Who Needs Vivienne Westwood? Chapter Two

Jools stretched out in bed, savouring the lazy Sunday morning. She checked the time on her phone. 9:40am. Matt was already up, with a cup of coffee, scrolling through his Facebook feed. They were due at his friends' house at 12. For a good ol' summer barbecue.

She made her way to the kitchen to put the espresso maker on the stove. She'd indulged somewhat in wine the night before but it was nothing a strong espresso and Panado couldn't cure. Opening the bathroom cabinet for the painkillers, while the espresso bubbled away, she regarded herself in the mirror. She'd looked better. Oh well. Popping two painkillers with a glass of water, she poured her espresso and headed down the length of the long corridor back to bed.

'How'd you sleep?' she turned to Matt, who briefly looked up from his phone to give her a nod.

'Yeah. Alright.' Then back to the phone.

'Do we have to bring anything to the barbecue?' she asked.

'Nope.'

She had to admit, these particular friends of his, Gemma and Chris, were incredibly generous in that way. Chris loved to cook and lavish their guests with the most laden of spreads on every other given Sunday. She adored them both. Gemma was simply a darling and Chris was a big bear of a softie, for all his bravado, impossible not to love.

Jools wondered, sipping on her espresso, who else would turn up at the day's festivities. She hoped John would be there. Mischievous John with his razor sharp wit and good humour. He always kept her entertained while admitting again, this time loathingly, that she was desperately woebegone when congregating with the other women, exhausting as they did topics that seldom went further than day-care options for their kids or insider pregnancy tips. And being neither with child, nor soon to be, if ever, Jools usually felt interminably bored with such conversational fare. Meanwhile, most of the men huddled outside by the fire with their beers, talking IT well past Jool's basic grasp, often thinking she would have suited days gone past, a simple world of Olivetti typewriters (Oh how she lusted!) and phones that had to be plugged into the wall. And unplugged by dinner time. And in all of this, John was usually her saviour.

She suddenly felt resentful just thinking about it. She'd had mostly male friends in her teens, haunting the neighbourhood's pool bars, the more low-life the better for they were more than happy to serve drinks to minors. Those were the days. And she liked to think she had a pretty decent general knowledge from music to movies to books, and it frustrated her that the men in this particular circle couldn't be arsed to even once introduce a remotely accessible topic of conversation. But Matt's friends were important to him, maintaining an incredibky tight bond with all of his school friends still, so she made the effort for his sake, as tedious as it could be at times.

Painkillers kicking in and the throbbing of her head easing up, Jools resolved to hit the shower. Freshened up in a jiffy, she threw a white blouse and pair of denims on the bed. Blow drying her hair, still in her robe, she changed next. She wasn't really one to dilly dally with getting ready. And she almost never wore makeup, besides a little lip balm. At best tinted peach.

To be fair, Matt was the precious one. Truly metrosexual, with a variety of products for his body, face and meticulous beard. She resolved to leave him to it and head for the balcony awash in the summer sun with a second espresso. Poh soon joined her, sitting ever so pretty on the balcony table while Jools stroked her soft fur.

Jools couldn't deny it. Her balcony was coming along nicely. Her lemon tree was finally thriving after it had been touch and go for a while. Her jasmine creeper, raised on an old coffee table on the advice of a gardening fundi friend, was flowering for the first time in four long and arduous years. Best of all, her latest acquisition, a river indigo cascading over the balcony wall, with its delicate white and pink blossoms. It reminded her of a bonsai in its elegant shape and umbrella of foliage. Her only failing was her herb box that simply hadn't made it. She'd tried time and time again with herbs, longing for nothing more than to pluck her own herbs from this modern makeshift 'garden', but to no avail. Her green thumbs seemed to stop there.

She'd heard that basil and coriander and rocket could be tricky starters. But she'd been assured that thirsty mint grew like a weed. She ruefully looked upon her pathetic pot of mint, almost shrivelled to nothing. Maybe, she mused, she could try hardier herbs like thyme and rosemary. Although she loved other herbs for their fresh punch in a salad or a garnish on a curry or for homemade pesto, she did use thyme a helluva lot in her cooking. A 'one herb fits all'... And lemon thyme... Yum! It would be useful to have at home. Sipping on the last of her second espresso, now cold, she resolved to hit the nursery on Monday.

Time for another espresso. Jools was a total coffee addict. The longstanding Mastertons Coffee House but a stone's throw away from her apartment and she utterly revelled in languidly, luxuriously, lacksadaiscally frequenting their fine establishment. Oh that vast variety and the heady intoxication of roasting beans, choices oh glorious choices... From Childhood Memories, to Dawn Patrol to Sweet Italian... She felt like a kid in a candy store in that place.

She had been devastated to learn that they wereooking for new premises, due to the general downward spiral of her neighbourhood. Her memories of Mastertons were so fond. When her grandparents had a double storey heritage home in a nearby square, the neighbourhood had been in its glory days. With eateries abounding, and each morning beginning with a trip to the coffee house and then the local German bakery, Dresden, for a loaf of their freshly baked and steaming rye bread. Such good times. But like most of the shop premises in the area, Mastertons would become yet another empty shopfront with a To Let sign. But what could you do?

Matt came and sat opposite her on the balcony, thankfully without his phone.

'How you feeling today? You really made the most of the wine last night.' Matt wasn't much of a drinker. A couple of beers was usually his limit.

'Fine now but it was a bit rough first thing this morning,' Jools admitted, a little embarrassed. 'A couple of Panado's and a strong coffee worked its magic.' She made a promise to herself not to drink too much at the barbecue. She knew that Matt wasn't a big fan when she drank.

'It's nearly time to go. You ready?' Inwardly Jools smiled. She'd been ready ages before him. Him and his preening habits. He'd even used anti-wrinkle cream on his knees once.

'Ready when Yooooou are,' she teased. But it was lost on him. He could be so serious sometimes.

'Okay. Let's hit the road then.'

Jools efficiently decanted her box wine into a wine bottle. Well rehearsed by now.

She grabbed her sling. Slung it.

And Matt barely a smile, any show, nadda, keys in hand, they were out the door.