smile. “I will Nonna, I will.”
“Me too Mamma. Honestly. I am going to miss you, and I just wanted to say how incredibly grateful I am for everything you’ve done for us, helping me with Maddy, being there for her, for me and even your crazy ways that drove me batshit crazy so many times, but I do love you, so very very much.” Jamie reached across to grab both her mother’s and her daughter's hands in the middle of the table. All three of them were quiet. Then suddenly Jamie snatched her hands away as quickly as a Labrador scoffs down its breakfast as she fumbled for the menu.
“Don’t look,” Jamie whispered, holding up the menu in front of her face, with only her eyes peering over it. Jamie was wedged between her mother and daughter on the circular banquette table, facing directly towards the bar.
“Where?” Maria said a little too loudly for Jamie’s liking and started to scan the room in search of what she wasn’t supposed to be looking at. Jamie hunched her shoulders and crouched further forward, so that the menu covered her entire face. The waitress scurried over and planted a water bottle on the table. It was a brown glass 1942 tequila bottle. Jamie wished it was tequila. Nevertheless, a cool idea to recycle. Madison was now playing with the salt.
“Careful,” Maria said to Madison as little flecks of salt spilled out of the mill.
Madison put it down. “I really don’t like it here, there’s still nothing on the menu that I like.” Folding her arms once again in protest.
Jamie seemed impervious to the mess Madison was making and her complaints.
“Where, what … you hiding from?” Maria returned her attention to Jamie and leaned in closer, trying to figure out why her daughter was acting so strange. Jamie just shushed her and dropped her head even lower after taking one more peek over the top of the menu, towards the bar.
“Don’t look,” she commanded, as she nodded her head through the menu in the direction of the bar. “That guy over there.”
“Where?” Maria’s voice raised even louder.
“At the bar, glasses, wearing dark blue jeans and a grey jumper over an untucked white shirt,” she whispered. Nice jumper, cashmere. Weird that he’s here every time I am, does he live here? Jamie recalled how smart he’d looked in his suit the first time she’d seen him. She noticed his jeans sat snuggly over his bum that was resting on the bar stool, his back towards them. As if on cue, he swivelled round on the bar stool to reach down to retrieve something in his rucksack, Jamie clocking his original Adidas trainers, before swivelling back again without detecting the trio.
Maria finally realised who Jamie was talking about and slumped down so that she was also behind the menu. “Oooh, bello ,” lowering her voice, finally, much to Jamie’s relief.
“Stop it, Mamma,” Jamie scowled, “Please stop it, just keep quiet and he won’t notice us.”
“And no want him notice us, because?” Maria’s question hung in the air.
“He’s not my type. We’ve just texted a few times. But I didn’t answer his last text, so can you please not draw attention to us. Please?” she begged.
“Pah,” Maria exhaled. “Ragazza Stupida!” Of course not your type. He real man. Not little boy. Is Italian? Look at hair.” Maria sat back on her seat and stared directly at Karl’s back, willing him to swivel around again so she could get another look.
“His name is Karl, and he has a son the same age as Maddy, and it’s not like that,” Jamie continued to whisper, still hiding behind the menu. “And I doubt he’s Italian, Mamma,” she said feeling annoyed, although his hair did seem to have grown since the last time she’d seen him, he really did have quite the head of hair. “Anyway, that’s not the point.”
“What is il punto ?” Maria was confused.
Madison looked up. Following her grandmother’s gaze, she rested on Karl. “Ooh,” she exclaimed. “Mum, is that the guy who was here last time? Ooh, Mum, his son is super cute.” Jamie and Maria both stared at Madison.
“I thought you were too busy having a meltdown to notice?” Jamie was quick to retort.
“Oh, I noticed him.” Madison had a cheeky glint in her eye. Maria gave Jamie a look as if to say, ‘like mother, like daughter.’
“Where are you going? Sit down,” Jamie barked as quietly as barking at someone in a whisper could be achieved.
“To il bagno . What, no permesso go to il bagno? ” Maria wiggled out of the booth before Jamie had a chance to rugby tackle her back into her seat. Smoothing down her long skirt, she walked in the direction of the toilets. Jamie reached out, trying to draw her back, but just ended up swiping the air. Too late. Maria had escaped.
The entrance to the toilet was right by the bar. Jamie watched with trepidation as Maria sauntered over, praying to god that she was indeed going straight to the toilet. Maria stopped just as she reached behind Karl and turned back to look at Jamie, winked, and then much to Jamie’s complete horror, tapped Karl on the shoulder. Jamie felt her stomach sick with embarrassment as she watched Karl turn around. He’d grown facial hair too. She hated facial hair. Her first instinct was to drop to the floor under the table, but realised that would make it seem even more like she was trying to avoid him. She lowered the menu, so she was no longer hiding behind it, and pretended to study it whilst cursing her mother. She managed to nudge Madison to stop staring in Maria and Karl’s direction and pointed something out on the menu. She dared not look. She was going to kill her mother. Never had a menu been scrutinised with such intent. Finally, Maria returned … with Karl.
“Hey.” He smiled. He did have a lovely smile. Nice teeth, very white.
Then planting on one of her old agency smiles. Dazzle. Dazzle. “Hey,” Jamie said sweetly, glancing up at him briefly, desperate to avoid eye contact. She looked at the table, the 1942 tequila bottle, and then finally picked up the salt mill and started playing with it, praying that Maria wouldn’t tell her off, embarrassing her even more.
“I’ve not seen you.” His voice penetrated from afar. He didn’t sound annoyed at all.
Jamie, not usually lost for words, felt awkward. “Erm … I’m sorry, I—"
Maria interrupted her—“She been very occupata . She got a nuovo job you know”—before sitting back down in the booth, leaving Karl standing. Suddenly she started patting the seat beside her, inviting him to join them. Jamie kicked her underneath the table. “Ahia!” Maria yelped and turned to Jamie. “Why you kick me?” For heaven’s sake, did her mother really have no filter? Karl was laughing and Madison seemed rather mesmerised.
Placed in an incredibly difficult position being caught out kicking her mother, Jamie decided that honesty might be required. “Mamma, you’re embarrassing me. Just stop.” Then she turned to Karl. “I’m so sorry, but my mother is right. It has been hectic. I’m changing careers and—”
“Come sit with us,” Maria interrupted again as she shuffled along the banquette to make room. Karl slid in next to her, placing his rucksack on the floor. “I can’t stop for long. I’ve got to do some research for a job coming up next week.”
Jamie was relieved to have moved on from the awkward conversation, and somewhere in the mix, found her manners. After all, it wasn’t as if they were complete strangers.
“You sent me a text to say you wanted to chat about the book and then you disappeared?” Karl was laughing; not annoyed at all at being ignored, before taking off his glasses and wiping them with a spare serviette. Jamie noticed his eyes for the very first time. They were a kind of golden brown, similar to the tones in his hair.
Jamie couldn’t exactly say that it was her barmy friend Kate that had sent the text, so she just kept quiet and blushed.
“Honestly, it’s not a problem. It’s been pretty hectic my end too. My divorce got finalised and—”
“You divorciato ?” Maria cut in. God, could that woman not just keep a lid on it and stop interrupting everybody.
“Yes, thankfully …” He hesitated, as if processing whether he should elaborate. “I was married to a model. Terrible experience, I can tell you. She ran off with another photographer.”
Madison, who'd been uncharacteristically quiet up until that point, suddenly blurted out, “My mum’s a model.”
Karl’s smile dropped like it had just done a bungee jump off a two-hundred-foot cliff, and was it Jamie’s imagination or did he seem to back away? Jamie was startled by his reaction. Usually men became even more intrigued finding out that she was a model, she’d yet to have one back away.
Quick to defend herself. “I was a model but”—glaring now at Madison—“I’m no longer a model. Sorry about your divorce.”
Karl still seemed hesitant but then recovered. “I’m not judging, it’s just …”
Maria patted his arm and once again, much to Jamie’s embarrassment, finished his sentence, “ Bad divorciato, sì, sì , is like fire on body all over,” in her own spirited way. And Karl and Maria seemed to share a moment with both their heads, nodding up and down like a couple of those bobbleheads that sit on the dashboard of a car.
Karl shook his head and roused himself out of his reverie, turning his attention to Maria. “Yup, that about sums it up. It was like being burned alive, never to be repeated.” Then he turned to Madison, finding his smile again. “Except I got Max, and he’s probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Jamie noted that when he spoke about Max, the tension seemed to lift from his body.
“We’re going to live in Mallorca,” Madison piped up, wanting to squeeze herself into the conversation having been bestowed with Karl’s attention.
Karl looked at Jamie and raised his eyes inquisitively. Jamie decided it was time to take control of the conversation. “Yes, as I wanted to explain before my mother and daughter interrupted.” She turned her head side to side, giving both mother and daughter the ‘enough’ look. “I’ve just landed a new job back on the island.”
“Back on the island?” Karl seemed genuinely interested.
“Long story, we used to live in Mallorca, then we left and now … now we’re heading back.” Jamie smiled at the thought but then somewhat uncharacteristically, wanted to defend the profession she’d given her life to. “Not all models are evil witches, you know.”
Karl smirked. He didn’t look convinced and started to make an origami aeroplane out of the serviette in front of him.
Maria, now aborting her English, turned to Jamie, grabbing her hands. “E' un vero uomo. Sensibile. Bellissimo. Se non fossi così vecchia e grassa lo prenderei per me.” Jamie giggled. Her mum had said, ‘He is a real man. Sensitive. Gorgeous. If I was not so old and fat, I’d take him for myself.’ Jamie felt a rush of blood hit her face and Karl was shaking his head as if he didn’t understand and Jamie translated, “I am an old and fat lady with a big mouth, but even I know you deserve better.”
Karl laughed and started nodding in agreement, and for a moment, Jamie thought her mother was going to see this as an invitation that old fat women were his thing and sit on his lap. She seemed to be shuffling closer to him. This had to stop right now.
Karl passed the origami aeroplane to Madison, who smiled sweetly and then he looked at his watch. “It’s been lovely meeting you ladies properly, but I’ve got to go now, do my research for this next project.”
Jamie found herself intrigued. She was entering strange and new lands and not used to men walking away from her. She found herself wanting him to stay. “What do you do?”
“I’m a photographer.”
Ah yes, he said his wife ran off with another photographer . Jamie involuntarily shivered. She’d had enough of that world and being pulled and pushed around by photographers. Karl seemed to understand her reaction and without her even verbalising he added, “Not all photographers are manipulating wizards.” They all laughed.
“What job are you researching?” Jamie’s curiosity was fully aroused. She remembered him wearing a suit. She’d never met a photographer who was so smartly dressed.
As if he read her mind he said, “I own my own agency, The Karl Kaphlan Agency, just over there across the road.” He pointed to a shop with black and gold awning. “We do all sorts of photography: weddings, families and we also work with some leading papers and journalists. I usually delegate the commissions. I’m the one meeting clients and getting the jobs in but”—he paused as his golden eyes began to sparkle—“occasionally a job comes in that’s too juicy, so I nab it for myself.”
“And what’s this one, then?” Jamie was genuinely interested, enjoying the passion he clearly had for his work.
“It’s from The Daily Mail, their Weekend supplement magazine. They’re doing an exposé on Shoreditch and the Urban Art Scene. It’s one of the hotspots for emerging street art. If there’s a free metre of space, a wall, a building, a fence, anything, then it’s a canvas.”
“That’s what my mum’s doing,” Madison said enthusiastically.
Karl turned to Jamie and looked confused. “You’re a model-come-graffiti artist?”
Jamie laughed and proceeded to tell Karl all about the job with Nigel. After months of researching, she was now able to talk with some knowledge about some of the graffiti artists. Madison and Maria were unusually quiet, just watching the two engaged in conversation as if they were watching the finals at Wimbledon.
“I really have to go or I’ll lose the light; there’s a lot of ground to cover.” Karl stopped and seemed to cogitate for a moment. “Do you three want to join me? I’m only doing a recce, to familiarise myself for the shoot next week.”
Jamie was about to decline when Maria took control, putting on a more authoritarian voice, “Jamie, you go. I take Madison to McDonald’s.”
Jamie was embarrassed that Maria had put Karl on the spot. The invitation had been for the three of them and here was her mother practically shoving her onto him.
“No, Mamma, don’t be silly. Karl doesn’t need me hanging around.”
Maria was already sliding across the banquette so that Karl was forced to stand up, and before either Karl or Jamie could voice any protests, she reached over to Madison and pulled her up from the table.
Madison turned to Jamie. “Please, Mum, I really want to go with Nonna, and there’s nothing I like here and you never let me eat McDonald’s and Nonna is leaving us soon. Please.”
“Yes, Jamie. I spend special time with my granddaughter, you go with nice man. Ciao ciao . Lovely to meet you Karl,” she said, giving him one of her cheekiest smiles.
But before anyone could voice any protests, Maria marched out of the restaurant, Madison in tow, not before winking once again at Jamie.
“I’m sorry about my mother. She’s very Italian. Big mouth.”
Karl laughed. “You haven’t met my mum.” He was still standing up, looking down at Jamie.
“I’ve got to go. Come on, why not join me? You seem to know your stuff and it might be useful.” As if sensing Jamie’s hesitancy, “Can I be honest, honest?”
Jamie found this amusing. “Honest, honest? Not just honest? Are there different levels of honesty?”
“Honest, honest? Jamie, is that when I first saw you, I thought you were a beautiful woman for sure, and I should have guessed that you were a model, I mean obviously”—he looked her up and down—“but I’d just split up from my wife and all my friends were telling me I had to get out there …” he paused never taking his gaze of her. “But, honest, honest, now that the divorce is settled, plus the fact that you’re leaving to return to your island. I’m not looking to start anything that can’t go anywhere,” he said wistfully. “But …” He perked up and smiled, and Jamie noticed that his smile was tender and unthreatening, with small wrinkles appearing by the side of his eyes and dimples on his cheeks. “Honest, honest, I’d really love your company if you have time. We can have that conversation about the book and the challenges of being a single parent.”
Jamie laid her palms flat on the table and leaned in. “Honest honest?” she echoed, and he nodded; his smile never leaving his face. “That suits me just fine. Friends?” And she held out her hand and Karl took it, shaking it like they’d just made a deal.
“Friends.”