she watches the two friends disappear into the Ladies – so confident, fun-loving, youthful and flamboyant
she wanted to say goodbye to Amma, they’ve hardly spoken all evening as she’s been swamped by her admirers, Shirley isn’t venturing into the toilet to intrude on her gossipy catch-up session with Dominique who’ll give her a look that says, what is it now, boring Shirl?
Shirley’s already had a quick chat with Yazz who seems to have caught the unseemly afro virus, her hair sticking up in a wiry frizz
back in the seventies people had tidy, symmetrical afros, it wasn’t for Shirley even then, her mother put her under the hot iron comb at the age of twelve and she hasn’t seen or felt her real hair since
Yazz didn’t bother to introduce her godmother to the two friends with her, which was plain bad manners
they looked a bit attitude-y, and Shirley’s used to teenagers cowering at the sight of her, not acting as if they’re equals
one of them was wearing a very non-religious hijab with sequins on it, the other one was spilling out of a very low-cut top
Yazz is more like Roland than her mother in presenting an overly self-assured image, and it feels as if she only speaks to Shirley out of a sense of duty these days
you’re my favourite godmother, Yazz used to tell her, perhaps she says that to all her godparents, all one million of them
she suspects Yazz doesn’t find her very interesting
Lennox tells her to stop being silly
her and Lennox slip out of the lobby and on to the promenade where Yazz is leaning against the wall facing the river talking to someone, a man with vulgar tattoos up his arms, it could equally be a woman, hard to tell in this ‘anything goes’ environment
Shirley can’t wait to get back home, to snuggle up on the sofa with Lennox with a cup of hot chocolate
and catch up on the Bake Off finale she missed tonight.
4
Amma
is crouched against the wall at the far end of the Ladies corridor at the National, toilet doors lining either side, keeping a lookout
while Dominique expertly cuts several lines of coke on her travel mirror
it feels like the old days when they’d sit and have a wazz in full view of each other while continuing whatever conversation they were stuck into
no matter how long since they’ve last seen each other, the distance of three thousand miles across America, plus another four thousand across an ocean, dissolves as if it was never a barrier in the first place
they pick up as comfortably as the time before, this is the real meaning of a friendship that lasts a lifetime
Dominique passes the mirror carefully over to Amma, here, ruin the lining of your nose with this
Amma snorts two lines up a nostril, as it hits the spot, she closes her eyes to savour the moment, feeling it infuse her bloodstream with heavenly sensations
remember this used to be the first night ritual for our plays? Dominique says, as she suctions up the rest of the powder
as the drug takes effect, she feels her own surge of euphoria as jet-lag is replaced with effervescent currents
how could I forget? Amma replies, recollecting their shared past is often a rhetorical ritual, good of you to resurrect such a fine old theatrical tradition, Dominique, talking of which, you really did like the play and production? I mean you really liked it?
Dominique has already said she loved it multiple times, but not enough for Amma, who craves reassurance
it was sick, Amma, sick, you threw up all over the grand old knights of the theatre who’ll be raging in their graves, my girl
you liked it then?
Dominique
showed up unannounced at the stage door to surprise her, whacked down to the bone, after ten sleepless hours from LA overnight, then an Uber from Heathrow to the National to take her seat just before the lights went down for an unmissable event in the herstory of our friendship
it’s so good that you’re here, Amma says, leaning back to enjoy the love the drug is giving her
it’s good to be here although it’s a whistle-stop visit as I’m crossing the ocean again tomorrow, twice in forty-eight hours, just for you, wouldn’t do it for anyone else, Ams
it’s been a long time since Dominique’s been to any of her friend’s first nights, the party outside is full of people she hasn’t seen in ages, although for a very good reason
she had a brief catch-up with Roland during which he namedropped recently having had lunch/dinner/drinks/whatever bollocks with two famous politicians, a rock star, and an artist whose work sold for millions
she said she’d never heard of him (she had)
Sylvester soared through the crowd like a homing pigeon when he saw her exit the auditorium at the end of the play, to tell her that he and she were among the few anti-establishment combatants of yesteryear who’d maintained their principles uncorrupted
it wasn’t a coincidence that he waved his hand in Amma’s direction
Dominique was about to mention her very capitalist festival when she was rescued by someone she’d worked with in the eighties, Linda, a stage manager who used to have urchin looks, and is now built like a Gulag prison guard
along with her entourage who stampeded in and elbowed Sylvester out of the way
Linda now ran her own film and telly props business, and her friends, who’d been diehard fans of Bush Women Theatre, were car mechanics, electricians, builders
she has a lot of time for these women who rejected femininity before it became fashionable
it was great to see them again
not so Shirley, Amma’s oldest friend and the dreariest woman on the planet, who looked horrified when they ended up next to each other at the bar, and forced her lips into an alleged smile
she’d once caught Shirley watching Amma kiss a girlfriend at a party, the expression on Shirley’s face when she thought she wasn’t being observed
the woman is a closet homophobe, although Amma won’t have it, says Shirley wouldn’t be her friend if she was
Dominique greeted Shirley effusively, said goodbye effusively and said little in between, what she calls her ‘hello-goodbye sandwich’
reserved for people she has to be nice to
Roland, Sylvester, Shirley
she’d once known them well, now when she sees them about once in a blue moon, sees that their worst traits have intensified
Roland is more intensely arrogant, Sylvester more intensely resentful, Shirley more intensely uptight
one of the exceptions is Lakshmi, still a great friend, who regularly pops into LA when she’s touring to promote her latest album
the highlight was seeing Yazz who rushed up and proudly introduced her to two of her confident, articulate university friends, one of them wearing a hijab with sequins that screamed ‘yeh, Muslim, funky and proud of it!’
the two friends gushed that they’d heard all about her from Yazz, don’t worry, you can rest easy, it was all good stuff, nothing slanderous much
Yazz suggested Dominique pay for her to spend a month in LA next summer without you know who, as a way for them to bond because you are my Number One godmother who’s been absent for most of my childhood, which was quite traumatic growing up with you know who
and the Professor of Fucking Everything
I could have done with a bit more support, Goddy Dom
don’t worry, I’m not expecting first class tickets, economy will do
and
a per diem
Yazz is downright feisty and Dominique loves her for it, of course she’s going to pay for her to visit
she delves into her knapsack on the toilet floor, extracts a black and white photograph, passes it over to Amma
remember this? thought I’d bring it to show how far you’ve come