into the frosty afternoon.
Fran lived in a practically empty bedsit, about half a mile down the road. It was white, immaculate and had absolutely nothing in it. This wasn’t really a design statement: she had no imagination, and hated the place, which was why she practically lived around my house – it may have been full of psychos, but at least they were company. I set off manfully, stopping for some emergency Diet Coke infusions before I too vomited from a milk overdose. And a beer overdose, I suppose. The main door of the block was lying open as usual, and I made my way upstairs.
‘Yoo hoo!’ I yelled outside the door, banging on it loudly.
‘Rise and shine, sweetie pie. We have BIG time gossip to do, ESPECIALLY you, Ms Yo-Yo Knickers.’
There were sounds from inside, and I could hear someone moving about.
‘Come on!’ I yelled impatiently. ‘I need to find out about you and that skinny little twerp, and tell you about Angus and Fraser and everything.’
There was more noise on the other side of the door – what sounded like someone trying to pull on a pair of trousers, losing their balance, hopping about a bit then crashing over on to the floor.
It suddenly occurred to me that she may not, in fact, be in there alone. I tried to remember what had happened to Johnny McLachlan when he’d returned to the bar. Shit! He must have left and come back here! Argh! I hoped he hadn’t heard me call him a twerp. And she didn’t even know he was married! Or – yikes! – we hadn’t found out what had happened to Charlie. Maybe she’d gone back on her shag-to-death routine for once. Wow, she’d be annoyed. Oh no, the married man or the prick! Too many cocktails.
I leaned into the door.
‘Erm … d’you want me to go away and come back later …?’
It was too late: Fran had already swung the door open. She stood there, looking exhausted, with a man’s shirt on and a towel round her waist. I grimaced.
‘I can go away, you know. It’s no problem.’
‘Hello, Mel,’ she said wearily. ‘No, I suppose it’s OK.’
She drew back her arm from the door, and I entered the fuggy, darkened room – to see, of all people, Angus, looking extremely sheepish indeed, checking the zip on his flies was done up properly.
‘!’ I expostulated.
We stared at each other. He flushed beetroot, and I tried to recover myself.
‘Hi!’ I said brightly, shooting a fierce look at Fran.
‘Hullo,’ said Angus, looking at the floor. He pretended to look at his watch. ‘Ehmmm … I’d better go … I told Fraser I was going to … ehm, help him pick a cravat.’
I nodded slowly. We all stood stock-still, until Fran realized it was her cue to take his shirt off. He practically grabbed it, and buttoned it up at lightning speed.
Fran, refusing to look embarrassed, stood poised in her bra. For a moment, I thought she was going to shake him by the hand and thank him very much for coming, as it were.
Angus left, stuttering. I left it a full half-second and turned round.
‘WHAT the FUCK was that?!!!??’
‘Oh for goodness’ sake, Melanie, no need to get so overexcited.’
‘Overexcited?? Me?? I’m not the one who managed to shag two people in an eight-hour period.’
‘Neither am I, darling. Shall I put the kettle on?’
‘Huh? What on earth is up with you?’
Fran walked around the small room pulling up blinds and opening windows, before putting the coffee maker on. I was standing in the middle of the room, wringing my hands in frustration.
‘Tell me!’ I begged her. ‘I thought it was my job to get drunk and misbehave!’
Fran looked dreamily out of the window until I wanted to kill her. She’d always been fairly mercenary in her dealings with the opposite sex, but this was just too bizarre – first Charlie, then Johnny and now Angus, of all people. My new friend Angus, who, I had to admit to myself, I thought had rather liked me, (1), and (2) I had thought was rather noble.
Finally the coffee was ready and she sat down beside me in her ‘Frankie Says Relax’ T-shirt, which still fitted her.
‘Please, Fran,’ I said, trying to sound calm, ‘just tell me what’s going on. Are you on a special mission from space to sleep with everyone we know?’
She patted me gently on the hand. ‘It’s not what you think.’
‘What, there are animals involved as well?’
‘No.’
‘What then?’
‘Well, you know I was being a lioness?’
‘Oh yes. So in fact there are animals …’
‘Johnny wasn’t quite up to being a lion.’
‘I’m not surprised. You practically ripped his head off.’
‘That is not true.’ She shot me a sharp look. ‘We’d gone outside …’
‘Yeah, to get arrested.’
‘… for a breath of fresh air …’
I snorted.
‘… and before we’d gone two yards, he burst into tears.’
‘Honestly, Frannie, that does not surprise me.’
‘Mel, does anyone ever tell you that you talk too fucking much?’
‘Ehm, yes, actually. Quite a lot. Funny, Alex was saying just the other day that I always talk more when … I’m –’ I saw her thunderstruck face – ‘nervous,’ I finished.
Fran harrumphed. ‘Anyway. He burst into tears and said he hated his wife and his life and his job and I was the nicest thing that had ever happened to him and how depressing everything was and this was the only party he’d been to for eight years and how I had no idea what it was like teaching geography day in day out to a bunch of illiterate animals.’
She paused, waiting for me to comment, but I wasn’t saying anything.
‘We ended up in the bar downstairs, with me having the most boring, sober three hours ever, listening to someone else’s ghastly life.’
‘Why didn’t you escape, and come and find me? I was having a great time.’
‘Every time I made the slightest move, he started weeping into his pint again and saying I was the best friend he’d ever had.’
‘Oh no.’
‘Honestly,
