‘Cancer or calories?’ Lard enquired.
‘Er . . . cancer.’
Grant handed him a cigarette and Leo went through the blessed ritual of lighting up which, actually, he preferred to the process of smoking. Leo loved all that fiddling about with the packet and the cigarette and the lighter. After the first inhalation he could take it or leave it.
‘I thought you’d given up?’
Though leaving it was actually a bit harder in practice. ‘So did I.’
They all sat in a row like the three wise monkeys and dragged on their cigarettes in unison. After observing a suitable period of silence while they took in the traffic noise and watched the motorbike couriers weave in and out of the cars indulging in a spot of extreme parcel delivery, and they’d admired a few young women in short, flippy skirts, Leo then said, ‘You didn’t happen to see an extraordinarily beautiful girl pass by a few minutes ago, did you?’
‘How beautiful?’ Grant wanted to know.
‘One look would be enough to melt the elastic on your underpants.’
Grant and Lard looked impressed and then somewhere the penny dropped. Grant’s mouth fell slightly agog. ‘Not Ms Glitter Knickers again?’
Leo nodded in confirmation. ‘I’m sure I saw her in the office. Just now. She came out of Old Baldy’s office, waved to me and then disappeared into the lift. I ran down the stairs . . .’
‘You did what?’
‘I ran down the stairs after her.’
They looked at Leo in disbelief.
‘But you’re terminally unfit,’ coughed Lard.
‘And you had six shags last night,’ Grant reminded him. ‘Even Kelly Holmes would be hard pushed to summon up a run after that.’
‘True,’ Leo conceded. Then, as they all contemplated this turn of events over another drag, ‘But neither of you two saw her leave the building?’
His friends shook their heads and looked rather disappointed that they hadn’t.
‘She’s utterly gorgeous,’ Leo said flatly. ‘And now I’m not sure if the whole thing was a hallucination.’ Instead of the translucent underwear and velvet cloak, she had been wearing a very fetching business suit, but Leo would have known her anywhere. He was sure he would. ‘There are odd things happening to me. And I don’t know why.’
‘When did you last have a holiday, mate?’ Grant asked. ‘Even for you, you’re acting very strangely.’
‘Yeah,’ Leo agreed. ‘I’d be the first to admit that I’m feeling decidedly unhinged at the moment.’
‘What you need is a few glasses of fizz inside you. Hair of the dog and all that. We must head straight to the nearest and seediest bar as soon as we are released from our daily toil.’
But – and this was really strange – Leo couldn’t summon up the necessary enthusiasm for heavy drinking. Very strange, indeed. ‘I think I’ll give it a miss, boys.’
Stubbing out his cigarette, Leo turned to wander back into the office. As he left, he heard Grant and Lard mutter, ‘That is not a well man!’
Chapter Twenty-Two
Leo went home early. Which, along with him refusing a drink, was also unheard of. You could be sacked from Thornton Jones for simply going home on time. And he took a cab as he was feeling far too peculiar to face a long walk or be squashed on the Tube – even though it was only a couple of stops.
Sitting in the back of the cab, Leo thought about recent events as the driver played dodge the traffic, swerving in and out of lanes so that his progress wouldn’t be hampered. He should phone Emma, he knew he should. But, basically, he was frightened of her. If he even spoke to her she would know that he’d been having carnal knowledge of another woman. Leo would bet that she could even spot a few lustful thoughts from a mile off. She would, no doubt, be deeply suspicious of the silver glitter that was still sprouting forth from his hair. He looked like someone who had spent too long at a glam-rock fancy dress party. Actually, that would be a rather good excuse should he need one.
Leo’s phone had been turned off all day and he didn’t dare check it for messages. He wasn’t trying to avoid reality. Not really. He just wasn’t ready to visit it at the moment. Leo was also thinking of having an early night and wondered with something approaching alarm if the Peter Pan phase of his life was suddenly coming to an end. That would be too hideous to contemplate. One night of athletic lust and he was totally knackered. Very soon, he could be forced to consider a pension fund and health insurance and all manner of responsible things. He might start buying slippers. It made Leo shudder just thinking about it, so he stopped immediately. And he thought about Emma instead.
Leo paid the taxi driver, and glad to still be in possession of his latest door key, let himself into the house. He high-fived his neighbour Dominic as they passed each other on the stairs.
‘Mate,’ Leo said.
‘Mate,’ Dominic said back.
Leo liked Dominic. He was a great neighbour. He was uncomplicated, rather like himself. Dominic lived with his girlfriend Lydia next door to Leo. She was as complicated as they come. But she did have great legs.
‘We must catch up some time,’ Dominic said.
‘Yeah. Yeah,’ Leo agreed. They always said this when they met, but they never did. Busy people. Busy lives. They were lucky if they got together once or twice every summer for a few beers on Dominic’s and Lydia’s posh roof terrace, and then they’d always vow to do it more regularly. Needless to say, Leo never invited them back to his place. He couldn’t bear the humiliation. His rusting bike couldn’t compete with their stainless-steel planters. Leo wasn’t a terribly competitive person, but he did appreciate there were standards that must be maintained and, in this case, his were very low. Leo decided he must get Emma to spend his next bonus on a roof terrace designer and then he remembered with a sharp jolt that his darling Emma wasn’t going to be doing anything for him ever again. His heart sank. It wasn’t the fact that he wasn’t perfectly capable of organising a roof terrace designer all by himself, he just rather liked Emma organising everything for him, if the truth were known. And, if that wasn’t going to happen, then he knew that he’d never get round to doing it. The rusting bike and Leo were destined to live in untidy harmony for some considerable time yet.
Climbing the remaining stairs, Leo felt quite low, as if he was coming down with a cold. But when he opened the door to the flat, he heard the sound of music coming from the kitchen – not the Julie Andrews Sound of Music we all know and love. No. The sound of this music was produced by James Brown’s dulcet tones screeching out ‘Get Up Offa That Thing’.
Assuming that a burglar wouldn’t be so bold or have such great taste in music, Leo pushed open the kitchen door. Isobel – Ms Glitter Knickers – was dancing round his kitchen. His uninvited guest was barefoot and was dressed only in a brief slip of silk kimono which Leo found very appealing. She was also brandishing a small silver wand. Oh. And the dirty dishes were washing themselves. They were jumping in and out of the sink all of their own accord. Very much in time to the music. And Isobel was conducting them. She was quite a mover. So were Leo’s plates. It wasn’t a quality he’d previously considered necessary in a dinner plate. His knives and forks weren’t too shabby either as they performed a passable disco routine.
‘Hello,’ Leo said.
‘Ooo.’
The music stopped abruptly and Isobel spun round, clutching her wand to her chest. Her kimono was gaping attractively, but that was by the by. Leo’s dishes ground to a halt, some huddled together nervously as if discovered in flagrante delicto rather than just doing a bit of disco dancing. Some toppled into the sink in surprise.
‘Relax,’ Isobel said to the dishes. They all fell back onto the draining board and there was a noise that sounded remarkably like a plate sighing.
‘Another interesting party trick,’ Leo felt moved to say. Even though he was amazed that he still had the power of speech.
‘I can explain,’ Isobel said, hanging her head, chewing her lip and doin
g all sorts of cute ‘I’m embarrassed’ type stuff.
Walking over to the fridge and opening it rather gingerly just in case the carton of milk was doing a tango, Leo helped himself to a beer. ‘This I can’t wait to hear.’
Leo then opened a kitchen cupboard and tried to find some peanuts or something to go with the beer. This was a definite snack-attack moment. Leo thought that he must be turning into Lard, who always advised an excess of calories in times of crisis. It wasn’t just girls who liked chocolate. Once he’d found some comfort food and a modicum of equilibrium, he turned his attention back to Isobel.
Meeting his eyes, she made a huffing sound. ‘I’m not like other women,’ she said.
‘I’ve managed to work out that much.’
‘I’m a fairy.’
Blame it on shock, but somehow Leo managed to hit his head on the open cupboard door, and the next thing he saw was the floor coming up to meet him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Isobel was dabbing at a cut on Leo’s forehead with a damp and very smelly J-cloth. None too tenderly. Leo was propped upright on a kitchen chair, but the universe still seemed rather skewed. He was bleeding profusely and was convinced that he wasn’t long for this world.
‘Ow! Ow!’ He cringed away from her.
‘For heaven’s sake,’ Isobel tutted, scowling at him as she did. Despite the pain, Leo thought she looked very cute.
With an insouciant stare, she pulled out her wand and, even though Leo shrank back into his chair, she waved it over him. Leo was expecting something horrid to happen, but it didn’t. The bloodflow from the cut arrested immediately and when he touched his forehead there was no sign that it had ever existed. He went to say something, but unusually, nothing would come out.
Isobel gazed at him evenly. ‘I’m a fairy.’
Ah, so he hadn’t been hearing things. ‘A fairy,’ Leo managed when this had eventually started to sink in. He tried to eat some peanuts. Because if this was a dream, peanut-eating would be impossible. Wouldn’t it?
Isobel waited patiently. The peanuts tasted exactly like peanuts.
‘So?’ Leo asked eventually. ‘A fairy? Is that like being a lesbian?’
‘No,’ Isobel said. She sat down on the chair next to him and pulled it close. Her beautiful, glowy face was frowning with concern. ‘I’m a magical being, Leo. A nymph.’
Leo gave himself time to digest this. ‘I’ve been out with a nymphomaniac before, but I don’t think I’ve ever had the pleasure of dating a plain old nymph.’
‘And I’ve never had a boyfriend who wasn’t a fairy,’ Isobel countered.
‘Are we really having this conversation?’
Isobel nodded at him.
‘And you haven’t been drinking?’
She shook her head.
‘Me neither.’ But Leo rather wished he had. Perhaps, he thought, he was going to come round at any moment and would still be up to his eyeballs in cake at Emma’s birthday party because everything since then was shaping up to be one humdinger of a nightmare.
‘Fairies have co-existed with humans for hundreds of years.’
‘Four hundred and sixty-three in your case. If I remember rightly.’
Isobel looked at him beseechingly. ‘Is it so difficult to believe?’
‘Oh, no. No. Not at all. I get mightily pissed, dumped by my girlfriend and bump into a fairy trying to top herself on Tower Bridge.’ Leo was starting to get a headache and he didn’t think it was from the bang on his head. ‘An everyday story of ordinary folk.’
‘I can’t “top myself”,’ Isobel pointed out. ‘I’m immortal.’
‘Yeah. You and David Beckham.’
In the background Leo noted that his dirty dishes were now quietly popping themselves in and out of the sink, trying hard not to attract his attention. Leo didn’t tell them that they’d been rumbled. He closed his eyes momentarily and then opened them again. Yes, they were still washing themselves.
‘Isobel?’ Leo suddenly felt very weary. ‘What are you doing here? Why are you in this flat? Why me?’
Isobel took his hands in hers. They were as cool as a mountain spring. ‘You are my mortal soulmate, Leo,’ she told him earnestly. ‘I have come across time to find you.’
‘Right.’ This could be too much information. ‘You did say time and not town?’
Isobel nodded in a very sombre way and he knew that she wasn’t joking.
‘Thought so.’
‘We are meant to be together.’
‘Isobel, you are an extraordinarily beautiful woman . . . fairy. Look at you, you’re all shimmery and shiny and vaguely see-through. Even though you’re knocking on for five hundred. Joan Collins doesn’t look that good and she’s bloody marvellous for her age.’ Leo stood up and went to get his beer because, as I’m sure you’ll appreciate, he damn well needed one. This also gave him the chance to pace about as sitting still wasn’t really an option in this situation either. ‘And I’m really flattered that you’ve come all the way across time to find me, but I’m not worth it. I’m a crap boyfriend. Really I am. And I already have a girlfriend.’ Leo pulled himself up sharply. ‘Wait! Emma hasn’t set this all up as a joke, has she? Because I’ll bloody kill her if she has. I’ll dump her back.’
‘No, Leo. It isn’t a joke.’
For a moment Leo thought that Isobel looked very shifty. Her eyelashes were firmly lowered over her eyes. Could Emma be involved in this? Could she possibly have drummed this up with Isobel to teach him a lesson? Women of any species probably stick together. Then he remembered the self-washing dishes and realised that even Emma wasn’t that resourceful.
‘And, actually, you don’t have a girlfriend,’ Isobel continued, avoiding his eyes.
Leo’s newfound little fairy friend zapped the answerphone with her wand. Emma’s voice flooded through the flat.
‘Leo! You are a crap boyfriend,’ she shouted.
Leo gave Isobel an I-told-you-so look.
Emma ranted on. ‘It’s still over between us. I thought I’d better confirm it just in case you were too pissed to remember that I dumped you. For ever, this time.’
She never dumped Leo for ever. It was a week, max.
‘And even if you ring or come round here, I won’t talk to you. You’re not going to charm your way back into my affections – or my bed – ever again, Leo Harper.’
Isobel had folded her arms and was listening intently. Leo felt that she might be learning too much. There was a beeping noise and the line went dead.
‘Phew,’ he said.
‘There’s more.’ Isobel waved her wand again.
Emma’s voice fast-forwarded to the next message. ‘There’s no point in buying a massive, belated birthday present,’ she yelled. ‘It’s too late. Too, too late! Even if it was a ring. A special kind of ring. There’s no way that would work. I wouldn’t even consider it. I saw you hiding under the table from me!’
Leo cringed. That was a very childish thing to do.
‘That was a very childish thing to do,’ Emma shouted.
Then there was the heartfelt slam of a phone and the line went dead again.
‘Bugger.’ That was a fulsome rant even for Emma.
Isobel gave him another knowing look and waved that blasted wand again. Leo was growing to dislike it by the moment.
‘I’m not going to be sitting here at home tonight, moping and waiting for the phone to ring,’ his very ex-girlfriend said. ‘I’m going to be out having fun. Fun with someone you don’t know.’
Leo didn’t like the sound of this.
‘I’m going out at eight o’clock, well about quarter past. And I won’t be home until way after midnight. Way, way after midnight. And then I might not be alone. Or I might not come home at all.’
Alarm bells were ringing. Where would she go? And who with?
‘And I won’t have my mobile phone switched on because I won’t want to be disturbed. So even if you were thinking of ringing me to apologise – profus
ely – then you probably couldn’t even get me until tomorrow morning anyway.’
The line went dead again and all that was left was the empty whirring sound of the answerphone.
‘Shit.’ This was terrible. A bleak feeling stole over Leo. ‘It’s really over this time.’
‘I think so,’ Isobel said confidently.
‘Emma never really dumps me,’ Leo explained. ‘It’s like a sport for her. She sees me as a challenge.’ At least he thought she did. She certainly used to. ‘After she’s cooled down – which can sometimes take days – we just get together again as if nothing’s ever happened.’ Leo felt worry wiggle across his brow. ‘She sounds serious.’
‘Don’t look downcast.’ Isobel came and wrapped her arms round him. ‘This is meant to be, Leo. Your soul called to me.’
‘I don’t think it did, Isobel. I’m pretty sure I would have known.’
‘Leo, you are meant to be a part of me.’ She pulled away from him slightly and her beautiful face looked troubled. ‘How much do you know about fairies?’
‘Surprisingly little,’ he admitted. ‘I studied English at university. Chaucer. Shakespeare. Dead poets. They’re my speciality. The fairy course was all full up.’
‘Fairies don’t have souls,’ Isobel continued unabashed. ‘We need human men to give us what we most desire.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘All in good time, Leo. You’ll learn. All in good time.’
‘This sounds very spooky.’
‘You won’t feel a thing.’ His scary fairy friend smiled at him reassuringly. ‘I promise you.’
‘Right.’ He let the word drag, but his lack of knowledge re: fairies also extended to not knowing if they got irony – a bit like Americans. Call him suspicious, but it sounded to Leo as if there might be a catch to all this. He was going to take rather a lot of convincing on this – glitter or no glitter. In Leo’s book, if something sounded too good to be true then you could be sure that it damn well was. ‘And what do I get out of this deal? Apart from free champagne and an unusual, but undeniably effective dishwasher?’
It’s a Kind of Magic Page 9