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Ish pulled a spoon out of a ceramic jar on Helen’s table and dug in. ‘I’d like to say @helenbakes roly-poly vintage cake …’
‘… pudding,’ Helen corrected.
‘Pudding, sorry. Is enough to turn me from being vegan. But we’re here today to look at another slice of Victorian life …’
‘… that was a terrible pun!’
‘If you’d been watching my channel, Helen, you would know I’mrenownedfor my terrible puns, and my lit rhymes, speaking of which …
‘The Victorians’ diet wasn’t so bad,
With eels, sprats and herrings to be had.
They invented the real Sunday dinner,
And compared to us, were often thinner!
If you were poor, it was bread and gruel,
This nasty food was your only fuel.
But rich folks ate a lot of cake,
Which Helen here is gonna bake!’
Ish delivered the rap in his usual style, moving erratically around the kitchen, up close into the camera lens and finishing off by doffing his hat to Helen.
Ish switched the camera off. ‘Was that all right? Sort of what you were thinking?’
‘Totally average …’
Ish’s big Rolo eyes flicked down. ‘Oh.’
‘… for a YouTube megastar, I mean! You’re annoyingly talented, I need to have stronger material like that to stand out.’ Helen’s eyes met Ish’s for the first time that day. A long second passed.
‘I actually like ya channel ye know? I reckon if we can just improve your thumbnails and titles a bit, the crowds will come flocking back.’
‘So no need for me to suddenly become good at improv or rapping? Buy a push up bra?’
‘I wouldn’t think so, no. You’ve got a nice persona, very … natural, and likeable.’ Ish turned his back to Helen, and fiddled with his camera lens. ‘So how’s your week been anyway? How’s yer guy?’
‘He was never really my guy.’ Helen re-tied her apron strings. ‘It’s more like he doesn’t exist … I mean heexists…’
‘… as in, has objective reality …’
‘… but I just don’t think he’s the right guy for me.’ Helen stuffed her hands into her apron pocket. ‘What about you? How’s the dating life going? Are you on any apps?’
Ish smirked. ‘My bio reads, “more woke than bloke”.’
‘Are you serious? How have we not matched?!’ As usual the words came out of her mouth before Helen could sort and edit them. She blushed so hard she wondered if she matched the jam roly-poly.
‘Their algorithms obviously need some work …’ Ish’s voice trailed off as he wiped a napkin under the brim of his hat.
His Rolo eyes looked steadily at her. She inched closer. She could see his chest gently rising and falling beneath his tracksuit. The intensity crept up on her in a wave of heat. She could almost feel individual springs of hair standing on edge like there was static electricity in the room.
Her eyes couldn’t find a comfortable place to rest: they went to her feet (why was she wearing bed socks?), the door, the table, the camera, the fridge …
‘Looks like you’ve got a fancy party comin’ up?’ Ish picked Sophie’s engagement party invite off the fridge door. ‘Your best friend, right? The one with the … the guy who’s a bit …’
