‘Yes.’
‘That’s offside.’
‘Is it?’
‘Yeah, you don’t say that to someone who’s split up with their fiancé, do you? Supposing you had gynae issues or something and that was behind the whole break-up?’
Ivor makes a stifled groan.
‘What?’ Mindy demands. ‘I’m serious. What if Rach had said “My insides are all wrong”? “I’ve got an incompetent cervix”? What would they have done then?’
I nearly spit my Brussels sprout out.
‘They’d wish very much she hadn’t said it, like I wish you hadn’t?’ Ivor says.
‘An incompetent cervix is a thing, my aunt had it! When she had my cousin Ruksheen. Had to be in bed for, like, three months. So not worth the trauma, I tell you. Ruksheen’s a grotty skank.’
‘Amazing,’ Ivor says.
‘What?’
‘Rachel’s dinner party to a family member’s fanny in one smooth move.’
‘Thanks for your concern,’ I tell her, once my laughter subsides.
‘People take advantage of your sense of humour,’ Mindy says, staunchly.
‘How’re you?’ I ask Ivor.
‘OK thanks. Katya’s finally going, she’s handed me her notice. Travelling in South America, off by the end of the month.’
‘Ding dong, the vegan witch is dead,’ Mindy says, smoothing her peacock-blue skirt over her legs.
‘Ah, she’s not that bad really,’ Ivor says, rubbing an eye.
‘Oh Ivor!’ Mindy wails. ‘How often have we heard Katya this, Katya that? “Katya threw my Peperamis in the bin!” “Katya nailed an African fertility symbol to my wall and made big holes in the plaster!” “Katya made me watch a PETA video about ocelot farming and I couldn’t sleep for a week!”’
‘I don’t think I said it was a week,’ Ivor says, glancing at Caroline and myself.
‘Now she’s going, it’s “she’s not that bad really”. You’re such a wuss.’
‘All I’m saying is, she’s easier to tolerate with an end in sight.’
‘That end could’ve come sooner if—’ Mindy breaks off as Ivor mimes a sock-puppet talking movement with one hand.
‘Are you going to be seeing more of Ben and his wife then?’ Caroline turns to me.
Difficult question. It’s time to play the ace.
‘Maybe. I’ve got a date with Simon.’
‘Simon that I met?’
‘Yep. Lawyer friend of Ben,’ I add, for Mindy and Ivor’s benefit.
‘That’s great! What brought about this change of heart?’ Caroline asks, almost putting her cutlery down in surprise.
I rather fear anticipation of this reaction is what brought about my change of heart. If everyone’s watching what happens with Simon, no one’s scrutinising any other parts of my existence. Misdirection. For my next trick, I’ll need an assistant.
‘Spirit of adventure,’ I offer, vaguely.
‘This is great, Rach.’
‘What’s he like?’ Mindy asks.
‘Yeah, give us the vital stats, what weight can he bench press, who’d play him in his biopic?’ Ivor rattles off, looking at Mindy.
‘Tall, blond, posh, confident, good at cutting remarks. Uhm, Christian Bale with a bleach job? Rupert Penry Jones for TV?’
‘A catch,’ Caroline concludes, through a mouthful of roast chicken.
Do I want to catch Simon? I’m pretty sure I don’t.
‘I know it’s soon but you have to seize opportunities,’ she adds, after swallowing.
‘Yeah, that’s what I thought,’ thinking, I didn’t think that at all. I remember Simon grabbing my elbow as I left, murmuring: ‘Can I see you again?’ Yes seemed the only polite answer. Also, it was hardly unflattering to have someone who gave that ‘only going for the best of the best’ speech after me, even if I’m hoping most of that dastardly bastard routine was bluster.
‘When are you going on this date?’
‘Don’t know. He asked, said he’d call me. I still think we’re a wildly improbable pairing but no harm in confirming it, I suppose.’
‘That’s the spirit.’ Satisfied, Caroline sips from her glass and looks approvingly round the room. ‘You know, this place is almost worth the money. Not quite, but almost. Even if Rupa’s cupboards are about as bare of essentials as our student dump.’
‘Is now the time to ask why the gravy is in a vase?’ Ivor says.
31
The embezzling payphone in our student house wasn’t the first sign our landlord was a south Manchester Fagin. Our detached des-res in Fallowfield had been advertised as a three bedroom – we were without Ivor, who was on a year out in industry.
At the end of the viewing Caroline asked ‘What’s in here?’, trying the handle of a door downstairs. The landlord looked as nervous as if she was a new bride trying to breach Bluebeard’s tower.
‘That’s Derek’s room,’ the landlord said, as if every deal came with a Derek. ‘He’s staying on. That’s why the rent’s so low.’
The three of us exchanged a look. Not that low.
‘Derek.’ The landlord rapped with his knuckles. Derek produced himself – a hulking, greasy kind of character, and grunted a hello. He was an astrophysics post-grad, which was supposed to cover why he had a telescope on his windowsill.
We made our excuses and promptly left, and over lattes at the nearest café, agreed there was no way we were moving into a house which came with a loner perma-lodger. Then we got more lattes, and carrot cake, and started discussing how spacious the rooms were, how many damp-smelling terraces we’d trudged round, and that Derek didn’t seem that objectionable, if you broadened your mind and held your nose. We called the landlord back and said we’d take it.
Luckily, Derek seemed to lead a largely nocturnal existence and spent most weekends visiting his family in Whitby. Where Dracula landed. No further questions, your honour.
He was away on the night of our first noteworthy social event after we moved in, a Halloween party at the university union. I’d spent the day with a stomach bug, throwing up on an hourly basis, getting a chance to closely examine all the corners our cleaning rota didn’t reach in the bathroom. I felt deeply aggrieved that I’d not drunk any alcohol to get in this state, and the bug was about to prevent me trying.
Downstairs, a sexy vampire and a brown-skinned witch in stripy tights, balancing a bumper-sized plastic bottle of scrumpy on her hip, gazed at me as I limped into the hallway to say goodbye.
Caroline put the back of her pleasantly cool, black nail-varnished hand against my forehead.
‘Yoor absholutely burwing ug.’
‘What?’
She removed her plastic fangs. ‘You’re absolutely burning up. Want me to stay?’
‘No, I’ll be OK.’
‘We’ll have one for you!’ Mindy said, hoisting the cider and adjusting the brim of her witch hat.
I