23
Ben
Simon and Abigail have made a real effort with the flat.
They have bought a mountain of food, the fridge is stocked full of alcohol, and it seems the video viewing party is a big deal.
It’s strange because Simon has made plenty of videos over the last eight years but has never had a viewing party before.
Usually, he just sends me a link or casually mentions it in passing.
He said this one is important, ground-breaking and maybe the start of something bigger.
He’s been working with a YouTuber called Maddie Scott, and she’s the presenter of the video, while Simon is the creative director, editor and producer.
The thing is, he explained, Maddie has more than two million subscribers on YouTube and many more followers on social media, so she’s a big deal in the influencer sphere.
He says that together they want to create a series of videos showcasing London’s finest food and drink, which should generate plenty of income, while also giving them the opportunity to wine and dine at some of London’s finest restaurants and pubs.
Unfortunately, Maddie can’t make it for the viewing party because she’s shooting in Ireland.
‘Can you help with the plates?’ says Abigail from the kitchen. They have set up a table in the living room with a buffet of delicious canapes.
‘Of course,’ I say, and she starts handing me plates. ‘You know this is about his hundredth video and the first party. I can’t help but think that you’re behind it.’
‘Pish,’ says Abigail.
‘Pish? Why pish?’
‘This has nothing to do with me, Ben. I’m just the lackey in charge of food and beverages.’
‘So, you’re his catering manager now?’
‘Something like that,’ says Abigail, as Simon comes wandering in, still dressed in his casual clothes, while Abigail is already in a stunning dress. We were told to dress up for the occasion, and I am in a smart shirt and trousers.
‘Something like what?’ says Simon.
‘Abs is now your catering manager,’ I say.
‘The best bloody catering manager in the world!’ says Simon. ‘This food isn’t rubbish. It’s all Marks and Spencer . Right, I have to get everything set up before everyone arrives.’
Simon walks off into the living and starts doing something on his laptop, while I help Abigail with the plates.
Jemma will be here soon, and I am worried about breaking the Saskia news.
When I woke up this morning, there was a message from Saskia that said she was thinking about me and was having a weird day.
The thing is, Jemma was in bed next to me, and all I could think was, if she had read that message without context, she would probably have imagined the worst. The question is, am I cheating on her?
I know I am not physically cheating on her – ten-thousand miles confirms this to be true – but am I an emotional adulterer?
Is that the same? Worse? Better? Saskia and I are definitely involved with each other in some capacity, and Jemma deserves to know the truth, but I don’t know how to tell her.
I also haven’t responded to Saskia because I’m not sure what to say to her either. My head is a mess.
After Simon gets everything set up in the living room, he wanders off to get himself all dolled up, while I help Abigail bring all the food into the living room.
Simon was right. All the food looks incredible, and Abigail has done a brilliant job.
Obviously, her career in the media has prepared her for the party planning game.
As we bring in the last of the food, I have to get her take on my conundrum.
‘Abs, can I ask you something?’
‘Is it about the sandwiches? I did question myself over the egg and cress.’
‘No, it’s not about the sandwiches, it’s about me and Saskia.’
‘Your Australian “friend”,’ says Abigail, putting “friend” in air quotes.
‘You see, that’s the problem. I don’t really know how to describe my relationship with Saskia, and yet I need to tell Jemma about her, but what do I say? What do I call her?’
‘That is quite a conundrum. Fancy a beer while I think about my answer?’
‘Go on then,’ I say, and we walk into the kitchen. Abigail gets two bottles of beer from the fridge, and she passes one to me.
‘So, the problem is that you don’t know how to define your relationship with Saskia, but you need to tell Jemma about her before she finds out and presumes something dodgy is going on?’
‘Exactly,’ I reply, taking a sip of beer. Is alcohol the answer to the problem? Probably not, but you never know. Abigail takes a moment before she answers.
‘It’s clear what needs to happen, Ben. You need to sit Jemma down and explain everything. Be open, honest and tell her the truth.’
‘If you remember, Abs, the last girlfriend I was completely open and honest with hunted me down at an Italian restaurant in Fitzrovia with a ball of burrata.’
‘Yes, but that was psycho Saffy. This is Jemma, and she is lovely. I’m sure if you explain everything in a calm, clear manner, she will understand.’
‘Would you?’
Abigail takes a sip of her drink, then the doorbell goes, and so she doesn’t have time to answer my question.
I answer the door, and it’s Will, Poppy, Hugh, and then finally Jemma.
Everyone arrives together, and suddenly the flat feels very small – in more ways than one.
Simon reappears all dressed up in a suit for his screening event, and we all go through into the living room, where the table of food looks fantastic, and the TV is ready to show Simon’s video.
Jemma looks terrific in a lovely dress, and I know that I am a lucky man.
After my disastrous relationship with Saffy, a couple of unsuccessful blind-dates and a pitiful parkrun, to find myself in a relationship with someone as amazing as Jemma feels like a stroke of pure luck.
I am trying to remind myself of this as we tuck into the food and Abigail passes around drinks.
‘This spread is phenomenal,’ says Hugh, who is wearing quite a jaunty bow tie.
‘It was all Abigail,’ says Simon.
‘Well done, Abs!’ says Hugh. ‘What are these little things?’
‘Those are Camembert bites with an onion, chive and garlic dip.’
‘Absolutely delightful,’ says Hugh.
‘If you like those, you should try the vintage Cheddar and caramelised onion quiche. It’s mind-blowing,’ says Abs, ‘especially with the chutney.’
Hugh searches the table before he finds the vintage Cheddar and caramelised onion quiche, balances a small spoonful of chutney on top, and takes a bite. ‘Oh my, that is delicious! The sharpness of the Cheddar against the sweetness of the caramelised onions is—’
‘A real triumph?’ says Abigail.
‘Yes!’ says Hugh, who seems overwhelmed with all the food options.
Will is on a high-protein diet as he is in training, and so he goes for straight meat.
So, while Hugh is stacking his plate full of quiche, crisps, dip and other delectable high-carb, high-fat canapes, Will is tucking into a small pile of Italian prosciutto and British ham.
Jemma is standing with her arm around me, while I am trying to think of the exact words I could use to describe my relationship with Saskia, when Simon tells us he will start the video in about ten minutes.
The thing is, just the fact that Saskia and I are friends at all is a bit out of the ordinary, but the fact we message and FaceTime so regularly, and obviously my feelings towards her too, and it’s such a mess.
How is it possible to describe an indefinable relationship?
‘It’s a shame Maddie couldn’t be here,’ says Will.
‘It is,’ replies Simon. ‘She’s shooting in Ireland this week, then she’s off to Australia.’
‘Busy girl,’ says Will.
‘What’s she doing in Australia?’ asks Poppy.
‘Something in Sydney. A collaboration with an Aussie company. Something to do with food, travel, sunglasses, I think. Vegemite might be involved. I really don’t know.’
‘Sydney. Isn’t that where your Australian friend lives?
’ says Hugh suddenly, and everyone goes quiet, and the tension in the room is palpable because everyone, except Jemma, obviously, knows about Saskia.
They also know that I haven’t yet told Jemma about Saskia.
It’s my dirty little secret, and Hugh has just outed me in public.
I am suddenly hot, my heart is racing, I feel sick to my stomach, and I look at Hugh with a sort of ‘WHAT THE FUCK, MAN?!’ expression on my face.
Hugh gets a swift elbow in the ribs from Poppy.
Realising what he has said, he attempts to redeem himself.
‘I mean, obviously, I don’t know what I am talking about. ’
‘Oh, nice save,’ says Poppy sarcastically.
The room is silent because all my friends and sister know the score, and so they, like me, are waiting for the obvious question from Jemma that comes swiftly with a look of confusion because she can clearly detect the sudden amount of tension in the room.
‘What friend in Australia?’ asks Jemma.
‘Let’s start the video!’ says Simon abruptly. ‘Abigail, curtains, please!’
‘Righto!’ says Abigail, dashing across to close the curtains, and it seems, for the time being at least, Simon has given me a little bit of time to get my story straight.
The curtains are closed, Simon is fiddling around on his laptop, which is connected to the television, and we all find somewhere to sit.
After a minute, Simon stands up, makes a small speech, thanks everyone for coming, and he hopes we enjoy the video, which is twenty minutes long.
Twenty minutes to sit next to Jemma and think up an answer to her question.