Читать книгу Shimmer - Amanda Roberts - Страница 9

Chapter 4

It was one of those mornings: you’re only half awake and you roll over, cocooned and cosy, burrowing deeper into the duvet without a care in the world. And then you remember. Something had upset you the night before, only you’re not quite awake enough yet to remember what. You hug the duvet a little tighter, scrunch your eyes shut, and then … yup, it hits you.

I lay there, pretending to myself that I was still asleep, and trying to fool my body into believing that it was still totally relaxed. But it was having none of my tricks and the minute I remembered the snippy tone of the note from Natalie, I felt the nerves knotting in my stomach once again. I curled into as tight a ball as possible, clamped my eyes shut, and tried to block it all out. I needed to concoct a plan that would enable me to be out from under Natalie’s feet for as much of the weekend as I could.

But my older sister is hard to ignore. As I lay there trying to still the anxieties whizzing around in my head, I heard her slippered feet shuffle into the kitchen and her starting to unload the dishwasher. The clanking of the crockery and glasses being put away was followed by the low rumble of the kettle, and finally, the repeated clinks of the teaspoon against mugs as she made tea.

I suppose I knew that she wasn’t actually trying to wake me up. I knew that I had been awake already. But every clink and clank sounded like Morse code. ‘You need to find your own place’, ‘How much more do we have to do for you?’, ‘When are you going to learn to be a proper adult like the rest of us?’ I sighed and rolled over. I could ignore it no more. I needed a plan. And if I had learned one thing that week, it was that plans need coffee. So I pulled on a pair of tracksuit bottoms, and a battered old hoodie that was a favourite for slouching around in, and silently left the flat within five minutes.

Natalie and Lloyd lived in South London near a huge common, which in the crisp, bright autumn air, looked like something from an idealised mobile phone advertisement. There were joggers with matching running kits and spry ponytails which bounced with every step, young dads peering into prams at their unfamiliar newborns, and couples holding hands as they walked through the leaves. All this, and the sun was twinkling down on the lot of them. It was enough to make me want to vomit.

Who were all of these people? How come they were all so self-possessed? Why did they seem to hold the keys to some kind of secret universe of adulthood? What did they know that I didn’t, which let them behave like extras from a Scandinavian lifestyle magazine? By the time I had negotiated my way past the brightly coloured buggies outside the cute deli on the other side of the common I was filled with despair, bordering on rage. It was as if last night at Strictly had never happened. The sense of possibility, camaraderie, glamour – it all seemed further away than ever before.

I took my coffee and a pain au chocolat, and sat on a bench on the edge of the common, surveying what now looked like a parade of autumnal happiness. I felt ridiculous to have finally got my dream job only to feel consumed by loneliness and hopelessness. It was so indulgent. What was wrong with me? I took my mobile phone out of my pocket and called the one person I knew could shake me out of this mood: my godmother, Jen.

‘Hello?’

‘Hi Jen, it’s Amanda.’

‘Well hello, darling. How are you, city girl? I’m surprised you have time for me!’

Jen sounded thrilled to hear from me, but then she always does. She’s been a friend of my parents since they were newlyweds and has known me since the day I was born. While I have never doubted that my mum wants the best for me, I always feel that Jen – mum’s best friend – wants the best for me, as well as the most fun possible. She’s less inclined to worry about the formalities and more likely to cut to the gossip. As well as being a proper laugh, she is someone I trust implicitly. When I was a teenager she never failed to let me know that I could talk to her about anything I didn’t want to discuss with Mum, and that it would remain in her confidence. I’ve rarely taken her up on it but knowing that she is there has made all the difference. She is everything you could want in a godmother.

‘So … were you at the show last night?’

‘Of course, it’s my JOB now, don’t you know?’

‘Well, la di daa, I am so sorry. Would you do me the honour of letting me know how it is all going? Is it everything you dreamed of? And … are they?’

‘Are who?’

‘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 in town then?’

‘Massive family party tomorrow – I had it written down in my diary in the wrong month, or I would have told you that I was going to be around slightly sooner. My mum called on Wednesday to check what flight I was on and I realised my mistake. Luckily I had bought tickets for the right weekend, but just written it down wrong or I’d be in serious trouble.’

This was the kind of scrape that Julia got into – and out of – the whole time: I always took dance classes while I was at school, and then at university I carried it on with the local Salsa society, but Julia would just turn up every few weeks to keep me company or to check out any new dancers I’d been telling her about. She never paid any attention to what the instructor was telling us, but managed to fit in with the rest of the class without her somewhat unorthodox technique drawing too much attention to the fact that she barely turned up. In fact, the only reason that she ever seemed to catch the instructor’s eye was because she would walk in looking so dramatic, and be so charming that most of the men in the room would be bewitched by her. If I could have had an ounce of her nonchalant confidence when I was not in Salsa classes, I do not think I would have been so devoted to dancing for so long. For Julia, the dancing barely mattered: she brought her personality to the class. For me, I needed the dancing to bring out my personality.

So I didn’t dwell on her sudden appearance, having seen her come up against such scrapes before. Instead, we got down to the serious business of two months’ worth of news. By the time we had got through our sandwiches, a massive bottle of San Pellegrino, and four coffees, we had just about covered her love life with an Italian boy who was clearly never going to be a long-term prospect for as long as he continued to live in his mum’s beautiful Milanese apartment, her applications for internships at Italian fashion houses, my total lack of any romantic action over the summer, and my new job at Strictly.

‘That is such fantastic news,’ said Julia, fiddling with the spoon in her coffee cup. ‘I’m so glad you’re working on a proper show now. And the dancing! I bet you can’t believe it. All those salsa nights at Uni … Have you actually shown anyone that you can dance yet? I bet you haven’t even mentioned it.’

My sheepish expression told her all she wanted to know. She was right. I had told no one about the number of dance classes I had taken over the years, or my passion for actually dancing myself. It seemed so crushingly embarrassing to admit to it when surrounded by the very best in the industry. I didn’t mind my colleagues knowing how passionate I was about watching dance, and about the show. If anything I thought that could only be a bonus in the eyes of my bosses, even if it did make me feel like a bit of a dance-nerd around people like Matt. But to admit to being a dancer myself? I’d rather die. It would put me in the position of being such a wannabe, such an opportunist. I didn’t want a single person to think that I was only doing the job as part of a dastardly plan to become a dancer. I was serious about my job, and about television. Dance was a passion. I was clear about the two, but I did not want anyone else to become muddled.

‘I knew it! Why don’t you say something? I bet one of the professionals would take you for a quick spin.’ She sniggered. ‘A dance … you know what I mean.’

I giggled too, and then opened my mouth to tell her about Lars, but thought better of it. Julia was so feisty, she would build it up into something it wasn’t, and I didn’t need that kind of pressure. But I was too late; she had spotted me.

‘What?’

I waved my hand to try and brush the conversation away.

‘Oh come on, what? Tell me …’

‘It’s nothing.’ ‘It’s not nothing or you would just say. It’s clearly something, and that’s why you have gone all coy.’

I rubbed my face with my hands, trying to diffuse the situation by not looking at her. She sighed.

‘Oh, now there’s only one thing for it.’ She looked up at the guy behind the bar, catching his eye instantly. ‘Could we get two glasses of Prosecco please?’

I sighed, and opened my mouth to protest but I was immediately ‘shushed’. As the waiter put two glasses down in front of us, but before he’d had a chance to fill them, I suddenly blurted out, ‘One of the dancers is completely gorgeous and I have chatted to him a bit and he seems quite flirty, but honestly I don’t want you to get your hopes up because nothing will happen, and I can totally tell that Matt thinks he’s a bit of an idiot too.’ Finally, I exhaled.

‘Woah, woah, woah!’ The barman stopped pouring, immediately. ‘No, not you Lorenzo! Amanda, you. Calm down. Breathe. I only wanted a bit of gossip. Please, rewind. Who’s the dancer and who is this Matt and why do you care so much about his opinion anyway?’

The barman moved to pour the second glass, trying very, very hard to pretend he wasn’t listening. I could see his smirk, and suddenly felt self-conscious discussing the show in public.

‘The less said about Lars the better—’

‘So he’s called Lars?’

‘Yes, but I don’t think we should talk about this here …’ I rolled my eyes towards the barman to try and convey my anxiety to Julia.

‘Oh Lorenzo won’t mind, will he?’ The barman winked at us.

‘I ’ear too mach in this jab to remember eet all, the gassip.’

‘Seriously, forget you heard anything,’ I replied.

‘Okay, okay, let’s forget about Mr L. Who’s this Matt then? Is he any better?’

‘Oh Matt, he’s lovely.’ I broke into a grin. ‘He’s a real honey. He’s totally helped me this first week, really shown me how things are run, been someone I can talk to, that sort of thing.’

‘Sounds cute.’

‘Yeah, he’s great.’ I paused.

‘Ri-ight …’

‘Oh no, nothing like that. Nothing at all. He’s not boyfriend material.’

‘You’re sure? How do you know?’

‘Yes, of course, we just work together. And anyway – he’s not a dancer. Seriously, it’s not even that he’s not a professional dancer. He doesn’t even dance at weddings. I think he’s one of those guys who even at their most drunk can only manage a little bit of swaying.’

‘Just checking. You seemed to go a little misty-eyed just then.’ I felt the heat rising in my cheeks, as I began to blush.

‘It’s probably the booze,’ I said swiftly, raising my glass to hers. But I knew Julia wasn’t going to press the issue, as she knew how much going out with a guy who could dance meant to me. Obviously I knew that a girl like me couldn’t demand a Jared Murillo kind of guy, but as dancing was so important to me I had always maintained that I couldn’t get serious with someone who was not relaxed on a dance floor. My romantic ambitions weren’t as high as those couples who performed scenes from Dirty Dancing at their weddings, but I was not going to compromise on a bloke who wouldn’t even dance with me at someone else’s wedding. I didn’t want to be the girl dancing with her friends while her boyfriend nursed a bottle of beer and talked about the football on the sidelines. I wanted someone who would be relaxed, hold me properly and then offer to dance with one of the doddering aunties. For me, that was charm, confidence and chivalry.

‘Yes, probably is the booze then.’ Did I see Julia wink at Lorenzo at that point, or was I imagining it? Either way, I didn’t want to encourage them so I looked down at my watch. It was much later than I had realised.

‘Oh my goodness, I’ve got to get back. I’m taking Natalie and Lloyd out for dinner tonight and we haven’t even decided where we’re going.’

‘How come?’

‘Urgh, I’m staying with them. It’s my final chunk of news.’

‘Oh, urgh. Natalie’s an absolute doll, I can’t say enough good things about her, but those two are loved UP. I can imagine being in their palace of perfection could get to a girl after a while.’

I remembered what Julia’s room had been like at university – the messiest I had ever seen. Clothes, plates, books heaped everywhere. It was a wonder to us all that someone as glamorous as her could regularly appear from a room like that. If anyone would understand the pressure of living with Natalie and Lloyd, it would be her.

‘It’s just not really working out.’ I sipped the rest of my drink, and reached for the hook beneath the bar with my bag on it. ‘No real reason, just two sisters under one roof. I think Natalie wants her own space and I—’

‘Don’t have anywhere else to go?’

‘Exactly.’

‘Yes, you do.’

‘Er, no I don’t.’

‘What I mean is, I might be able to help.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Yes, my friend, Allegra. Remember her? She did Italian with me? She’s half Italian, now living in London?’

‘Yeah, I think so.’ I really hoped that she wasn’t talking about the girl I thought she was.

‘Well, she’s living in Shepherd’s Bush now, just moved in. Only she was supposed to be moving in with an Italian friend who decided at the last minute that she was too homesick and wanted to go back. They’d signed the contracts and everything, so now Allegra’s frantically trying to find a flatmate. I think the other girl said she’d cover a month or so but after that Allegra’s on her own.’

‘What’s the catch?’

‘There is no catch! Stop being so doom-laden. Maybe, just maybe, it might work out?’

‘You know what, maybe you’re right.’ I smiled and picked up the bill that Lorenzo had placed in front of us. I noticed that the two proseccos were not listed.

‘Excuse me, Loren—’

‘Shsh!’ he said, with a wink. ‘You take-a care, ladies.’

‘That was so lovely of him,’ I said, looping my arm through Julia’s as we walked out onto the street, having settled up.

‘He’s a doll,’ she said. ‘He’s been keeping an eye on me since I was fifteen.’

‘Sweet. I could do with someone like that. Although Matt has been lovely this week.’

‘He sounds great.’ Julia gave me a nudge in the ribs. I giggled.

‘You’re evil.’

‘No, I’m not. I’m amazing.’

‘I know. It’s been such a treat to see you.’ We were now approaching the tube, where I knew we’d be heading in different directions.

‘Listen, I’m going to call Allegra now. Promise you’ll get in touch with her?’

‘Of course. If I can’t be your flatmate any more, I might as well take the next best thing.’

‘Ha! I miss you, babe, even in Milan.’

‘Yeah right …’

‘It’s true. Keep in touch. Let me know how it pans out. All of it.’

‘Oh you’ll hear about it all.’

‘Yeay!’ We hugged, and descended into the tube on separate escalators.

As my carriage rumbled under the river, I sat fiddling with the strap of my bag, wondering if there really was a chance that this flatmate master plan could work out.

The answer was waiting for me when I left the tube station and felt my phone buzz in my pocket.

Already spoken to Allegra. If you’re up for it, text her asap. She’s seeing people this week for the room.

I replied immediately, then sent a quick text to the number that Julia had attached. By the time I reached home I was already feeling positive about where ‘home’ might soon be.

Natalie was snuggled up on the sofa when I walked in, and Lloyd was nowhere to be seen. Natalie looked over her shoulder at me as I stood by the doorway to the sitting room.

‘Hey sis,’ said Natalie.

‘Hey sis,’ I replied.

‘All good?’

‘Yeah, I went to see Julia, she was unexpectedly in town.’

‘Lovely stuff. She well?’

‘Yeah, great.’ I drew breath. I was dreading what I was going to say next. ‘Listen, do you guys know where you want to go for dinner tonight?’

I had decided on the tube that I had to be up front about this, especially if I was going to start paying rent sooner rather than later. It was part of my new ‘Grabbing Life By the Scruff of the Neck’ plan.

‘No, Lloyd’s out at football. I haven’t had a chance to really talk to him about it yet.’ I sat on the arm of the sofa, and Natalie turned down the volume on the TV, sensing I was embarking on a proper chat.

‘Okay, because … well—’

‘… it’s okay, I know what you’re—’

And with that, the clatter of Lloyd’s football boots on the tiles outside announced his arrival home. Like the properly trained husband that he is, he swung the front door open, while staying on the step to take the muddy boots off.

‘Evening ladies!’ he yelled into the doorway.

‘Hiya!’ replied Natalie.

Moments later he was in the sitting room, drenched with sweat, his offending boots on the doorstep.

‘Everyone okay? I’m starving! I’m going to grab a shower and a beer from the fridge. Anyone else?’

‘No thanks!’ said Natalie and I, simultaneously.

Perfect, I thought to myself, now I can speak to Nats alone. But at that moment her mobile rang and she answered it straight away.

‘Hellooooo!’ she shrieked, sounding thrilled to hear from whoever it was. I sighed and took Lloyd’s football boots to the back door, resigned to having to have my financial confession in front of both of them.

When Lloyd had finished in the shower he headed for the fridge and got out a bottle of beer, before wandering back to the sitting room in his dressing gown, rubbing his hair with the huge bath sheet that was now around his neck.

‘I tell you what ladies, and I don’t mean to be rude …’

‘What?’ said Natalie, with a slight frown. I sat up in the armchair I was in, ready to scurry away if a domestic was brewing.

‘I’m absolutely shattered. I’m not sure I’m up to going out. How about we get a DVD and a takeaway?’

‘That’s what I was thinking!’ replied Natalie, before I had a chance to say anything. ‘But only if you want to, ‘Manda. I know you wanted to take us out.’

I wasn’t sure if it was a set up, an act of extraordinary sensitivity and generosity on their part, or just a happy coincidence. Either way, I concentrated on trying to keep my enormous relief to myself.

‘Oh, that’s fine,’ I said. ‘But I’ll get it, yeah?’

‘Only if you’re sure, but it would still be a real treat,’ said Natalie.

‘Thai? Anyone for Thai? Oooh, I could do with some noodles.’ Lloyd was already up and fishing around in the drawer with the takeaway menus in, holding batteries and spare keys and odd pens. ‘Any objections?’

Moments later we were huddled around the menus, planning our feast. It was agreed that Lloyd and I would collect the food, while Natalie went down the road to pick up a DVD. Lloyd seemed no less excited about the food an hour later when we were in the car. He pulled into a side road near the fancy Thai takeaway place on the common, and as I looked at the bars and restaurants rammed with people out for a big night, I felt consumed by relief at the way the evening had ended up. It wasn’t just that I had got away with keeping things vaguely under budget, I was also really looking forward to hanging out with Natalie and Lloyd after a week of avoiding them, especially as I had yet to break the potential good news about the Shepherd’s Bush flat.