Lucy in the Sky

by Paige Toon

  ‘I haven’t figured that part out yet. Somewhere in north London, I reckon, judging by what the guy from work said.’

  After we hang up I sit on the bed for a moment feeling shell-shocked. Then I go through to the living room.

  ‘James?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You know Nathan, Sam’s little brother?’

  ‘Yeah…’ he says, eyes still fixed on the telly. Suddenly he yells, ‘That was in, you moron!’

  I carry on. ‘Well, he might be coming over here in three months’ time.’

  That gets his attention.

  ‘So you’ll be able to meet him!’ I add cheerfully.

  ‘Great!’ Oh, the sarcasm.

  ‘James, don’t be mean.’ I keep my tone playful. ‘He’s a nice guy; you’d get along well with him.’

  He looks up at me from the sofa, blue eyes staring intently at me and I avert my gaze to the tennis on the telly. ‘Who’s winning?’ I ask.

  ‘Lucy, come here,’ he says and reaches up for my hand.

  ‘James, careful!’ I squeal as I start to lose my balance. He doesn’t let go, just pulls me firmly down onto his lap so I’m kneeling above him.

  ‘Do you fancy him?’ he asks, looking searchingly into my eyes.

  ‘No!’ I laugh.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘James, stop being silly.’

  He reaches up and rubs his thumb over my nipple, through my T-shirt. Then he takes my face in his hands and starts to kiss me, slowly at first, then harder, like the expert kisser he is. I respond to him more passionately as he reaches down and unbuckles his belt.

  But when we’ve finished I feel dirty.

  Chapter 18

  ‘Are you serious?’ Chloe squeals on Monday at work.

  ‘Shh! It might not happen yet. He’s still in the process of sorting it out.’

  ‘Lucy, what time are you going to collect the clients?’ Mandy calls from her desk, interrupting our gossiping.

  ‘I’ve got a car coming in twenty minutes,’ I call back.

  Titteesh are flying in direct from Portugal where they’ve been on a promotional tour around the Algarve’s bars and nightclubs. Chloe comes with me to collect them from the airport because we’re launching straight into ‘the operation’. We don’t have long if we’re going to get this video up onto the internet tomorrow.

  Two hours later we’re standing in front of the Millennium Wheel on London’s South Bank and Chloe is trying to hold a camera steady while attempting not to laugh as the three members of Titteesh whirl and twirl in front of her. I’m blasting their song out of a portable stereo player and wishing the ground would swallow me up as the crowd of people in front of us grows. Suddenly two girls aged about nine or ten begin to join in with the dance routine. Alexei, the male member of the band, gasps in animated delight and encourages them to form a twirling circle.

  Mockah Chockah hot!

  Mockah Chockah slow

  Mockah Chockah now!

  Go! Go! Go!

  They chant as more kids run to join in, followed by a few laughing students. The girl band members, Regina and Varvara, join Alexei in enthusiastically welcoming every single newcomer. Regina, the blonde one, pulls me into the circle. I put on a brave face and embrace the madness as the crowd just keeps growing.

  It’s the same at Buckingham Palace, only this time there are guards trying not to look, which makes it even more hilarious.

  By the time the day is over, Chloe and I can’t get the bloody song out of our heads. I’m still singing it that night as I try to fall asleep, and in the morning when I wake up. In the shower I actually sing it out loud.

  ‘Lucy, shut UP!’ James shouts from the bedroom.

  We like a Mockah Chockah

  Like the way you move…

  ‘I’m not joking,’ he calls.

  But I can’t stop. I’ve got to hand it to them; this is catchy shit.

  ‘You didn’t just call Q magazine?’ I gasp in horror on Tuesday morning, as Gemma hangs up the phone. How embarrassing. ‘What did they say?’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘Now there’s a surprise.’

  It’s quite possibly the most surreal week of my life. In between accompanying what is surely the campest, cheesiest band on the face of the earth, to every magazine and newspaper office that will allow us through the doors, I also keep remembering that Nathan might be coming to the UK. Nerves sweep through me every time I think of him, but I’m trying not to obsess about it too much. It might never happen.

  On Thursday, Chloe and I accompany Alexei, Varvara and Regina to begin a four-day tour of the clubs in Manchester, Birmingham, Glasgow and Cardiff. We watch in amazement as they manage to get entire dance floors joining in with their insane dance routine.

  Back in London on Sunday night, we’re both exhausted, and we haven’t even started on the television and radio promotion yet. The single comes out the following morning.

  That next week is the same, passing by in a promotional blur. We’ve had over 150,000 hits on the YouTube website and the momentum is really picking up pace. Mandy calls me over to her desk on Tuesday morning. She can’t keep the smile from her face.

  ‘Check it out,’ she says, pointing to her screen. The midweek single results have come in. Titteesh and their ‘Mockah Chockah’ song are heading straight into the top spot. They’re 30,000 copies ahead of their nearest competition, which is sensational.

  ‘I think it might be time to crack open the champagne, don’t you, Lucy?’ She grins up at me.

  ‘I don’t know.’ I smile. ‘We don’t want to jinx it…’

  But the single just keeps flying off the shelves, and download sales are sky-high. Radio DJs moan and groan every time they play it, but they have to because it’s on every station’s playlist. The whole of the United Kingdom seems to have gone ‘Mockah Chockah’ crazy.

  On Friday, Mandy announces there’s no way a few glasses of champagne can jinx anything; nothing is going to keep this single from the Number One spot on Sunday. She cracks open a bottle and even cracks a smile as it fizzes all over the carpet.

  ‘To Lucy,’ she says, raising her glass at me. ‘If anyone could do it, I knew you could. And to Chloe and Gemma, as well. You girls have all done an outstanding job. Truly. Outstanding.’

  By the time I catch up with Karen and Reena after work that night, I can’t stop buzzing from all the champagne and praise coursing through my veins. We’re off to see Dirty Dancing and we meet outside the theatre at 7.15, just before the show starts. The interval is short and sweet, so it’s not until later, when we’re safely ensconced in a dark corner of a Soho bar, that we can talk properly.

  ‘Nobody puts Baby in a corner!’ Karen shouts, as she arrives back from the bar with three Seabreezes. Reena and I cringe and peek at the other punters with embarrassment.

  ‘What have you been up to this week, then, girlies?’ Karen grins. She’s changed her hair again. Now she’s got blonde extensions underneath her dyed-black real locks. I’m still not keen.

  ‘Well, you know the “Mockah Chockah” song?’ I say, sipping my vodka, cranberry and grapefruit cocktail.

  ‘I hate that song!’ Karen throws her hands up in the air.

  ‘What song?’ Reena interrupts.

  ‘You know the one.’ Karen groans. ‘Whatcha! Whatcha gotta? Gotcha! Mockah Chockah! Know you! Like a lotta! Mockah! Mockah Chockah!’

  ‘Very good.’ I laugh.

  Reena nods her head in recognition. ‘I know the one you mean…’

  ‘It’s so shit. What about it?’ Karen turns to me.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I say, giggling.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’ve been doing the PR for it. It’s going to Number One on Sunday.’

  ‘Please, God, no! I can no longer call you my friend!’ she cries, getting a few sidelong glances from the people nearby.

  ‘Oh, it’s not that bad.’ Reena laughs. ‘It’s pretty catchy. I quite li
ke it.’

  Karen looks at her with contempt.

  ‘No, no, it’s okay, Reena, you don’t have to be nice about it,’ I say. ‘I know it’s one of the worst songs ever written in the history of mankind.’

  ‘One of the?’ Karen responds. ‘The, more like. What are they like? What are their names? Vagina and Vulva or something?’

  ‘The guy is called Alexei—’

  ‘Guy? Are you sure?’ Karen interrupts.

  ‘And the girls are called Regina and Varvara.’ I laugh.

  ‘I prefer the names I gave them,’ Karen continues. ‘If you said them in a Russian accent you could almost get away with it. ’Ello. My name is Vulvarsh. And thees is my friend, Vageen…We come from the planet Titteesh.’

  Reena and I are in hysterics.

  ‘Anyway what else is new?’ Karen asks when we’ve regained our composure. ‘What’s up with you and James? All good?’

  I immediately waver between wanting to tell them about Nathan and knowing it’s not a good idea. Suddenly, on an impulse, I find I can’t stop myself.

  ‘So he’s going to be here in two and a half months?’ Karen asks eventually. She’s kept a remarkable attention span throughout my entire story, not interrupting, not giving anything away. It’s been a bit off-putting, to be honest.

  ‘Yes,’ I reply.

  ‘Lucy, what the hell are you doing? You’re playing with fire and it’s not bloody smart.’

  Bollocks. I should have listened to my intuition.

  ‘I don’t condone cheating,’ Karen carries on.

  ‘I’m not cheating; he’s just a friend!’ This was a mistake. I should have kept my mouth shut. I was hoping for empathy, not grief.

  ‘Yeah, right…’ She gives me a rueful look. ‘Just make sure it stays that way. If it gets physical, I don’t want anything to do with it.’

  ‘Chill out, for crying out loud. I would not cheat on James!’ Would I? ‘I’m just really bloody confused.’

  Reena steps in. ‘Karen, calm down. Lucy seems to know what she’s doing.’

  ‘Alright, alright!’ Karen puts her palms up. ‘I just don’t want her to get hurt, that’s all.’

  It’s then I suddenly remember Karen’s first boyfriend cheated on her when she left him behind in Hull to come down to university in London. I wonder if that’s why she’s reacting so strongly.

  ‘You’re one of my best friends, you know that, right?’ she says in her warm Yorkshire accent, grabbing my hands. I look into her brown eyes. ‘It’s your bloody star sign, that’s the problem.’ She drops my hands and sits back in her seat.

  ‘Hey?’

  ‘Libra. Same as me. Always weighing up the scales. Indecision, indecision.’

  ‘You’re not unsure about Alan, though, are you?’

  ‘No, he’s lovely. But you remember what I was like about media studies and hairdressing.’

  ‘True.’ I soften. ‘What do you think?’ I turn to Reena, tentatively. I still haven’t heard her verdict yet.

  ‘Lucy, you’ve always been a smart girl,’ she says, and from her it doesn’t sound patronising. ‘I know you’ll do the right thing.’

  Suddenly the ‘Mockah Chockah’ song comes blasting out of the sound system.

  ‘Come on, let’s do the dance!’ I jump up as Karen moans. But she makes an effort to twirl her arms and spin around as the rest of the bar descends into chaos.

  The next day is Saturday and, apart from one television appearance in the morning, Titteesh are no longer my concern. I should be enjoying my freedom but I can’t get Karen’s negativity out of my mind. It’s the same on Sunday. I don’t even feel like calling Nathan and telling him about my mad couple of weeks. I know he’d find it funny, but something holds me back.

  That evening, when ‘Mockah Chockah’ is confirmed as the UK’s Number One single, James gives me a gorgeous bunch of pink, purple and orange gerberas.

  ‘To match the group’s costumes.’ He laughs. ‘Well done, baby. What a result.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘What’s wrong? You don’t seem very pleased?’ he queries.

  ‘No, I am. But I’m exhausted after all that.’

  ‘It’s been a tough PR job. But Mandy must be well chuffed with you. You’ll get a promotion and a whopping great pay rise in no time. Soon you’ll be nipping at my heels,’ he jokes.

  I find myself wondering if he would mind me earning more than him. He’s always been the main breadwinner and that’s never really bothered me. In fact, it’s been quite reassuring knowing I’d have the security in the (distant) future if I wanted to cut back on my hours and have kids. I can’t bear the notion of putting my career on hold yet, though.

  How would I feel if I were the main breadwinner? That’s probably how it would be with Nathan, and I’m not sure I’m entirely comfortable with that thought.

  Oh, God. What’s it going to be like if he comes over here? I know everything between us will change if he’s in England, and that terrifies me. It’s all very well getting to know someone on holiday, but when they suddenly materialise on your doorstep, in your world…

  It’s plain from the last time Nathan and I spoke, that James is starting to feel funny about our conversations. What will he be like when Nathan is here in person?

  And how will Nathan feel when he meets James? That’s perhaps even more worrying to me, and I’m not proud of it. James has never been anything more than a name to Nathan but once he comes, literally, face to face with the reality that is my long-term boyfriend, it could scare him off completely.

  There’s also the little matter of how I’ll feel when I see Nathan again. It’s as I explained to Chloe some time ago: at the moment he’s safe. He’s on the other side of the world. He’s not real. He’s not flawed. I’ve been carrying around this fantasy image of a sexy surfer and I’m worried that, in actuality, Nathan won’t live up to it.

  And then of course there’s the worry that he will.

  Chapter 19

  It’s early August and Gemma has invited us for a barbeque on Primrose Hill.

  ‘What a pain in the arse,’ James is moaning as we make our convoluted way by tube. ‘It probably would have been quicker to walk.’

  ‘Cheer up, we’re nearly there now,’ I say, reaching over to squeeze his hand. He’s carrying the rucksack with all our things. We’ve packed the rug he bought last summer for our picnic in Dorset Square, plus a whole host of other goodies like Moroccan couscous, potato salad, crisps, raspberries and strawberries. We’ll never be able to eat it all.

  Primrose Hill is busy all year round, but right now, in August, it’s positively heaving. People stand at the top of the hill like soldiers, looking down over the city. We find Gemma, her boyfriend, Martin, Chloe and a few other guys and girls we don’t know, halfway up the hill, under a tree. They’ve already got the portable barbeque set up and smoking. Gemma told me definitely not to bring anything for the barbeque because Martin had gone way overboard with sausages and beefburgers. She wasn’t lying.

  ‘Hey,’ she calls, as we approach. James met Gemma and Chloe at a bar launch we PR-ed last November and he kisses them hello now. Gemma introduces us to Martin and her friends. Martin is tall, skinny and has short black hair. The last time I saw him he was collecting a very drunk Gemma from the Luigi party. He looks a lot happier now.

  After lunch, when the others have gone off to play Frisbee, Chloe turns to me and asks about Nathan.

  ‘Has he booked his flight yet?’

  ‘Not yet, but I got a text from him last week and it appears his visa application is going through so it should all be happening. I haven’t spoken to him for a few weeks, though.’ Nor have I listened to his tape. I even have a joke for him but I can’t bring myself to call him, and it has nothing to do with the fact that the last phone bill came in at a whopping £80 and I had to hide it from James.

  ‘Really?’ She’s surprised at my downbeat manner. ‘You haven’t gone off him, have you?’

&nbs
p; ‘I’m not a teenager,’ I joke. Then I sigh. ‘You know what? In all honesty, I am a bit freaked out. I know I sound fickle, but I felt so at ease, chatting to him on the phone before. Now he might be coming here…I don’t even know if I’ll still be attracted to him in London.’

  ‘Yeah, I know that feeling,’ she says. ‘I once had a holiday romance with a guy called Franz in Germany. When he turned up unannounced in London a couple of months later I almost died! I didn’t fancy him at all. He looked totally out of place on my turf.’

  Moments later James comes back and flops down on the rug next to us. He pulls me back so I’m leaning up against him; his T-shirt is damp from his sweat. Frisky business, this Frisbee lark.

  ‘What are you girls talking about?’ He’s slightly out of breath.

  ‘Oh, men,’ Chloe answers casually and I look over at her in alarm.

  ‘Yeah? What about them?’

  ‘I need one!’

  ‘Do you?’ he asks her, leaning up on one elbow now and flashing his trademark cheeky grin. I sit back up.

  ‘Yes,’ she says. ‘Know any nice single men?’

  ‘Actually,’ he replies, ‘I do know a couple of guys from work.’

  ‘I hope you’re not talking about Hector and Terence,’ I say, sternly.

  He laughs. ‘No, they’re not good enough for you.’ He grins at Chloe and she blushes.

  Looks like Charming James has come out to play.

  ‘Set me up on a double date, then.’ She smiles.

  Soon afterwards, Gemma and the others appear back up the hill, followed by the Frisbee brigade.

  ‘We were thinking we might wander down to the zoo a little later. Want to come?’ she asks.

  I look over at James. ‘Probably not. We went last year, didn’t we, hon?’

  ‘Hey,’ Martin says, ‘did you hear about the escaping monkeys last summer?’