The Shoe Princess's Guide to the Galaxy (18 page)

       
Thankfully, Fi found a way out of her melancholy and has reinvented herself as Marco’s PA for the project. (Marco’s organisational skills are akin to those of a nutty professor, which is possibly why he’s in this predicament in the first place.) She’s absolutely thrown herself into the project – arranging fittings, and ferrying materials, shoes and people all over London each evening. Not a stone’s been left unturned.

       
In spite of Tim and Fi, my own slightly flagging spirits have been greatly boosted by Marco’s faith in my abilities. I’d almost forgotten how enjoyable it is to work on a project – with a team and a pressing deadline. I feel like the fire in my belly has been reignited.

       
My main task has been to make the shoes for Puck, the mischievous fairy helper – who’s incidentally being played by a woman. During her shoe fittings she’s spoken openly to me about losing her left leg (above the knee) in a car accident eight years ago. (She was twenty-three and hit by an oncoming car on her way to work.) She’s super-excited about showing off her new state-of-the-art false limb in her shoes too. The money from her legal case has just come through, which has allowed her to ditch her NHS tree-stump and get some glam shoes made at the last minute. They’re a slightly more difficult version of the mules that we made at shoe school – in white patent leather, with a Louis heel and large red sequinned bow on the front – and quite a challenge for me; but nonetheless exciting too.

Mum, Dad, Kate, Tim and Millie have all come along this evening to the Open Air Theatre, appropriately on midsummer’s eve, to admire the fruits of our labours. And after the fiasco at the shoe exhibition, they’ve been given strict instructions to keep Millie out of mischief – even if it involves Dad taking her for a walk around the entire Regent’s Park. I don’t want any extras on stage tonight.

       
Once seated, we find ourselves cocooned in an enchanted wood of lush green trees, rose-perfumed air and evening birdsong. The occasional hovering jumbo jet or distant siren the only clues to the bustling city beyond.

       
With only minutes to go until the start, my thoughts wander to the actors as well as to Marco, Ben and Fi all working frantically backstage. I can’t help but smile when I think about Puck, and how she will most definitely be creating havoc in the woods tonight. She’s a real pocket dynamo, and an inspiration.

       
‘Now remind me, what’s the play about?’ Tim poorly disguises the cloud of impending boredom looming over him.

       
‘Being with the one you love. Oh, and fairies. But mostly the power of imagination!’ I can barely contain my excitement, as this is one of my all-time favourite plays. Though I fully appreciate the latter two concepts may be a little left-of-field for my darling computer nerd of a husband.

       
With a wry smile, Tim kisses me and places his arm around me, squeezing me tenderly.

       
‘Let the magic begin, then.’

       
Mum gives us a little wink. She and Dad are sitting on a rug on the grassed section beside us, with Millie nestled in her lap – heavy-lidded and glazy-eyed in the mottled twilight.

       
As a wave of hush rolls across the audience, I spot Liz and Harry hurriedly making their way over to us.

       
A few weeks back, after months of little contact from Liz, I summoned the courage to keep calling until her answer machine was full and she had no choice but to pick up the phone. Sometimes that’s what friends are for, isn’t it?

       
Anyway, she dropped the bombshell that she and Harry had been having a terrible time of it – their relationship disintegrating under the pressure of IVF the past year or so. This news
really
rocked us. We’d always envisioned Liz and Harry as the sweet old couple walking arm in arm along Brighton Pier. It was a given.

       
I guess, as Liz said, ‘Nothing turns you off sex more than
having
to do it.’

       
But tonight Liz blushes uncontrollably when I whisper that I’m glad they could make it out of their bedroom to come along. For in a happy twist, they reached a watershed a few months back, and have been ‘going for it’ with little time for anyone, or anything else.

       
Harry’s beaming and I’m so completely chuffed for them.

       
In such a surreal setting, and with my loved ones around me, I can’t help but openly count my blessings. I turn and kiss Tim’s hand as he gently caresses my shoulder. It’s hard to think how life could get any better.

       
A warm breeze swirls around our feet and the play begins.

While I’ve been looking forward to seeing Puck perform, I’ve also been really nervous for her too. As she also suffered a mild head injury from the accident which affects her ability to plan and organise her thoughts. But she assured me that she’d been taught loads of tricks by the occupational therapists on how to memorise her lines. A gaggle of them are here tonight cheering her on from the front row.

       
I needn’t have worried. Puck’s a stand-out star! And if she has missed any lines no one is the wiser, as her stage presence and energy is infectious. In fact, all the actors have done a superb job, and by the interval the atmosphere is electric.

       
Tim, Liz, Harry, Kate and I are standing in the bar area when Fi comes rushing over.

       
‘Oh, Jane, great! We need you ASAP. It’s Oberon. He’s having a
major
muscle spasm and I can’t get his boots back on. It’s at least a two-person job, and we can’t have the King of the Fairies
sans
boots. Everything’s gone haywire back there. Marco and Ben are
frantic
.’

       
I glance quickly at Tim, who, seeing my eyes light up with the thrill of being needed for a shoe emergency, nudges me towards Fi.

       
‘I’ll be back as soon as possible,’ I promise.

       
‘Actually, Liz, I think we’ll need your help too,’ says Fi.

       
Liz splutters and chokes a little on her champagne.

       
‘Oh, I don’t know. I didn’t even finish my shoes at shoe school, remember. I won’t be much help.’

       
Her response gives Fi a visible shock; it’s most unlike Liz not to offer help. But then again, I notice her clutching Harry’s hand like a newlywed and it seems almost criminal to separate them.

       
Fi clearly doesn’t have time for polite parley and turns desperately to Kate, who is on her way backstage with us without even needing to be asked.

‘Oh my!’ Fi wasn’t wrong when she said it was chaos back here. She immediately darts over to Ben and the other set designers, who are in a complete tizz. It looks like some fairy lights have singed the props for the next scene.

       
Marco quickly nabs me, giving me instructions on how to restitch one of the gold-leather ties on Titania’s stilettos. Kate and I then help him get Oberon’s boots on, while he chats animatedly, seemingly elated by how well his shoes have fared. I’m
so
pleased for him and can’t help but give him a congratulatory hug and peck on the cheek.

       
After a couple more frenzied jobs, and still high from the adrenalin of our backstage visit, we make our way to the audience. The next act’s due to start any minute.

       
‘So that’s THE Marco?’ Kate says inquisitively.

       
‘Yes, indeed.’ I keep forgetting that she hasn’t met Fi’s man yet.

       
‘Who you’ve been spending all the time with in the studio – making shoes.’

       
‘Uhuh,’ I nod. Though I’m not sure I like her tone and am curious as to where she’s heading with this.

       
She purses her lips and mutters a feeble, ‘Mmm.’ I
really
hate it when she does this.

       
‘What?’ I say a little defensively. She’s giving me the spooks.

       
‘And Tim’s OK with this?’

       
‘Oh, bloody hell, Kate. It’s not Saudi Arabia. I don’t need my husband’s
permission
to work with a man, you know.’

       
‘A very handsome man, who you certainly get on well with.’

       
‘Meaning  ...’

       
‘All the hugging and kissing.’

       
This is slightly ridiculous.

       
‘He’s Italian. He’s very tactile. It means
nothing
to him. And in any case, I was genuinely happy for him.’

       
‘Well, I’m just saying you looked a little
flirty
,’ she says.

       
‘Oh, get a grip Kate,’ I say in exasperation. She, of all people, should know that I had a sufficiently misspent youth, and am hardly the most likely candidate for a miniskirts-and-disco-ball midlife crisis. No matter how often my husband buggers off to India.

       
‘And don’t you think Fi seemed odd too?’ she pushes on.

       
I have to say I’ve sort of got used to Fi being a little strung-out lately, what with the whole yoga-no-high-heels-no-hair-dye-uncharted-waters thing. And in any case, she’s got good reason to be stressed out tonight.

       
‘You know what Fi’s like when she’s under pressure. She’s so desperate to impress Marco and wants everything to be perfect.’

       
‘My point exactly. Fi’s your best friend, Jane. And Tim’s the best thing that ever happened to you. Tread carefully.’

       
I don’t even dignify that with a response.

       
The hazy twilight suddenly gives way to an ominous shroud of darkness and we march back to our seats in stony silence – only for me to find Tim’s empty.

       
Oh.

       
Liz leans over and whispers, ‘Tim got an urgent call from work – Alex or someone or other. There’s a major computer glitch. He said it’ll probably be a late one, and not to wait up for him.’

       
Just great. I swear, ever since Alex came on the scene, Tim’s taken on the role of executive dogsbody, ready to jump at his every beck and call.

       
More than a little dejected, I jostle my way over to the grassed section and snuggle up on the rug with Mum, Dad and Millie. As I watch the remainder of the play, I can only conclude that Puck’s been rubbing pansy juice in Kate’s eyes too. I can’t believe she had me explaining myself about something that doesn’t even exist.

       
I am not attracted to Marco.

       
Am I?

       
OK, I won’t deny that he is quite
fanciable
. And there was that little
frisson
at shoe school. But I purely enjoy his company for our shared passion for shoes. That’s it.

       
Right?

       
Well ... he
has
featured in the odd X-rated daydream. But who doesn’t have fantasies? Maybe not ones involving their best friend’s boyfriend, I admit. (If it’s any consolation, Tim was in them too.)

       
And Marco most certainly does not fancy me.

       
Does he?

       
Nah. This is real life, not theatre – people don’t magically switch affections.

       
Do they?

       
I suddenly feel a little uneasy.

       
Bloody Kate.