Stuck On You Read online

‘Is Si not here?’ Damian asks as we sit down on the cream leather sofas.

  ‘No, he, Nikki and Stella are at Nikki’s parents’ house tonight,’ his mum tells us.

  Si might not actually be here, but there are photos of him, with his family, with his parents, all over the walls. Si’s photographic prescience is overwhelming.

  ‘So, come on, introduce us,’ his dad prompts excitedly. He’s literally on the edge of his seat, leaning into us.

  ‘This is Sadie,’ he tells them. ‘Sadie, this is my dad, Ray, and my mum, Gloria.’

  ‘Lovely to meet you,’ Gloria says.

  ‘You too,’ I reply.

  ‘Let me get you some wine,’ she insists as she disappears into the kitchen.

  ‘Bring Damo a beer,’ his dad calls after her.

  It’s so weird, hearing him call Damian Damo. I can see Damian visibly cringe each time. My parents had a nickname for me when I was younger too. They used to call me Diddy, for a few reasons. First of all, I couldn’t say my own name, when I first started talking, so I would just repeat the ‘di’ sound at the end of Sadie. They also liked to call me it because diddy means small. Not only did I eventually master the pronunciation of my own name, but I grew much bigger. I literally grew out of my nickname but it looks as if Damo is still alive and well and living in this house.

  ‘How long has this been going on?’ Ray asks, pointing a finger back and forth between us.

  ‘Coming up to a year,’ Damian replies. ‘Oh, wait, you mean…’

  ‘We’re not a couple,’ I say.

  ‘Sadie is from work,’ Damian tells them.

  ‘W-what?’ Ray stutters in disbelief. ‘You’re the boss, aren’t you?’

  ‘Most of the time,’ Damian jokes.

  ‘So… you’ve brought an employee with you?’ Ray asks. ‘Or is this like one of those court-ordered, she has to keep an eye on you, check your pee and that…?’

  ‘No, Dad, she isn’t my probation officer, if that’s what you’re saying,’ Damian replies with a sigh.

  ‘Who’s on probation?’ Gloria asks as she places a tray down on the table with a selection of drinks, crisps and nuts. ‘Not Damian? No! Didn’t I say there were drugs…?’

  Gloria doesn’t explain what she means by this.

  ‘She’s my assistant,’ Damian tells them.

  ‘You brought your assistant?’ his dad says. ‘For New Year?’

  ‘Trust me, it was weirder for my family, turning up with my boss for Christmas,’ I point out.

  ‘I thought you said you were working at Christmas,’ Gloria says, with the big, sad puppy-dog eyes her son so clearly inherited from her.

  Shit.

  ‘I was,’ Damian says. ‘I went to the crazy Christmas island where Sadie grew up. I’ll show you the pictures later. I’m doing a show with real people, real stories…’

  ‘That’s nice,’ Gloria says kind of dismissively. ‘So you’re just employer and employee?’

  ‘And friends,’ I add.

  ‘No one takes their boss or their employee to meet their family,’ Ray says under his breath before swigging his beer.

  Eesh, this is a little awkward.

  ‘Did you get your presents?’ Damian asks, changing the subject.

  ‘Oh, Damian, yes,’ she replies. She almost sounds a little choked up. ‘The patio furniture is wonderful. Just what we needed to go on the new flags. I can’t believe you were so thoughtful. We’re excited about summer now.’

  I mentally take a bow. I saw the bit in the newsletter his mum sent him about the new patio so when I was doing Damian’s Christmas shopping, I decided on the furniture.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ he tells them, as if it were all him, as if he’s always known all parts of this information. It’s scary how unflinching he is when he’s lying. I wonder if I’d be able to keep a lid on it so easily.

  ‘We weren’t expecting you, so your present isn’t exactly ready,’ Gloria says. ‘It needs wrapping and so on. Can I give you it later?’

  ‘Yeah, don’t worry about it,’ Damian says. I’m not sure he even believes they have anything for him.

  ‘And Si and Nikki were really pleased with the restaurant voucher you sent them – now little Stella is one, they’re going out on more dates. Leaving the baby with us, of course. A one-year-old can’t stay home alone.’

  Gloria laughs at her own joke in such an adorably wholesome mumsy way.

  ‘So, you’re staying for the New Year bash, then?’ Ray says excitedly. ‘Both of you?’

  ‘We are indeed,’ Damian says. ‘We’re here.’

  There’s a tone to his voice that I reckon might be for my benefit. One that echoes his earlier statement of ‘you asked for this’. I did. And I do still think it’s the right thing to do, but I can see why he’s reluctant to be here. In this room, surrounded by pictures of Si, with his parents talking about his job – his incredible job that he is so talented at – as if he’s just got in with a bad crowd, and showing such little interest.

  ‘I take it my room is ready?’ Damian says.

  ‘Of course,’ Gloria replies.

  ‘OK, I’ll show Sadie up, so we can put our stuff somewhere, then maybe I can plug my camera into the TV? Show you the pictures I’ve taken. It really is so gorgeous, where Sadie grew up…’

  ‘Yes, after Eastenders,’ Gloria replies.

  ‘Yeah, you can show us properly when it’s finished,’ Ray says, quickly adding: ‘Not that I want to watch Eastenders.ʼ

  ‘This way, Sadie,’ Damian says, nodding towards the hallway.

  He closes the glass-panel living-room door behind us.

  ‘She’s just his assistant but they’re sharing a room,’ we both hear Ray mutter with a scoff, clear as anything, through the glass door.

  ‘We’re sharing a room?’ I double-check with Damian as we head up the stairs.

  ‘Yep,’ he replies. ‘It’s a two-bed house. Two up, two down. You could sleep on that leather sofa but I wouldn’t recommend it. It gets so warm, you’ll wake up glued to it.’

  ‘Is it not a bit weird, if we share?’ I start, wracking my brains for the best way to tackle the situation. It’s already weird I’m in my boss’s parents’ house. It would be even weirder to sleep in his bed with him.

  ‘Don’t look so worried.’ Damian laughs as he opens the door with his arm.

  I follow him inside and breathe a sigh of relief. Oh, that’s why he’s not freaking out as much as I am. I smile.

  ‘I didn’t realise you had bunk beds.’ I laugh. I mean, it’s still weird, but it’s less weird.

  ‘Baggy top bunk,’ he says, practically vaulting himself up there with an energy usually reserved for children. ‘The top bunk was always mine, the bottom was Si’s. I figure, if I had to sleep in your sister’s bed, you should have to sleep in my brother’s.’

  ‘Sounds fair to me,’ I say.

  ‘Come on, let’s ditch our stuff and go back downstairs. My mum buys enough Pringles at Christmas time to feed an army. Let’s go eat them,’ Damian suggests.

  ‘OK,’ I say with a smile. ‘You feeling OK about being here?’

  I’m proud of him for coming.

  ‘Let’s have that conversation tomorrow,’ he suggests. ‘Once Super Si has shown his face. That’s when you’ll see them in all their glory.’

  I follow Damian downstairs. He bypasses the living room to head into the kitchen where, sure enough, there are supermarket stock levels of Pringles.

  We sit at the kitchen table, eat crisps and chat about work but, now that we’re here, I can’t help but worry that I’ve talked him into doing the wrong thing.

  31

  Have you ever woken up and not had a clue where you were? Well, talk to me when you’ve done it in a bunk bed, because there’s something so terrifying about waking up feeling as if you’re in a wooden box. Honestly, it was like something fresh out of A Christmas Carol, waking up thinking I was in a coffin, then remembering my ghost of Christmas future hoveri
ng above me. Not that a life working with Damian would be all that bad, but I don’t want to be an assistant forever.

  You don’t realise how much takeaway there is from the Christmas movies you watch as a kid. I’m not talking about learning home-protection tips from Home Alone – especially seeing as though I put my dad in A & E when I was nine, with some well-intentioned but unfortunately placed baubles on the floor by the living-room window. I’m talking about films like A Christmas Carol and It’s a Wonderful Life. Films that take the most wonderful time of year and turn it into a time for taking stock of just what kind of shape your life is in. It’s just a coincidence that my own deep-dive into the state of my life has occurred during the Christmas period, and that my fresh start will coincide with the start of a new year.

  I can’t stop thinking about the choices I’m making. Before Christmas I was so sure of what I should do. I wanted a fresh start with my dream job. Work I would enjoy. Hours that would allow me to have a life too. Damian was driving me crazy and I knew I had to quit for my own good but then… well, since Christmas, things have been different.

  He seems more chilled out, softer. More fun to be around. Not only that, but he isn’t disturbing me when I’m on a date or on the toilet – he’s pretty much self-sufficient. Other than asking me to come here with him – which I really can’t blame him for now that I’ve met his family – he hasn’t asked anything of me. I didn’t realise at first but now that I have, I can’t stop thinking about how much he’s changed. The Damian I have known for the past year has always been so wound up, always freaking out about work, no idea what direction he was going, so indecisive about so many things. And then there’s his impossible-to-understand love life. All of these things seem to have just vanished. He’s on track with his work, he loves what he’s doing, he’s having fun. He even looks different. Being happy suits him. His brooding look might be what attracts most women to him but his easy smile and the cheeky twinkle in his eye are so much more attractive to me. And that’s a problem in itself because I've stopped looking at him as if he’s an annoying boss; I’ve started looking at him as if he’s a man again.

  I was relieved when I woke up this morning and he was already up and out of the room – although I was slightly mortified about the thought of him seeing me asleep, because who knows what they look like when they’re asleep? Maybe I look like an angelic beauty, maybe I look like an ugly demon. I’m just going to hope it’s not the latter.

  I headed downstairs where I found him sitting in a reclining chair watching TV with his mum. She was wrapped up in a fluffy dressing down, sipping tea from the biggest mug I have ever seen.

  ‘Morning, babe,’ she said brightly before her eyes snapped straight back to the TV. ‘Help yourself to whatever you want for brekkie.’

  Damian jumped up, saying he’d get me something, ushering me into the kitchen.

  ‘Breakfast here is self-service,’ he joked. ‘My mum is not like your mum at all.’

  His dad was already at work when I got up. It’s been a long time since Damian paid a visit to the family business so that’s where we’re headed now.

  We’re walking down a street on what feels like a bizarrely warm day for December. Christmases just never seem to feel that cold these days, which is good, but probably not a great sign for the world.

  ‘So keep in mind, this is the family business,’ Damian says. ‘My dad’s dad worked there, so did his, et cetera et cetera. I was supposed to work there, but it never, ever appealed to me. Even if I didn’t want to take photos, there’s no way I would have ever wanted to work there.’

  ‘What sort of family business could a person feel so strongly against?’ I wonder out loud.

  ‘That kind,’ Damian says.

  I glance across the road at Banks and Sons Butchers.

  ‘I’m surprised he hasn’t had the “s” removed from “sons”, given my absence,’ he says. ‘Come on, let’s get this over with.’

  Banks and Sons Butchers looks exactly how a butcher’s shop should look. A small, single-level, detached building with a red and white striped canopy outside. The window is part of the counter, displaying different cuts of meats, pies, sausage rolls – I could really go for a sausage roll right now.

  Leaning over to pick something up is a tall, skinny man with the trademark Banks family looks. He’s wearing the full butcher’s gear but I can just about see short brown hair poking out from under his dorky white hat. I know he’s younger than Damian, but he looks quite a lot younger. Maybe he’s had an easier life – or one that is a lot less fun, at least. I’d heard Damian was quite the bad boy in his twenties but there’s no sign of that man any more. Perhaps there never was – he does seem to be preoccupied with how he is perceived, so maybe he created that image, or maybe he killed it off. Maybe it’s a bit of both?

  As soon as the man sees us he starts waving wildly through the glass before beckoning us inside.

  ‘That your brother?’ I ask.

  ‘That’s Super Si,’ he tells me. ‘Oh, and that’s Nikki and Stella at the counter.’

  By the time we're through the door Si is on the customer side of the counter, waiting to give his brother a big hug.

  ‘Damo,’ he says. ‘What a nice surprise! What are you doing here?’

  ‘Didn’t Dad tell you I was coming?’ Damian asks.

  ‘I thought I’d leave it a surprise,’ Ray replies with a big smile. ‘It was certainly a surprise for us.’

  ‘And this must be your lady,’ Si says, hugging me too, as if we’re old friends.

  ‘Nope,’ his dad says with a chuckle from behind the counter. ‘Just his friend.’

  ‘It’s 2020,’ Si says with a shrug. ‘Man, I can’t believe you’re here. Come see Stella.’

  Damian is right, Stella really is the cutest baby I’ve ever seen. She has the chubbiest little cheeks and the brightest eyes. She’s smiling and making those cute little noises babies make.

  ‘She’s gorgeous,’ Damian says. ‘More like her mum than her goofy dad.’

  ‘OK, Lothario,’ Si says. ‘And you know Nikki.’

  ‘Hi, Nikki,’ Damian says. He turns to me. ‘This is Sadie. Sadie, this is everyone.’

  ‘Lovely to meet you,’ I say.

  ‘Don’t you mean meat you?’ Ray laughs. ‘M-E-A-T.’

  God, Damian was right, his dad cracks terrible dad jokes too.

  ‘Look at your hair,’ Nikki says. ‘It’s so long. Don’t you sit on it?’

  ‘Oh, all the time,’ I reply.

  Nikki has a wavy brown-to-blonde ombre do that just passes her shoulders.

  ‘I’d love to be able to sit on my hair,’ she says with a sigh. ‘The only thing I sit on is the occasional baby toy by mistake and, frankly, it’s usually the highlight of my day.’

  OK, I really like this one.

  I glance around the room. There is a series of certificates and awards on the wall behind the counter. And then there’s the big, framed photo of Ray and Si with an arm around each other, giving a big thumbs up outside the shop. It’s not just a photo, it’s a newspaper front page – must be from the local rag – with the headline: Like Father, Like Son. I catch Damian staring at it.

  ‘So you’re going to be at the New Year’s Eve party?’ Si says. ‘Both of you?’

  ‘We are,’ Damian says.

  ‘That’s great, that’s so great,’ Si says before turning back to me. ‘We never see this one. He thinks he’s too good for us now, huh, Mr Big Shot?’

  He’s saying this in a really friendly, jokey way but it just feels so awkward, and I can see it’s annoying Damian, even though he tries to laugh it off.

  ‘Sadie, let me get you some things to try,’ Si says. ‘One of our award-winning sausage rolls maybe?’

  Oh, he might be a bit of a dick to his brother, but he is reading my mind.

  ‘That would be lovely,’ I say.

  ‘OK, I might not have had any plans for Christmas, but I could definitely be at some fan
cy New Year’s party instead of taking passive-aggressive remarks from this lot,’ Damian whispers to me. ‘So could you. Don’t you want to party with – oh, God, I don’t even know who is cool any more – the Angels and the Hunters of the world?’

  I wonder if he said it like that because it sounds good or if there’s some other reason he’s purposefully not saying Lottie’s name.

  ‘Oh, I’m not sure any of that lot want to see me ever again,’ I say. ‘And I doubt they have sausage rolls like that – oh my God, it’s massive.’

  ‘The biggest and the best for miles,’ Si says.

  ‘I’m going to show Sadie the park,’ Damian says. ‘Mind if we take it to go?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Si says. ‘Loads to do here, haven’t we, Dad?’

  ‘Loads,’ Ray says. ‘We’re a man down.’

  ‘Oh, rea…’ Damian's voice tapers off when he realises the man down is him. ‘See you both later.’

  ‘See you at the party, Sadie,’ Nikki calls after me.

  ‘Yeah, see you then,’ I call back. I give Stella a little wave too.

  We’re only a few metres down the road when Damian starts.

  ‘You know what, I’m glad we came, and I’m glad you’re with me,’ he says, not sounding all that glad. ‘Because you can tell me if I’m imagining it. Do they make me feel bad or do I just feel bad?’

  ‘Oh, God, I can’t answer that,’ I tell him.

  ‘Can’t or won’t?’

  ‘It sounds like there’s a lot going on,’ I reason. We wander into a cute little park and walk along the edge of a pond. It’s beautiful here, with a really nice family atmosphere. The place is full of people walking off their inevitable Christmas weight gain.

  ‘Like Si saying I think I’m better than them,’ Damian says. ‘I don’t think that at all. So they’re a little rough around the edges, so what? I’m not embarrassed about where I come from. I’m from a working-class family. But the system isn’t made to favour us. And the art industry definitely isn’t an industry dominated by the working class. I went to Oxford and I felt like I didn’t belong there. I grew up down the road – it doesn’t matter; I didn’t feel like I sounded right, or looked right, so I changed… but not because I was ashamed. I just changed. I blended into my environment.’