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She was solidly on the healthy granola, bought kombucha (still horrible) instead of lattes at her local coffee shop, and allowed herself to feel almost excited about seeing Ish later. Helen laid out everything they would need for their YouTube collaboration video: foil, greaseproof paper, a rolling pin, and her cutest apron that made her ‘bobs’ look big.
The past few days felt different. For once she didn’t have Spotify blaring out ‘hits of the 2010s’ that made her feel old and young all at once; she was happy to potter around in silence. Since she walked out of Fix 126, and had left Brody on read: the constant chatter in her head had stopped. It didn’t feel like she’d lost someone, she felt peaceful. She’d even started writing blogs again.
The first night she’d got home, she’d felt almost on edge, brimming with nervous excitement. Normally at this stage of working out a romance was definitely over, she’d be ordering greasy takeout and pondering whether wine on a Wednesday was acceptable. Instead, she felt fresh, like something in her was glowing and new.
After the date, Elle and Sophie had raced onto a group call with her, and as she was recounting the details (even the awkward bits) she felt good. She didn’t say, ‘I always end up falling for commitment-phobes,’ she didn’t cry (not that there was anything wrong with that), instead she felt, well, victorious; like she’d slain a dragon. Okay not a dragon (too violent), more like a ghost of something that had trailed her around since … Helen paused and leafed back through her memories. Then it was there: it wasn’t since she met Brody.
It was since Jonathan got engaged. No – since Jonathan had made some excuse about needing time to work on himself, then casually popped up on social media with a new girlfriend and no explanation. That’s when it started.
The irony was, back then she wouldn’t have dared to confront Jonathan about his bad behaviour; in fact, she’d actually resisted telling him what a scumbag he was because she didn’t want to ruin the chances of them getting back together at some mystical point in the future. She actually believed that he would saunter off with another woman, then return to her in a fit of remorse, and they’d live happily ever after, because, of course, that would solve everything. So instead of telling Jonathan exactly what she thought of his underhand, slippery infidelity, she’d spent the following months in a haze of cheese toasties and YouTube videos with titles like ‘The one thing you should never say if you want to get your ex back’.
Slowly the pain of Jonathan disappearing had morphed inside of her, away from white hot anger and gut clenching misery, into a dull background ache, that only flared up when she saw his stop on the tube map, or his profile on Instagram. Okay, when she checked his Instagram. Admitting is the first step as they say.
Then there was the news he was engaged, and Brody turned up at the perfect moment. Suddenly Jonathan only got second billing in her mind, Brody became all important; the plaster that covered the pain she’d been lugging around with her since Katy’s perfect heart-shaped face appeared on Jonathan’s social media. The diamond engagement ring burning into the image of them in Kenya.
The irony was, now the plaster was off, Helen didn’t feel the pain anymore. She didn’t miss Jonathan; in fact she was weirdly grateful that someone else had taken his issues off her hands. She didn’t really miss Brody either. The idea of meeting the perfect man was nice, but maybe that was just for the movies.
Helen’s buzzer rang.
She smoothed down her apron, and opened the front door. Ish stood in front of her in his top hat and cape, thrown over a tracksuit.
‘I didn’t really know what to wear.’ He shrugged, and opened his arms for a hug.
She hesitated, then stepped forwards, locking her arms under his. Yes, he was a lot taller than her, but it didn’t feel as awkward as she thought it would, snuggling in. As she tucked her head in under his chin, and breathed in Ish, slowly she softened.
‘Are ya all right, Hels? You’re sort of err, slumping?’ Ish twitched his shoulder to check she was still breathing.
Helen straightened up. ‘Sorry. I mean notsorrybut … do you want me to put your cape down somewhere?’
She took his cape over to her coat stand and realised that she was avoiding making eye contact; every time she met his gaze, she flinched and looked away, like she was staring into the sun. Even Helen noticed the little bubbles of excitement rising up in her that she was trying to squash. The comfortable chumminess that had always existed had shifted out of place, and something else was there instead.
‘So this is where the magic happens!’ Ish walked around her kitchen table wading through the awkward silence. ‘What on earth is this?’ Ish picked up a curved cylinder.
‘It’s a spiralizer …’
‘Of course, I use one of these all the time!’
‘I thought you were a dab hand domestically, Ish?’
‘I know my limits …’ Ish’s hands were on her table, and this time his eyes looked right into her. ‘So, I was thinking for the video that we could set it up right here …’ he said gesturing to the middle of the room like a movie director. His voice sounded deeper than normal, confident.
Ish pulled a Canon camera out of his backpack, and started snapping a tripod together. He directed the lens out towards Helen’s large picture window, capturing her kitchen table in the foreground.
‘Maybe if you just stand there,’ Ish waved for her to walk into the middle of the shot. ‘It makes a nice scene, see?’
He took a still then flipped the camera monitor towards her. Helen walked over and looked at the image.
‘I like it!’ Helen’s body language in the picture was a little slouched (she quickly rolled her shoulders back) but how Ish had framed the shot was actually quite nice. Sunlight was falling through her hair and onto the kitchen table, making it look more mahogany than plain old brown.
‘Good. So how do you normally like to do this? Shall we work out how we’re going to fit together … or just go for it? I mean, do you plan what you’re going to say or just sort of freestyle?’ Ish looked relieved to have finished talking.
‘I’m more of a freestyler personally, though I’ve done a little preparation this time.’ Helen pulled a jam roly-poly out of the oven. ‘Here’s one I made earlier!’ She placed the roly-poly in the middle of the table, cut a slice, and poured a jug of oozing custard over it.
‘You’d be good on Bake Off Hels …’
‘Or Blue Peter, I’m very PG like that.’ Did Helen just wink at him?
She turned the camera on and nudged Ish into the shot. ‘Seeing you take your first bite is good content!’
