at Earls Court …’ She started to sniffle a bit. ‘And he didn’t come round until the end of Football Focus! When it was too late to go!’
I stared at her. ‘Are you bonkers? You can’t take him to the Homes and Houses Exhibition after two months. You can’t ever take him to the Homes and Houses Exhibition. Jesus! You’re going to have to stop reading the bloody Daily Mail. Anyway, there was this bloke at the party who I thought quite liked me, right, but he went off with my best mate. And I can’t fancy him anyway, because my boyfriend is terrific and I’m completely in love with him. But he’s – the first boy, not my boyfriend – trying to sabotage his brother’s wedding and he wants me to help him. Apart from which, he’s really nice. But, obviously, I’m in love with my boyfriend. But I’m really pissed off that the first bloke slept with my mate. Almost like I was jealous – if I got jealous, which, really, I don’t. So, what do you think I should do?’
She stared at me, mouth open.
‘Apart from take them both to the Homes and Houses Exhibition and see which one can find the hardest-wearing carpet?’
Unbelievably, she had tears welling up again.
‘I only wanted to look at cushions. Cushions aren’t too committed, are they?’
Arrgh! This was it. I was going to have to phone the Samaritans and ask them. Although, knowing my luck, they’d only give me lip or be completely distracted. I put on my martyred expression and turned towards Janie in a saintly fashion.
‘Ookaay. So, first of all, why wouldn’t you let him go to the rugby? He’s a boy. Boys need rugby. Believe me, I know.’
She blinked at me. ‘Do you let your boyfriend go?’
‘Sure!’
‘And it’s OK?’
I reflected on this for a bit. I didn’t want to say: Well, apart from the beating and being insulting to strippers and throwing up on yourself and sleeping rough …
‘Sure!’ I said. God, if he would only hurry up and leave her, so I could talk about my problems for a change.
‘You know what you should do, dolls,’ said Cockney Boy, who had somehow been managing to colour in and listen to our conversation at the same time. ‘You should both learn to play rugby, yeah? Then you birds can run around the pitch yourself, getting all covered in mud and stuff. That way everyone will be happy – the blokes can watch the rugby, and you’d be, roight, playin’ …’
We both turned and stared at him.
‘You spent an awful long time alone in your bedroom as a teenager, didn’t you?’ I asked him.
‘No,’ he pouted. ‘No, I didn’t.’
‘Day after day, just staring at the wall, picking your spots and listening to your Phil Collins albums.’
‘Oh, shut up.’
‘Dreaming of the day Linda Lusardi comes past and accidentally breaks down in front of your little Cockney house.’
He held up his arms and walked off. ‘I don’t have to listen to this.’
‘Oh, Steve, Steve, thank you for fixing my car … what can I, Linda Lusardi, possibly do for you in return?’
He turned at the door and flicked me a V-sign. But he was smiling a little bit. I hoped.
I had three messages. One was from Fran, wanting to know what to wear to Amanda’s hen night. If she thought she was going to that, she had another think coming. In fact, neither was I, given that I liked both my eyes the way they were, thank you.
The second was Alex, who had ‘just called to say good morning, pumpkin.’ He’d been terribly soppy since Saturday. Which was a good thing, clearly, although slightly unusual. Previously, in fact, unheard of. He sounded practically wimpy!
The third one started oddly. There was a long pause, and it kind of went ‘urrr’. Then a throat was cleared noisily, and then apologized for. I realized who it was.
‘Angus,’ I said into the phone, even though it was only a message. ‘Don’t worry. It’s only me. Yes, I do think you’re a plonker, but that’s OK. I don’t mind.’
‘Erm, hullo there, ehm, this is Angus. Umm, Angus McConnald.’
Ah, that Angus.
‘So, really, Ah just wondered how you were going after Saturday night, and, ehmm, whether you wanted to go to lunch or something to talk about, you know … just for a chat … I won’t talk about the wedding or anything …’ There was a pause on the answerphone. ‘Well, maybe a bit about the wedding … They can’t … Oh God. Well, anyway … give me a ring on 555 2127. Sorry, 0171 555 2127. Poncey sodding English codes. Right. Sorry. OK. Bye.’
He wasn’t going to let this alone, I could tell. Neither would Fran. I kind of wished they’d leave me out of it, but I hated being left out of things. Also, something in me wanted to see him again. I didn’t phone him back right away, but I wrote his number in my address book in ink.
‘We’ve been invited,’ went on Fran, ‘so, you know, we turn up and do something. The Hensterminators.’
‘That’s not even funny.’
‘Maybe we could get that stripper to turn up at Quagli’s.’
We’d met for a council of war. Or rather, Fran had come over to try and get me to do stuff, and Alex was at the flat anyway. I’d told Fran what Angus had said at the stag night, and she was excited at the potential for devilment, and more convinced than ever that we were in the service of the right by trying to bugger things up, even a bit. I wasn’t quite so sure. Alex was reading The Sunday Times and couldn’t give a toss.
The phone rang. I picked it up, then put my hand over the receiver and popped my head round the living-room door.
‘It’s Angus!’ I hissed to Fran. Two phone calls in two days, I was thinking. I internally hugged myself with glee. I knew I was right. I’d thought maybe he had a little crush on me. Would have to be pretty little, though, for him to have copped off with Fran so quickly. I hated the nineties. A bit of courtly love would not have gone amiss. He should have worshipped me for about ten or fifteen years and then been happy with a mere flower, or something.
Fran shrugged.
‘Well,’ I said, ‘shall I ask him to come over?’
‘Why on earth would I mind?’
‘I don’t know … ehm, he’s seen you from the inside?’
Alex looked up from the sports pages with his eyebrows raised, but then he’d known Fran for a while.
‘Honestly, it’s not a big deal,’ she said. ‘I’d like to see him. He’s nice. And he can join in our plan.’
‘Hmm.’ I wasn’t sure how closely I wanted those two working together.
‘Hey!’
