She.
I walked slowly down Portobello Road, carrying a loaf of bread, it was a full fruit market day and I wanted to make the most of the spring fruits that would be on sale. As I went by a television shop I caught a glimpse of her, her being the Ashley Davies, of course, I've seen her films and always thought she was, well, fabulous but, you know, million miles from the world I live in. Which is here in Notting Hill not a bad place to be.
So this is where I, Spencer Carlin, spend my days and years in this small village in the middle of a city in a house with a blue door with my lodger of a brother Glen.
"Glen!" He appears wearing only shorts.
"Hey, you couldn't help me with an incredibly important decision, could you?" Looking at me expectantly.
"This is important in comparison to, let's say, whether they should cancel third world debt?"
"That's right -- I'm at last going out on a date with the great Janine and I just want to be sure I've picked the right t-shirt." He was so lame.
"What are the choices?"
"Well... wait for it..." He pulls on a t-shirt "First there's this one..."
The t-shirt was white with a horrible looking plastic alien coming out of it, jaws open, blood everywhere. It says 'I Love Blood.' Seriously I don't know how we are related sometimes.
"Yes -- might make it hard to strike a really romantic note." I say as serious as I can.
"Point taken." He heads back up the stairs... talks as he changes... "I suspect you'll prefer the next one." He re-enters in a white t-shirt, with a large arrow, pointing down to his flies, and saying, 'Get It Here.' "Cool, huh?"
"Yes -- she might think you don't have true love on your mind." Finding this quite amusing now I decide to go with it.
"Wouldn't want that..." Back up he goes "Okay, just one more." He comes down wearing it. Lots of hearts, saying, 'You're the most beautiful woman in the world.'
"Well, yes, that's perfect. Well done." It was still overly childish and stupid looking but it was the best you probably get out of Glen.
"Thanks. Great. Wish me luck." He said as he turns and walks upstairs proudly. I saw that on the back of the t-shirt, also printed in big letters, is written 'Fancy a fuck?'
"Good luck." I said sniggering to myself he would need it.
And so it was just another hopeless Wednesday, as I set off through the market to work, this is work, by the way, my little travel bookshop... A small unpretentious store... named 'The Travel Book Co.' which, well, sells travel books and, to be frank with you, doesn't always sell many of those. I took it on after my mother before she passed always trying to please her and never succeeding after admitting I was gay, we never had quite the same relationship we once did, so here I am still trying to please her.
It is a small shop, slightly chaotic, bookshelves everywhere, with little secret bits round corners with even more books. Carmen, my sole employee, is waiting enthusiastically. She is very keen, an un-crushable optimist ever since I took her off the streets and gave her the job, perhaps without cause. What can I say I liked her. I walked into the back and started to crunch the numbers.
"Classic, absolutely classic. Profit from major sales push -- minus $347." I muttered not realising Carmen was in the doorway.
"Shall I go get a cappuccino? Ease the pain." She smiled.
"Yes, better get me a half. All I can afford."
"I get your logic. Demi-capu coming up." She salutes and bolts out the door as someone walked in.
I looked up casually. "Can I help you?"
She turned to me, it was Ashley Davies, the biggest rock star in the world here in my shop. She looked every bit the most divine, subtle, beautiful woman on earth I had ever seen.
"No, thanks. I'll just look around." She said very self-assured and self-contained.
She wanders over to a shelf as I watch her -- and picks out a quite smart coffee table book on Turkey. I knew first hand that that book was a load of rubbish.
"That book's really not good – just in case, you know, browsing turned to buying. You'd be wasting your money."
"Really?" She seemed genuinely surprised that I had offered her advice.
"Yes. This one though is... very good." I offer her one that I think might help if she wants Turkey "I think the man who wrote it has actually been to Turkey, which helps. There's also a very amusing incident with a kebab.
"Thanks. I'll think about it." She smiled the most beautiful smile I think I had ever seen. Caught in a daze I saw a man stuffing a book down his trousers in the security monitor.
"If you could just give me a second." I feel her eyes on me as I move toward the back of the shop and approach a man in slightly ill-fitting clothes.
"Excuse me." I say politely.
"Yes."
"Bad news. We've got a security camera in this bit of the shop."
"So?" One thing I hated more than thieves was ones that didn't admit it when they were caught.
"So, I saw you put that book down your trousers."
"What book?"
"The one down your trousers." I said pointing.
"I haven't got a book down my trousers." I could see I was getting nowhere.
"Right, well, then we have something of an impasse. I tell you what, I'll call the police and what can I say? If I'm wrong about the whole book-down-the-trousers scenario, I really apologize."
"Okay -- what if I did have a book down my trousers?" Oh here we go…
"Well, ideally, when I went back to the desk, you'd remove book from your trousers, and either wipe it and put it back, or buy it. See you in a sec." I decided to leave him with the decision.
I returned to my desk. In the monitor I see the guy pull the book out of the trousers and put back on the shelves, then drifts out towards the door. I turn back to Ashley.
"Sorry about that..."
"No, that's fine. I was going to steal one myself but now I've changed my mind. Signed by the author, I see." God, beautiful and funny, kill me now.
"Yes, we couldn't stop him. If you can find an unsigned copy, it's worth an absolute fortune." She smiles. Suddenly the thief guy is back again.
"Excuse me." He says to Ashley.
"Yes."
"Can I have your autograph?"
"What's your name?"
"Rufus." She signs his scruffy piece of paper. He tries to read it. "What does it say?"
"Well, that's the signature" she said pointing at the paper "and above, it says 'Dear Rufus – you belong in jail.'"
"Nice one. Would you like my phone number?" I wish this arse would leave.
"Tempting but... no, thank you." She remained polite and spoke softly with a sight sexy huskiness to her voice.
The thief left as she turned back to me. "I think I will try this one." Handing me a $20 note and the book I said was rubbish.
I spoke to her as I dealt with her transaction "Oh, right, on second thoughts maybe it wasn't that bad. Actually it's a sort of masterpiece really. None of those childish kebab stories you get in so many travel books these days. And I'll throw in one of these for free." I was a stuttering mess as I dropped one of the signed books into her bag. "Very useful for lighting fires, wrapping fish, that sort of things."
She looks at me with a slight smile. "Thanks." With that she put her aviators and cap back on and left the shop.
Minutes later Carmen walked back in "Cappuccino as ordered."
"Thanks. I don't think you'll believe who was just in here."
"Who? Someone famous?"
But I decide to keep it quiet and to myself that I had met the most famous rock star ever here in my little shop. "No. No-one -- no-one." Somehow I just couldn't shake her out of my head.