My Not So Perfect Life(25)

“Hi,” I say. “Did you want something?”

“What do you do?” she asks chattily. “Like your job and that.”

“Oh! Well, I’m in branding. Creating images and logos for products. It’s really interesting,” I add, in case this is my chance to provide Inspiration To The Younger Generation. “It’s hard work but rewarding.”



“D’you know anyone in the music industry?” Sadiqua continues, as though I haven’t spoken. “Because me and my mate Layla, we’ve got a band and we made a demo.” She produces a CD from her pocket. “Layla’s uncle made these. We just need to get them out there.”

“That sounds great!” I say encouragingly. “Well done.”

“So can you take one?” She thrusts it at me. “Get it heard?”

Get it heard? By whom?

“I’m not in the music industry,” I explain. “Sorry—”

“But branding, that’s music, innit?”

“Well, not really—”

“But music in ads?” she persists. “Who does the music in ads? Someone does all that and they need sounds, don’t they?” She blinks at me with her blue-green eyes. “They’re looking for new sounds?”

You have to admire her persistence. And she’s right, someone does do the music in ads, even if I have no idea who it is.

“OK. Look. I’ll see what I can do.” I take the CD from her and put it in my bag. “So, good luck with it all—”

“D’you know any model agents?” she carries on without missing a beat. “My auntie says I should be a model, only I’m not tall enough, but why does that matter in a photo? Like, they got Photoshop, so why does it matter? Why d’you need to be tall and thin? They’ve got Photoshop. Just use Photoshop, know what I mean? Photoshop.” She looks at me expectantly.

“Right,” I say warily. “Actually, I don’t know much about modeling either. Sorry, I do really need to keep walking….”

Sadiqua nods with resigned disappointment, as though it’s only what she expected of me. Then, easily keeping pace with my stride, she reaches into her pocket.



“You want some jewelry? I make jewelry.” She pulls out a tangle of beaded bracelets and thrusts them at me. “Fiver each. You buy them for your mates and that.”

I can’t help bursting into laughter.

“Not today,” I say. “But maybe another day. Aren’t you supposed to be collecting for your community center?”

“Oh, that.” She gives a philosophical shrug. “That’s gonna close, anyway. I’m just collecting because, like, we’re all collecting, but we won’t save it or nothing.”

“You might!” I say. “What does it do, exactly?”

“All sorts. Like, they give kids breakfast and that. I always used to have my breakfast there, ’cos my mum never—” Sadiqua stops dead, and her bouncy veneer falters for an instant. “They give you Corn Flakes and that. But it costs money. Corn Flakes every day costs money, dunnit?”

I look at her silently for a moment. I like this girl. She’s funny and energetic and actually very beautiful, even without Photoshop.

“Give me a few more flyers,” I say, and take them from her. “Maybe I can help you raise some money.”

—

At the office I find an old CD drive in the cupboard, so I plug it into my computer and listen to Sadiqua’s CD. Obviously I’m hoping that it’ll blow me away and that I’ve discovered a star. Sadly, it’s just two girls singing a Rihanna song and then dissolving into giggles. But I decide I’ll still do what I can with it, and I’ll definitely try to raise money for her community center.

I don’t have any specific plans, or even ideas really, and I’m certainly not planning to bring it up with anyone. But then, on my way out that evening, when I see Alex waiting for the same lift as me, I find myself panicking for things to say. It’s gone 9:00 P.M.—I had a stack of stuff to catch up on—and I didn’t expect to see anyone. Let alone him.



I haven’t seen him since the carousel yesterday, but of course he’s crossed my mind about ninety-five thousand times. As I approach, I can feel the blood moving to my face and a horrible awkwardness rising up my throat. How are you supposed to talk to an attractive man you think you might have a thing for, anyway? I’ve lost every natural instinct I ever had. My face feels frozen. My hands feel flappy. As for eye contact, forget it. I have no idea what the appropriate level of eye contact is right now.

“Hi,” he says, smiling, as I reach the lift doors. “You’re working late.”

“Hi.” I smile back. “I had some stuff to do.” And I know the onus isn’t on me to continue the conversation, but as I mentioned, I’m panicking. So before I can stop myself, I blurt out: “I’ve got a really great cause I’d like to put forward as the company charity.”

This isn’t strictly true. I don’t know it’s a great cause—I only have Sadiqua’s word for it. But right now I need a topic of conversation.

“Oh yes?” says Alex, looking interested.

“It’s a community center near where I live. In Catford. It does breakfast clubs, that kind of thing, but it’s closing down. Cuts, you know…” I pull the leaflet out of my bag and hand it to him. “This is it.”