Chapter 3
Dyddiad Coffi - Coffee Date
Lucy
I’ve drafted a text to my dads – and deleted it – seventeen times. But I can’t word the message in a way that’ll make it any less painful.
Dear dads, sorry to tell you but I got myself fired a week ago lol hope you’re okay, Lucy xxx
I’d rather not say anything at all.
I lock my screen and the date catches my attention. It’s the 7th. I should be in Dublin, enjoying a breakfast Guinness with the team before we pack onto Topaz’s jet for the hop across the channel to Manchester. Not sitting in a cafe in London, contemplating how to tell my parents I’ve failed.
I’ve only had one job offer in the entire week I’ve been unemployed. Topaz must be telling everyone how awful I was at my job, how I messed everything up for him. If I don’t find another posting soon, I’ll never work again.
I puff out a breath. It’s fine. It’s the start of the New Year. The offers will start flooding in soon.
The bold subject line of my agent’s email sits proudly at the top of my lockscreen because I can’t bring myself to read it yet.
URGENT: DISCRETE PA NEEDED. MUSICIAN. SOUTH WALES
If it’s the South Walean musician I’m thinking of, hard pass. He chased his last assistant away. The PA group lit up about it for days. Poor Margaret only lasted three weeks.
I’m not desperate. I have savings. And Topaz has to pay me for my notice. It’s the law. I don’t need to haul my whole life across the country just yet. I couldn’t do all that, just to walk into a job worse than the last.
I stare at the condensation-fogged windows. The bell above the cafe door rings.
‘Fucking shit balls.’
That’ll be Felicity.
Overstuffed bags dangle from the handle of the buggy she’s ramming through the quaint, too-small doorway.
I leap up and immediately get my hair caught in a trailing pothos hanging from the ceiling.
It takes me a minute to untangle and I meet her halfway, in time to catch the plant pot she knocked over.
Cafes in Richmond are not designed all that well for harassed mums.
‘I’ve no idea why they make these doors so fucking tiny,’ she says. Her box-dyed blonde waves are soaking and plastered to her head. ‘Coffee’s my heroin. I need it more than anyone else. You’d think they’d make it easier to get their hands on my money.’
I take the bags off the handle and carry them to the table. The baby coos at me when she spots me, and I’m glad Felicity forced me out of my flat.
‘If you don’t meet me at Sip Happens,’ she told me when she video-called me at seven this morning, ‘I’ll march all the way over there and drag you the fuck out of your flat. Come on. I need a fucking teacake, and if you’re in the city, we have to catch up.’
It would have been awful to make her ferry herself and the baby across the city in the rain. So here I am. I need some time with my best friend. She’s a great Agony Aunt.
Although, for her to help me, I would actually have to make sense of what happened on New Years.
‘I’ve already ordered your caramel white mocha with extra cream,’ I tell her. We guide the buggy around tiny wooden chairs and tables, apologising to the elbows and heads we catch as we do. ‘Soy, of course. It might not be as hot when it first arrived, though.’
‘How long have you been here?’
‘Ten minutes?’
She sighs. ‘But I’m only five minutes late. Me and Izzy were proud we got out of the house almost on time.’
‘I know. But if you’re early, you’re on time, and if you’re on time, you’re late.’
‘God, you’re such a PA.’
Everything I practiced saying over and over on the tube this morning drops out of my head, and my mouth clams up. I focus on getting Izzy settled so I don’t have to reply.
I can’t let Felicity down. She spent hours forcing people to vote for me for Head Girl. She looks after my flat and house plants while I travel the world. If I tell her that I quit, and all the extra effort she put in was for nothing, she’ll be disappointed in me.
I would die before that happens.
I take a recovery breath, push my phone further away from me, then squeeze Izzy closer. She pats my cheek as if she understands all my inner turmoil.
‘So, you gonna tell me why you’re back in London?’ Felicity drains the entire mug of cold coffee in one go, digs her phone out of the side pocket of her nappy bag and scans a QR code to order another.
‘Make mine black. Please.’ I’m going to need it. ‘And I was always going to be in London this week.’ My cheeks heat, but I don’t fan my face.
She raises a sharp eyebrow at me. ‘You’re lying.
Want to ask me how I know?’ My cheeks burn harder.
‘You also said you weren’t going to be home for three months the last time I saw you.
You asked me to check on your mail if I “happened to be in the area”, which is Lucy for “you better check on my mail at least once a week or I’ll haunt you forever”. ’
‘My itinerary changes all the time, Fliss. You know that. Perks of the job.’
‘Don’t make me revoke your guideparent badge.’
‘Guideparents aren’t real.’ I unzip Isabelle’s coat a little too aggressively, and she squawks. ‘Sorry, sweetheart.’
I close my eyes and inhale the baby scent. It’s powdery, like freshly-washed linen. Like she’s brand new, though she’s spent six months on this planet already. My breathing steadies. Baby cuddles cure everything.
‘Lucille Taylor.’
The warning shivers down my spine. I mumble into Izzy’s downy brown hair, ‘I quit my job.’
Felicity drops her phone on the table, fresh order forgotten. ‘You what?’
‘I quit. I offered to work out my notice and to help him find my replacement but—’ She scoffs. ‘He rightly told me to stuff my notice and fired me.’
‘He didn’t! Well, I mean great for you though, babes. Won’t you get, like, a big fat redundancy check?’
Her words, full of concern rather than the judgement I expected, force me to sit up straighter. It makes it easier to continue.
‘I’ll get up to my last shift paid. But that’s not the point. I’ve never not worked, Fliss.’
‘When did this happen?’
‘Before the New Year concert in Wembley last week.’
‘Last week! And you’re only telling me now?’
‘I needed time to process.’
‘Why?’ Her eyes narrow at me. ‘What happened?’
I push my fringe off my forehead, then flatten it. Topaz never turned against me like that. Other people in the team, yes, but…
‘Lucy, spill.’
She won’t let me leave until I do. So I tighten my grip on the baby and do as I’m told.
When I’m finished, she says, ‘I fucking said that gemstone arsehole was bad bloody news. Ever since you left that old alcoholic to work for him. The one time I met him, he acted like a goddamn toddler. My kids are better behaved than him, and they’re brats.
’ She grabs her phone to finish her order.
‘So, he’s carried on with his tour without you? ’
I nod. ‘My notice would have covered the last dates and all the wrap-up that needs to be done. But he’d prefer to be without anyone than work with me.’
‘Fuck him, Lucy. What a bellend.’
‘But I—’
‘No buts. He’s treated you like shit for the past four years, and it’s about time you bloody stood up for yourself. Seriously. I’m fucking proud of you.’
I play with my empty coffee mug. I’m not sure how she can be proud of someone who’s unemployed, who willingly quit her job.
‘Thanks,’ I say, though the word is tight and I definitely don’t mean it. ‘Doesn’t help me now, though, does it? I’ve been looking for a new job but it’s January. No one’s hiring. If it hasn’t already been budgeted for, it’s not happening. But something will come up. It always does.’
‘Someone will snap you up soon, I’m sure. It only took you four days to switch between the crooner and Topaz. You’ll do it again. Or find something else to do. Have a change. Get a job that keeps you closer to home so you can hang out with me.’
I smile, though it's weaker than I can normally manage. It would be nice to spend more time with her and the kids. I barely get to see them. But… ‘I like being an assistant.’
‘Well if you want to carry on being a doormat—’
‘I’m not a doormat. I want to look after people.’ I care. Service is my love-language, and there’s nothing better.
‘I say this from the kindness of my heart, Lucy, but you’re a doormat. You let Topaz walk all over you. No wonder you snapped. You can’t keep on ignoring bad behaviour.’
‘I don’t ignore it. People deserve second chances, or grace when they make mistakes.’
‘When was the last time he said please or thank you when he asked for something? When did you ever correct him when he commanded instead of asking nicely?’
‘He’s busy, and I—’
‘See! Doormat. You’re making excuses for him even now. You set the bar too low, Lucy. Got off on the wrong foot with him because you were too bloody eager to please him. You’re always too bloody eager to please people.’
‘No, I—’
‘Have you told your dads yet?’
I stare at the chipped wood table. ‘No. Not yet.’
She sighs and reaches across the table to take my hand. ‘You should call them. Nothing bad is going to happen. They love you. Plus you’ll need their support until you find something new.’
My thoughts drift to the email, the title pulsing for my attention. If I got myself a new job, they wouldn’t need to know about all the drama between Topaz and I. I could tell them I switched clients, that I fancied a change and I was moving to Wales.
Our coffee arrives, and I take the longest sip as I weigh up whether I should tell her about the offer. Once it’s out there, she won’t drop it. She’ll think it’s the best idea ever, will encourage me to go for it like she has for everything else since we were twelve.
‘What if…’ I ease out. Stop. Tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. ‘What if I’ve already got another offer?’
She frowns at me over the rim of her mug. ‘I’m confused. If you’ve already found another job, then what’s the fucking issue?’
‘My agent emailed me this morning. A musician in desperate need of some PR help as well as all the usual assistant stuff. I kind of miss that side of the business. It could be a chance for me to finally use my degree.’
‘Who?’
‘You know I can’t tell you until I’m employed and you’ve signed an NDA. But it would mean a move to Cardiff.’
‘Shut. Up.’ I hate how excited she looks – her eyes wide, her smile massive.
It’s infectious and a tiny part of me gets excited for the change, too.
‘They say Cardiff’s a lovely place to live,’ she practically breathes out.
‘Wales is fucking beautiful. And we love Gavin and Stacey. We can go to Barry and play on the slot machines. It’s cheap there, too.
Bet you could rent a three-bedroom house for what you’re paying in Spitalfields. ’
‘I could be signing up for another difficult situation. The musician in question is part of the issues with Topaz and—’
‘Oh my God!’ She clamps a hand to her mouth. ‘It’s not—’
‘Shhh!’ Heads turn towards us. I won’t get a new contract if I’m the reason his name ends up in the papers. ‘But yes, I think so.’
‘You have to take it. It’s a great opportunity. From what I hear, he’s lovely in real life. In fact, if you don’t take it, I’ll abandon my children and go do it for you.’
Tempting. But I’m not sure I’m ready to be a mum. Izzy starts to whinge so I pass her over and Felicity busies herself with getting the baby latched on. I check my phone to find a new message waiting for me.
Steve Taylor (Dad)
Heya hunni, hope Dublin’s sunny and you’re drinking all the Guinness? Me and Pappa saw Topaz on the TV this morning. He’s looking great. Miss you xxx
I miss them too. All I’d need to do is hop on the train and I could see them again. It’s an hour from Richmond, which is nothing considering the amount of travel I’ve done recently. An afternoon with them would be the balm I need.
But they’d also have a million questions that I am nowhere near ready to answer.
It’s bad enough having to spill all to Felicity, but Dad’s an ex-barrister.
He loves to grill me. I’d cave under his pressure.
Neither he nor Pappa quit when things got tough, when they wanted a baby but struggled to get one.
Telling them I gave up on my amazing opportunity because things got a little too hard?
No. No way. I won’t put them through that.
I swipe away from the text, only to be reminded about that damn email.
Unread notifications have a way of worming into my brain.
Perhaps the job wouldn’t be too bad. At least I could pay my bills, boost my savings, until I found something better.
Living in Wales might be nice, too. There’ll be new places to explore, new things to see.
It could be worth a shot. But it needs a proper pros and cons list before I commit to anything.
Felicity changes the topic to baby stuff and parent-teacher conferences, and I stir my coffee, only half-listening while my brain imagines what my life might be like in Wales. The seed of excitement, already planted by Felicity, grows a little.
Perhaps a change of scenery is exactly what I need.