Читать книгу Bridesmaids - Zara Stoneley - Страница 11

‘Trouble with the apple, babes?’ Freddie, slumps down on the settee behind me and ruffles my hair, which is slightly annoying, but I can’t be bothered to thump him like I normally would. For the ruffling and for the ‘babes’ – which he only does to get a reaction. He leans in to take a closer look at me, and his brow furrows. ‘Wow, you really are upset. What’s up? What’s Coral the cow done now? Demanded the kitties have a mani, pedi and close shave before she even entertains the thought of them appearing on her feed?’

I can’t even raise a glimmer of a smile. I sigh and blink. As well as being an excellent kitten wrangler, he’s also good for chatting to, but I can’t work out how to speak about her without either screaming or crying. So, I change the subject.

‘Was Lora okay?’

‘She wasn’t in. Some long-haired lout in a biker jacket answered the door. I gave him my hard “Hurt these kittens and you are so dead, mate” stare.’

‘I bet he was quaking in his biker boots.’ Deep inside, I feel a slight lift: I’m pleased Lora wasn’t there, it makes me feel very slightly better.

‘Crocs. He had pink Crocs on, not boots. That’s why I dared glare at him.’

‘Ahh … you’re just a big wuss at heart.’

‘Sure am. You did explain to Coral what you meant by close-ups of a ginger pussy, didn’t you?’ He nudges me with his elbow.

‘Eugh, stop it. That’s disgusting.’ But I can’t help the tiniest of smiles from teasing at my taut face muscles. I actually feel like I’ve got a very thick face mask on and it’s set like concrete.

‘Wow mate, this is serious, isn’t it?’ He’s spotted the debris on the table. He eyes up the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc I’ve opened, the biggest pizza the guy at Domino’s would make for me (sometimes even a Mighty Meaty needs extra toppings), the tub of Ben and Jerry’s Salted Caramel Brownie, and the box of man-sized tissues with suspicion. ‘None of this was here when I went out a couple of hours ago.’

I nod.

‘I thought you said you were going carb free until you got to the Big Apple.’

‘If I do that,’ I swallow away the lump in my throat, ‘I will die of malnutrition.’

He waits. He’s good at waiting and listening. Like the old Golden Retriever I had when I was a teenager.

‘Because I’m not going.’ I take another big bite of pizza and try to swallow it down past the lump in my throat. And nearly choke. Freddie bangs me hard on the back, helpfully. ‘No Big Apple for me.’

‘What? But, you’re flying out in two days, you’ve bought stuff, you’ve packed. I thought she was dead set on going, that she had her eye on the U.S. and—’

‘She is, she has, it’s just me that isn’t going.’ I take a deep breath. ‘She cancelled my ticket.’

‘Why the hell would she do that? She needs you!’

‘She doesn’t need me, she’s got Crystal.’

‘Crystal?’ There’s a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his generous mouth, and I know he’s dying to laugh. ‘Coral and Crystal, you’re kidding me? Are they a new double act?’

‘Crystal is her American friend.’ I smile, despite myself. It’s hard not to.

‘So, she dumped you for some American photographer?’

‘She dumped me because of bloody Daniel.’

‘Daniel? Is that her new shag?’

‘No, he’s that stupid flaming Instagrammer she’s at war with.’ I bury my face in my hands.

‘Ahh.’

‘Sorry,’ I glance up at him through my fingers, ‘I was shouting, wasn’t I? Sorry. He’s the one with the puppy.’

‘So that’s why you’d got kittens?’

‘You got it in one.’ I top up my wine glass and wave the bottle in his direction.

‘It’s okay, I’ve got beer!’ He sinks down onto the carpet next to me and helps himself to pizza. ‘Bloody hell, what are those brown bits?’

I peer at his slice. ‘Anchovy.’

‘Are you sure that goes with the sausage?’

‘Anchovy goes with everything, and so does sour cream.’

‘Wondered what that was. So, this Daniel?’

‘He’s got more likes this month than she has, way more. This is her way of getting even. She says if she loses any sponsorship she will die.’ I try my best to say the last word in her melodramatic way.

‘What a cow. Shame you didn’t tip her into the Thames while you had the chance.’ Freddie knows all about how Coral and I met, and most things that have happened since.

He drapes his arm over my shoulders and squeezes. It’s nice, even nicer than the image of Coral flapping about in the murky brown water in her designer gear.

I’m tempted to just grab him and blub into his shirt, but I don’t think he signed up for that level of interaction when he agreed a flat share.

‘And …’ I bite my lip, trying to hold in the sudden rush of anguish. I’ve not really come to terms with the New York bit yet, it’s not sunk in, but this bit has. It is here and now, and it hurts. I wave my mobile his way. ‘I was just trying to book a cheap deal to Ibiza.’ A tear trickles past my defences, so I scrub my cheek with the back of my hand and hope he hasn’t noticed. ‘But I can’t.’ It comes out as a bit of a wail. ‘My credit card won’t play ball, I can’t even book the most economy of economy flights, the crappiest airline in the world refused to take me because I’m maxed out,’ I rub my forearm over my face, the back of my hand isn’t coping, ‘buying all those frigging clothes.’

‘Oh, shit. Oh, hell, Jane, but you don’t need to go away, do you? You can stay here, have some free time and …’ His voice tails off. Then his eyes twinkle at me. ‘We can play with kittens?’

‘What is it with you and kittens?’ I frown at him, suddenly worried that he has some unhealthy fetish and I’ve got him all wrong.

He sighs. ‘I was thinking about you, not me. But hands up I’m man enough to admit that I need cuddles and cute as much as the next person.’

‘Amy was quite cute …’ I pause. ‘And cuddly.’ Amy was the girl he brought back a couple of weeks ago, and boy was she into cuddles. In a man-eating, down the throat, kiss your face off, crawl all over you like a rash kind of way.

I’d hidden in the bedroom in case she’d accidentally got confused and clambered over me as well. And because it was making me feel a bit queasy.

‘Cuddly as a polar bear.’ He pulls a funny face and does a clawing gesture. Girls flock to Freddie like bees to a honey pot, but he rations the stuff, then tells them to buzz off after a very short time. If he hits three weeks with the same girl I start to get scared she’ll be moving in, or he’ll be moving out. Three weeks for Freddie is heavy. But the moment they get familiar with the contents of our cupboards, he starts the retreat. There was one girl, Annie, who he seemed to like; he ended up rearranging all our food (I nearly had an incident when I grabbed the coffee and it turned out it was gravy granules) so that he could kid himself that she hadn’t got her feet under the table. I’ve not got to the bottom of it yet, but I will. ‘But kittens don’t come with strings attached, do they?’

‘I hope not.’ Although strings might have been handy on the photoshoot front.

‘You can just chill with them, they have no expectations, they’re not planning the future you’ve not agreed to.’

‘Just their next meal.’

We both contemplate a relationship with a cat. Then I snap out of it. If I’m not careful it will be slippers and cocoa next.

‘I can’t have a staycation. I told Coral I was going to Ibiza, and she lives on social media so I’ve got to post photos on Facebook because if she gets the slightest hint that I’m still here, or pissed off or sulking then she’ll be onto me in an instant. She’ll be gloating, making my life even more of a misery, then she’ll probably sack me for being a wuss.’ I grimace. ‘She hates wusses.’ Coral loves to be in control, she’s an out and out bully, but she likes to think she’s controlling people with backbone, not easy targets. God, the woman is totally power crazy. And deluded.

Freddie munches on some pizza for a few minutes. Then swills it down with his beer. ‘Hate to tell you, but this anchovy idea is wrong on so many levels.’

‘Name one.’

‘Salt. Too much.’ He tries another bit, flicking the fishy bit off onto my slice. We’re like an old married couple, swapping the bits we don’t like. ‘I’ve got it!’ He sits upright, abruptly. ‘We’ll go to Brighton.’

‘I’ve got it’ and ‘Brighton’ aren’t two phrases I’d normally put together.

‘Come again?’

‘My parents place. Come on,’ he nudges me, ‘you’d be doing me a favour, it’s boring going on my own.’ I don’t know that much personal stuff about Freddie, but I do know that his parents are currently swanning around in their villa in Italy and his good-son duties including regular trips to check up on their house. Tidy up, move post, weed the path and generally make sure it doesn’t look neglected.

When we first lived together, his periodic disappearing act had intrigued me. Me and Rach had invented all kinds of elaborate scenarios – like he was a spy on a mission, or had a secret wife and family, or had a cannabis den.

Then I spoiled things by asking him, because I’m nosy.

I mean, Brighton is a bit of a killer on the exciting escapades front, doesn’t exactly say 007 or Mission Impossible, does it? Though I’m sure it’s a lovely place. And lively. And the home of DJ’s and raves and stuff.

‘We’ll use it as a hideaway, then you won’t get spotted and you can pretend you’re in Ibiza.’

‘I can?’

‘You can.’

‘Er, there are holes in that solution. Like no sun and a pier.’

He winks. ‘Post photos of Spain – I won’t tell if you don’t. I’ve got some rave ones from when I was a student.’

‘Oh, Freddie.’ I can’t help myself. It’s the wine and the emotion and the relief. I fling myself at him. He freezes for a second.

We do occasional clap on the back type hugs, but not this type. Then he pats my back awkwardly, in a there-there kind of way, then unexpectedly hugs me properly. Then disengages. We both launch ourselves at the pizza, gorging on chunks of stuffed crust, and surreptitiously edge an inch or two away from each other suddenly mega aware that our knees had been touching.

I clear my throat.

‘So, er, you got pissed in Ibiza? You went to raves?’

‘All-nighters, making the moves, babe.’ He makes a few very strange moves.

‘I think it might be better to stop doing that.’ I giggle.

‘You’ve seen nothing until you’ve seen techno, Freddie.’

‘Haven’t you got to go to work?’

‘I’m owed time off, and besides, it’ll be good going together. It’s fun. You really do need to tell that cow where to get off though.’

‘I know.’ I nod. ‘I know, and I will, just not yet.’ I’ve only just got used to the idea that Andy could change my life like he did and that I could do nothing about it. Right now, I’ve got a reliable income and a home I like, I’m not ready to risk losing it all.

‘I know. You’ll get there.’ He winks, then holds his beer bottle up. ‘What do you say? Brighton then?’

‘Brighton.’ We clink.

Desperate times require desperate measures – so, Brighton it is.