Carl tugged at his thumbnail distractedly.
‘Steve was addicted to everything. Jo’s parents had no idea – Jo was shielding them from it, making sure she kept tabs on him, which was hard, pre-phone days. To cut a very long and painful story short, he died of an overdose at nineteen. I was in my first year at uni and Jo came up to Manchester to tell me. It was shit. She felt dreadful, guilty, took on all the blame for not trying harder, not being there enough, not telling her parents. She managed not to have a breakdown through sheer willpower. But ever since then, she’s been trying to save people. Me, her friends, her parents, and every woman she has ever dated has always had some kind of thing that needed fixing.’
‘Poor Jo, that’s too much to take on. It makes perfect sense and explains why she is like she is. She’s very generously offered to take me to one of her geezers tomorrow to buy a cheap car.’
‘Yeah, see – she just can’t help getting involved in other people’s stuff, helping them out. I think it’s her way of making up for Steve’s tragic death. I don’t think she has ever come to terms with it, so she’s now the Go-To Kid but for entirely different reasons. I let her organise me. It’s fucked up and probably a bit co-dependent, but it helps her too. But I think it’s time it stopped… And as for Debs, you’re right, if Debbie didn’t have cancer and hadn’t just been dragged through a horrific divorce, then no, Jo wouldn’t have given her a cursory glance.’
‘Does anyone else know about Steve?’
‘I think Francesca knows, but that’s it. Jo never talks about him.’
I shook my head sadly, trying to imagine the hideous pain if either Dan or Alex had died when I was still a teenager. I shivered.
‘How is she still organising you, then if you’re back in AA and properly committed to the twelve steps?’
He didn’t speak for a moment and I felt the leaden weight of the silence press down on my chest, forcing my breath to come out in shallow bursts.
‘She just is, but she doesn’t know everything.’ He stood up abruptly. ‘I just remembered; I have to fire off some emails for a job next week. Thanks for the crisps. I’ll get the photos over to you tomorrow, is that OK?’
‘Yeah, great thanks.’
‘Bye then!’
What the fuck happened there?
My phone pinged in my back pocket.
Have you seen the EDF? Has Elinor blabbed? Nick
*
‘Hello, only me!’ Samantha called through the door as I wandered out with the watering can to soak my pots of lavender on the drive a few evenings later. ‘Nice car. I love a Merc. Rather big, isn’t it?’
‘I need the space for all the clothes I hike around for shoots.’ I didn’t really. My showboating tendencies had flared up when it came to choosing between the equally priced Beetle and the silver Mercedes estate in the dodgy showroom in Kent Jo had kindly driven me to in the Roller the day after the shave. All credit cards were now thoroughly maxed out and I was without options, standing on the port, waiting for my ship to come in.
‘Nice. Well, you’ll be pleased to know, Lana called. They want you on the sofa with David and Mina, with Debbie if she’ll come. They’re very interested in featuring her cancer journey.’
‘What? Really?’
‘Yes, really. And I’m hoping it means they’ll consider offering you two a regular paid slot for makeovers. We need this to get our foot in the door. I’ve been in talks…’
I stared at her, my legs felt hollow, like someone had sucked the marrow out of my bones. This wasn’t the ship I was looking for…
‘Live TV?’ I whispered, scared she was going to drag me by my ears and throw me to the lions. ‘I hate it. I’m happy with the vlog and all the other work, but live TV?’
‘Listen, you have a massive debt to recover. If you get this gig, your debts could be wiped out a lot sooner. And now you’ve added to the mounting debt with this car, I assume? It all needs to be paid for and TV pays well.’
‘But I don’t think I can do it.’ Nerves already rinsed round my guts. What if I actually puked on the sofa? Or fainted and wet myself?
‘They won’t take just one of you. Lila is ready for this and you’re a team.’ She stared at me, a flinty glare in her eye. All the routine jollity had been brutally pushed aside and Samantha the Rottweiler agent was baring her teeth, snapping at my financial Achilles heel. ‘I obviously can’t force you to do anything, but you have to consider this if it comes up. You’ll do the one-off live show?’ Her voice dripped like treacle off a glinting hunting knife. I nodded, not used to this version of her. Trust me to mix business with pleasure yet again.
‘Fabulous. Now, you’re coming to the annual party meeting at mine later?’ And with the flick of a switch, jolly Samantha was back in the room.
‘Yes, I’ll be there with Grace.’
‘Ciao!’ She swanned back to her house and my phone pinged. It was Jacqui.
Only five more sleeps and we’ll be reunited. Single Parents Alone Together!
God, I bloody missed her. I couldn’t wait for her summer visit to distract me from my life.
SPATS for ever. What time will you be in East Dulwich?
Wine o’clock…
33
Debbie
Debbie felt that she had exhausted all topics of conversation with Elinor other than What They Were Doing Here. Her head feverishly itched where her stubble was desperately trying to grow back before it eventually withered and fell out. She felt too hot and bothered to wear her new wig, her eyes were so scratchy, and she had drunk lots of water but it hadn’t soothed her claggy mouth. Her arm was already throbbing where the cannula had been inserted though it had only been half an hour. Apparently she had weak veins.
‘I’d better woman the fuck up,’ she muttered under her breath.
‘What did you say?’ Elinor asked, drawing her eyes away from Period Living magazine.
‘Oh, nothing. Just that there’s no point thinking this is shite. I’ve got a long way to go yet and it’s going to get a lot worse.’
‘Are you feeling sick already?’ Elinor asked, concerned, putting the magazine down on the side table next to the reclining chair where Debbie was stretched out like she was sunbathing instead of receiving chemotherapy.
‘No. I don’t think I’ll feel properly poorly until a couple of treatments in. Just a few wee things really. I’m fine.’ She smiled at Elinor to reassure her all was well. But it wasn’t. She had a painful job to do this week and she wasn’t looking forward to it. She’d originally thought that when she’d been officially diagnosed she would be subsumed by terrifying thoughts about cancer every waking moment and that regular concerns would recede into the background. Instead she had found herself feeling fairly normal as soon as the crippling shock had initially worn off, only to be suddenly caught unaware at times when she had been pootling about in Sainsbury’s or about to walk into a lecture theatre at work. Overwhelming waves of fear and rage gripped her heart, making it race, anxiety catching its coat-tails. When this happened she felt paralysed and had to close her eyes and breathe through it until it eventually passed.
She’d never forget the children’s faces when she’d sat them down and told them her news. Isabelle had reacted how she’d expected: calm and collected, a few tears. Charlie’s face had crumpled, and he was unable to contain his emotions.
‘My cancer is the most treatable one you can get,’ she’d explained, holding him in her arms as he sobbed. ‘I have the best outcome possible, and a huge chance of it never returning.’ She didn’t think Charlie believed her at first. The look on his face told her that he thought she was hiding the sinister truth.
‘Will we have to go and live with Dad all the time?’ he’d asked in a trembling voice, seeming much younger than his fourteen years.
‘No! Nothing is going to change apart from further along you might have to help me a lot more than normal. I’m going to be very tired. You still have to keep your room tidy!’ she’d jo
ked.
She’d rung Matthew to let him know and for the first time in five years, he hadn’t tried to get the last word in or accuse her of some petty fabricated misdemeanour.
‘I’m really sorry to hear that, Debbie. You’re in the best place. Andrew Berger is a top-class oncologist. If there’s anything I can do, just say.’ She had put the phone down, stunned. ‘Maybe I should have got cancer sooner and I would have got a better settlement,’ she mumbled to herself.
Ali and Lila had accompanied Debbie to choose a wig at the Macmillan suite at King’s a few days after Ali had shaved Debbie’s head. Lovely Petra, assigned to her, couldn’t have been more helpful and had brought out a varied selection for her to try on. They’d had a real hoot gurning for the camera, wearing blond curls, vampy black curtains and a bright red bob. Debbie had settled for a long wavy strawberry-blond wig that really suited her. The experience had been so full of laughter that she had almost forgotten the reason she was there at all.
Debbie hadn’t told Jo the exact date of her chemo until she’d definitely known she was busy taking her mum for her cataract appointment. ‘Dad can take her on his own. It’s fine. I want to be there with you,’ Jo had persisted when Debbie reassured her Elinor was going to come.
‘I’ll be OK. Your mum needs you. And you know your dad shouldn’t really be driving with his eyesight.’
‘Why won’t you let me help with anything?’ Jo had asked her peevishly. ‘All I want to do is help.’
Debbie had bitten her tongue because she felt so ungrateful. Jo had been cross when Debbie had visited the Macmillan support nurse without her. It was a service for the kids and her and she could hardly invite Jo along too. The children still didn’t know about their relationship. Where had Jo been when Debbie just wanted to hang out and have a coffee, or go for a walk in the park, or watch a film? She dropped everything for the drama, but boring real life seemed below her…
Debbie glanced at Elinor, who had returned to reading her magazine, and smiled. She hadn’t known what to expect, moving to the Mews after she’d filed for divorce. She had just been desperate to put some distance between her and Matthew once the house had sold. She had lots of friends in Dulwich Village, at work, in Glasgow, abroad; she didn’t need any more. However, she had been surprised at how quickly she’d felt so accepted, so safe behind the Mews gates. Her neighbours had quickly felt like life-long friends, always a bonus in any circumstances, but especially now. Samantha had filled her freezer with homemade lasagnes and stews for her and the kids. Elinor had asked for all the chemo dates so she could attend the hospital with her. Ali had come and helped her pick another wig at Selfridges. This time the experience had been far from joyous. The shop assistant had been a hard-bitten harridan who hadn’t a sympathetic bone in her body. Ali had complained and they had got a ten per cent discount off the red shoulder-length wig from the floor manager. A bit of a silver lining…
Debbie had been overwhelmed by everyone’s support, especially in lieu of her own family being so far away and her mum incapacitated by dementia. Her world had shrunk in the last month. She hoped she wasn’t about to blow it apart and make everything awkward for everyone else in the Mews…
34
The Summer Party
‘Who’s that really young guy dancing round Francesca?’ Ursula asked, squinting into the sunlight.
‘That’s her Qi Gong teacher, Teyo. He’s a bit of a twat.’ To be fair I’d only met him for about a minute when he arrived but that had been enough for me to make my mind up. I didn’t need my Mini Amanda to warn me about being judgemental, she was right here!
‘Look at her partner’s face. He looks like he’s going to kill him,’ Amanda said, full of concern.
‘Her daughters are looking pretty fucked off too,’ I said. ‘I hope she doesn’t do anything stupid. They totally know something is up.’
‘And that’s Norman, the grumpy one who’s like a sniffer dog?’ Jacqui was getting the lowdown on some of the residents.
I nodded.
‘And that’s Carl, the alcoholic photographer? Wow, he is fit as fuck, like Idris Elba.’
‘Good job Mark isn’t here!’ I laughed, my crush a secret only I knew about.
‘Oh, he would know I don’t mean it!’
Grace was in her natural habitat. She loved parties, especially if Meg, Isla and Sonny were in attendance. They’d disappeared off and chased around the Mews, a mini kid-gang, creating their own fun. It was a shame Neve and Joe, Jacqui’s kids, weren’t here, but they were on holiday with their dad.
‘Hello,’ a voice said behind me as I bent under the pudding table in the shade outside Debbie’s house to pull out some trays of cling-filmed brownies. I turned round once I was upright. It was one of Carl’s friends. ‘I recognise you but I can’t think where from.’
‘Maybe we met at one of the BBQs here? How do you know Carl?’
‘Shared interests.’
‘Photography?’
‘Yes, that among others. Do you live here?’
‘Yes, next to Carl, we’re neighbours.’
He nodded like he actually already knew and was just asking for the sake of it.
‘My name’s Ali, by the way.’
‘Jez.’ He leaned in and kissed me on both cheeks with the slickness of someone who was sure of their own attractiveness.
‘Jez! I got you a burger, mate,’ Carl called from the giant gas BBQ stationed in front of Samantha’s house. Apparently Jo was banned from BBQing because she was too impatient and one year poisoned people with undercooked sausages.
Carl ambled over with the burger slapped on a paper plate and offered it to Jez.
‘I was just introducing myself to Ali.’ I could see Amanda and Jacqui goggling from the deck chairs down at the bottom of the Mews where the hedge disguised the car park for the flats above Terry’s Tool Hire. A little seating area had been set up with a hodgepodge of deck chairs donated by all the houses, like the ones laid out in front of wrought-iron bandstands in public parks. My best friends were basking in my obvious discomfort.
‘Sorry, is he bothering you, Ali?’ Carl asked, all smiles and arched eyebrows.
‘No, he’s being well-behaved.’
‘That will be a first. Here, stuff that in your gob and leave the ladies alone.’
‘Excuse me, can I borrow Ali for a second?’ Elinor butted in, tapping my elbow to grab my attention. ‘Sorry, boys…’
‘What’s going on?’ I hissed as she ushered me away. ‘That bloke was chatting me up!’
‘Jez?’
I nodded.
‘He’s a one.’
‘How do you know?’
‘He’s one of Carl’s friends from AA. Bit of a ladies’ man. Debbie’s having a crisis; she won’t leave her house. The children are asking where she is. I’ve said she’s just cooling off.’
I followed Elinor over to Debbie’s where the door was on the latch, as all the doors were in the road so people could use the downstairs toilets and move in and out easily.
‘Debbie, are you OK?’ Elinor called through the door. The coolness of the hallway was most welcome as it was baking outside and the fizz had gone to my head. I went into the kitchen first to grab a glass of water. I heard Elinor walk up the stairs. I hadn’t seen Debbie since we’d chosen her Selfridges wig just before her first round of chemo.
I heard Elinor talking in the main bedroom and poked my head through the door. Debbie was lying on the bed, her head completely bare, a damp flannel over her eyes. She was wearing navy shorts and red vest top, the pallor of her limbs contrasting with the dark colours and the stripy blue and white duvet cover. Seeing her without her wig was still a breath-catching moment.
‘I don’t want to come down,’ she said in a quiet voice. ‘I feel so stupid.’
‘You’re not stupid,’ Elinor replied. ‘You’re feeling terrible because of the chemo.’
‘I’ve only had one round of chemo; it isn’t enough to make me feel this
dreadful yet, it’s everything else. Chemo’s a process I have to go through in order to get better. How am I going to get better from the Jo situation if I have to see her all the time?’ Oh dear. I recognised that war cry. I sat down next to her and grabbed her hand. She pulled the flannel off her eyes.
‘Oh, I didn’t know you were here too.’
‘Do you still have feelings for Jo?’ I asked. Debbie had broken it off with Jo after chemo, something I wasn’t entirely shocked about.
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