Divan Princess

In the city where I live there's a certain type of drawing room - hard to describe it but I know it when I see it - that's really only complete with a lady in it, a dark-haired, linear lady or perhaps a blonder, plumper one, but any variation on that theme will do; and this lady, whether dark or blond, has something a bit untouched about her, as if glass separates her from the world or as if she herself wears gloves to minimize contact with it. Sometimes she really is wearing gloves, cosmetic ones that keep the hand-cream on her hands but that are still thin enough for her to use a telephone if she has to (though not her touch-screen one unfortunately). On weekday afternoons you'll find her in her drawingroom with the curtains drawn, on a divan within arm's reach of her land-line phone, a rotary-dial antique - all three of them, lady, divan and phone making a picture of timeless elegance. She doesn't work but her husband is paying for her to have therapy for her issues with routine and they both know that sooner or later she'll be ready to share her talents with the world. In the meantime she is taking Paxil for depression, lithium for mood-swings, gotu kola for anxiety and blue-green algae pills because they look pretty. She also imbibes a doctor's cabinet of liquids for detoxifying, sedative and stimulatory purposes. This is her on the phone to her best friend, whom she genuinely adores and who belongs in a different category to her other friends, who are really more like frenemies than friends: 'I'm getting my drawing room re-done in blue I thought you'd approve Yes, there's something about blue Especially light coming in through blue curtains. If the blue is outside you than it's not in you, don't you find that?' 'Darling Harry bought me some more shoes Prada, darling I know, it's tricky not to say it without sounding pretentious but they were and you are you are my darling O sweetness, do you mean that - really and truly? You don't think I use you as a therapist? It's true though, that insight I told you about the other day if Harry had an affair I'd fancy him more than I do when he's just good old Harry - but that's just how people are, even the normal ones. I'm sure he'd feel the same about me. That's why I'm having lunch with that Life Coach guy tomorrow not because I'm planning to have an affair with him to excite Harry but ' Soft noises come from the receiver. The friend, a free-lance writer anchored a bit more securely to reality than the drawing-room lady is, is remonstrating with her. The drawing-room lady listens then says humbly, 'I suppose Alright, I'll cancel lunch I promise Yes, I read the Freudian link you sent me, it was fascinating. Oral fixation, that's me down to a T. I feel about fourteen inside but I can see that actually realistically I'm more like a six-month-old baby I'm not beating myself up, it's the truth Well, for a start I'm always putting things in my mouth, then also I can't stop babbling on the phone to you like an infant to its mobile and also I notice I have my feet off the ground whenever I'm on the divan, which is most of the time it's like it's my cot. A baby before it's weaned and can walk and talk, that's me. O, my nail lady's here, I better go. Kisses, my sweetest one - ah, if I were a man ' She hangs up, beckons me over from where I've been standing discreetly back from the doorway. 'Did I keep you waiting while I babbled? Dora should've told me you were here she probably expected you to march in and wrestle me off the phone like she does when she needs something.'

She looks genuinely upset to have kept me waiting. I reassure that I'm in no rush, I was relaxing while I waited for her to finish her phone-call (this isn't a lie, her life is so different from mine that observing her is like watching a soothing nature program about an exotic creature - about Japanese macaques). I ask her if I can open the curtains. 'O yes please would you,' she begs me though she could have opened them anytime if she'd wanted to. I open the curtains. She considers me while I take out my manicure set. 'Do you think I'm terribly spoilt, making someone come all the way to my house just to paint my nails for me?' 'No Madam.' 'It's so sweet that you call me 'Madam', it makes me feel so grown-up. Are you sure you don't think I'm spoilt?' 'No Madam, sensible - most people make mess of the right hand.' She smiles when I say 'Madam' this second time, as if the word is a velvet stroke she can't get enough of. But a moment later she's looking worried again. 'How's Mayumi?' she asks me. 'Mayumi?' 'Yes, did I say it wrong?' 'No, I'm just surprised you remembered her name.' She glows at what she takes as a compliment. 'You speak such superb English, Mercedes, the least I can do is remember your daughter's name. Hey, do you remember that word I taught you last week?' 'Frenemy?' 'That's the one. It's great, isn't it? I have quite a few of those.' 'I hope you'll do what I say and get rid of some of them.' She sighs, looks out of the window, then back at me, her eyes going starry again. 'So how is she Mayumi - after her bad news?' 'She's fine, it turned out to be a false alarm.' 'O.' Her face drops, she is clearly devastated that I don't have a drama to feed to her. 'O. I'm so glad to hear it. So she's definitely not the slightest bit pregnant?' 'Definitely not.' 'So she won't be needing any money for an -' 'No,' I say, shocked, almost dropping the tissue with which I'm cleaning her cuticles. 'Such a relief. It's such a terrible thing for a young girl to go through. I was planning to pay for it myself out of my therapy money - I guess I'll have to carry on with the therapy after all. Hey, is there anything else she'd like that I can pay for a course, a trip something to broaden her horizons?' I thank her but tell her I can't think of anything. 'Have a think about something she might like, Mercedes both of you do.' She settles back against the divan. 'I so want to do something good with my life - be of service in some way. It's true. And the longing gets worse when I see you working so hard and selflessly like you do to bring out the beauty in people. I admire you, I really do. No really, I do. You don't believe me, do you? You don't believe I admire you for doing people a service and I bet you don't believe I also want to do something good with my life.' I assure her that I do believe her. 'On both counts?' she asks me. 'Yes for sure.' 'Thank you, Mercedes.' 'How is that young man you were telling me about the last time?' I ask her after a discreet interval. She brightens up at once.

'Umm, Colin, the life coach?' Technically her 'umm' isn't really a thinking noise but a savouring one, the 'mmm' you make after biting into a freshly-baked pastry. 'Well, Mercedes, I'm having lunch with him tomorrow. He thinks he can sort me out and I think he can too. No, really, that's the only reason I'm seeing him.' She grins at me when she says that; I can't help but grin back. 'He's so focussed,' she says dreamily, forgetting all about her nails. 'Do you know what I mean by that? Like he's got me in his radar screen and he's beaming energy at me - powerful, hot, healing energy. Mmm. That's what if feels like, being around him. If anyone can sort me out it's him. I really believe that.'