‘The dancers! You can’t kid a kidder, darling. Are they gorgeous? Do you get to talk to them?’
‘I suppose so. A bit. Obviously we can’t just butt in and pretend we’re their best mates, just like in any job. But, you know, we’re working together so we have to talk to each other about some stuff. And then of course there’s the bar …’
‘I knew it! You’re partying with them! Please tell me you’ve met Lars. Is he gorgeous? And what about that cutie Jared?’
‘Yes, I’ve met both of them. And yes, they’re both gorgeous. I’ve probably talked to Lars more than Jared though. He even knows my name …’
‘I don’t believe it, I don’t believe it. I am going to have to get a glass of water.’ I heard the kitchen tap running.
‘Well, I say he knows my name, but he also knows my shoe size.’
Much to Jen’s enormous pleasure, I told her the story of Lars, the shoe and the puddle. She was hooting with delight, and before I knew it, I was doubled up with laughter on that park bench. The Fifteen-minutes-ago Me would have walked by and hated the Now Me.
‘So you’re having a ball? It’s everything you hoped for?’
‘Yes, it’s amazing.’
‘And how’s London treating you? Have you got used to city living?’
‘Well, I’m still at Natalie and Lloyd’s …’
‘Ah. Do I sense a problem?’
‘Yeah, a bit.’
‘You were never going to be able to stay there forever.’
‘No, I know, it’s not that. I don’t think they’re about to sling me onto the street or anything, it’s just that I think I have annoyed Natalie with my messiness in the flat. And now everything I try to do just makes it worse. I want to find a place of my own now, but I don’t want to seem ungrateful, like I’m running away, either.’
‘You’ve got to take control, sweetie. Tell her the truth. She only wants you to be happy.’
‘She wants me to be happy and she wants her carpets to be clean.’
‘Of course she does, she worked hard for that house. But she’s not crazy, she’s just house-proud. And she’s also used to her own space. I know dealing with this kind of life crap isn’t as much fun as the foxtrot, but you’ve got to get a grip of it before it gets a grip of you.’
‘I know. I just feel as if everyone else knows what they’re doing so much more than I do.’
‘Oh honey,’ Jen roared with laughter. ‘No one knows what they’re doing in life, especially the adults. We just get better at hiding that. Now then, you’re going to start looking for your own place, and you’re going to go back and give Natalie a big hug. Can we get back to hearing about that gorgeous Lars now please?’
I drained the last of my coffee, told her about Lars’s mesmerizingly low-cut training T-shirts and headed back to Natalie’s, stopping to get two extra croissants on the way. As ever, Jen had made me feel as if the world were there for the taking, if only I bothered to take it.
When I got back to the flat it was silent and Natalie and Lloyd’s door was closed, so I put the croissants on a plate and left it on the kitchen table with a note.
I’m so sorry about the hair straighteners. I promise to pay for any damage. Please let me organise dinner tonight?
Then I ran a bath, complete with a generous splash of the bath oil that I had been given for Christmas the previous year. There had never been any point in using it when I was still living at home, as mum’s potions and products would always have drowned out the delicate rose scent, and if truth be told, I had been saving it for a romantic rendezvous. But, inspired by Jen’s words about grabbing life by the scruff of its neck, I decided Saturday morning was as good a time to indulge as any, and moments later I was luxuriating in Natalie’s lovely bathroom, flicking through a magazine and listening to the radio. When I finally got out, I made sure I cleaned up, immaculately wiping the mirrors and neatly folding the bathmat over the side of the tub. I was so fastidious I could have committed a murder in there and Natalie would never have known.
I was wandering back to the spare room when I caught sight of Lloyd in the kitchen, munching on one of the croissants and reading my note.
‘Hey, Lil Sis,’ he said, with a wink. I loved Lloyd, but I hated it when he called me that. It made me feel like a toddler, hair in bunches, who needed help with my laces.
‘Hey,’ I replied, clutching my toiletries to my chest, trying not to get any drips on the kitchen floor as I stood in the doorway.
‘So you’re taking us out to dinner tonight then?’
Yikes. I hadn’t actually meant that I was going to take them for dinner. There was no way I could afford that. I had intended the offer to be one of a curry or pizza in front of the telly. But what could I do now? Refuse to take them to dinner, even though I was living in their house, rent-free?
I chewed the inside of my mouth, then replied. ‘It’s the least I can do. What do you reckon?’
‘Well, I’m up for it. Never say no to food. Natalie’s just getting up, let’s ask her in a minute.’
What I really wanted was to try and get Natalie on her own, to explain the misunderstanding. But my hopes were dashed when she appeared behind my shoulder.
‘What are you asking me?’ She kissed the side of my head and manoeuvred around me into the kitchen. Lloyd passed her the note. She picked up the other croissant, clearly assuming he had bought it, and read. Seconds later she looked up.
‘Awww. Thanks, Chicken. That would be lovely. And listen, sorry about my note last night. I was just really tired, and in a bit of a crabby mood. I should probably not have left it out like that, and just spoken to you this morning.’
She was being so sweet. I realised I might have got myself into a right state for no real reason. I hadn’t had my first pay cheque yet; I barely had enough money to pay for my tube fares all week, let alone for a meal for three in swanky South West London. But I knew there was no real way to get out of it, so I hugged Natalie and said ‘Great. Just let me know where’s good,’ and headed back to the spare bedroom.
I flopped onto the bed, wondering how I was going to negotiate this dinner without making everyone concerned feel worse. My phone buzzed on the duvet next to me: a text message. I picked it up and looked at the screen.
BABE! I am in town for the weekend. You around this afternoon?Text me up.xJ
It was Julia, one of my best mates from college. Probably the coolest friend I’ve ever had, she was currently in Milan doing a placement as part of her BA. She was one of the girls I had missed the most over the interminable Surrey Summer, and I was thrilled to hear from her.
How come you’re back? Where are you? Can’t wait to see you. xx
After pressing send I didn’t let go of the phone, hoping that Julia would get back to me as fast as I had to her. I was in luck.
Coolio. Soho? An hour? Jx See you there. xx
Leaving my dinner apprehensions behind, half an hour later I was on the tube, whizzing up to Tottenham Court Road, my head swimming with all of the gossip I had. We met in an Italian coffee shop on Dean Street that we had been going to ever since I began visiting her during my university holidays. Julia, who had grown up in London, seemed to have known about places like this all of her life. I was sure that her grandmother was one of the original generation of post-war coffee-shop girls who had spent her evenings necking expressos and dancing the jive with men in immaculate suits. We ordered sandwiches and perched on stools at the shiny 1950s laminated bar.
‘What the hell are you doing