A Desirable Residence

by Madeleine Wickham

  ‘Well, goodbye, Marcus,’ said Leo smoothly, as they were handed their coats. ‘Good to do business with you.’ Marcus nodded curtly, pulled on his herringbone coat, and hurried down the thickly carpeted stairs towards the exit of the restaurant. He suddenly wanted to get out of the place; to leave all of them behind. Leo, Liz, the lot of them. He could barely believe that he’d bumped into Liz like that. Christ knew what might have happened, what might inadvertently have come out. The thought made him shiver, and curse himself unreasonably. He shouldn’t have agreed to going to the restaurant in the first place. They should have met at Leo’s place instead. Really, he might have known he would bump into someone he knew, he told himself angrily. And he might have known it would be Liz.

  He recalled Leo’s teasing comment, and felt a tingle in the base of his spine. Did Leo really suspect something? Had he guessed at the truth? And would he, out of some sort of malice, make his suspicions known to Anthea? Marcus suddenly, irrationally, pictured Leo picking up the phone; speaking to Anthea; smoothly insinuating and hinting, while Anthea’s bewildered frown got deeper and deeper. The bastard. He would fucking kill him if he said anything.

  Then common sense took over. Leo hadn’t meant anything. He wouldn’t say anything. He had no reason to make an enemy of Marcus. As his steps took him further away from the restaurant; further away from the danger, Marcus was able to reassure himself that it had just been bad luck.

  But the encounter had left him feeling wary and on guard. What if he bumped into her again? What if Anthea had been with him? She would have been bound to notice something, with Liz getting so flushed and animated. He recalled Liz’s pink cheeks and sparkling eyes, and shuddered. Once upon a time the sight of those would have made him excited, made him look forward even more to their next encounter. Now it just made his heart sink slightly. Obviously she thought everything was still the same between them. Didn’t she realize why he kept cancelling their meetings? Had she unwittingly misunderstood the message he was trying to give? Or even deliberately?

  It came to Marcus that he had to make things plain to her soon, very soon. He couldn’t let her think things were going to carry on as they had done; couldn’t run the risk of bumping into her again before they’d got everything straightened out. It shouldn’t be too difficult, he told himself. After all, he reasoned, she had a husband to think about, just as he had a wife. A very nice husband, too.

  Probably, he thought comfortingly to himself, as he reached his car and flicked the door open with his remote control, probably Liz was thinking the same as him. Probably she’d had quite enough of the affair, too. He thought back to her flushed cheeks. He’d probably got it all wrong. Probably she’d just been embarrassed to see him when she was with her daughter. He switched on the engine and relaxed back into his seat. What a fuss over nothing, he thought to himself. It was all going to be absolutely fine.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  On the day of the party, Alice woke early. She got out of bed, put a sweatshirt on over her pyjamas, and padded into the kitchen. Outside the sky was grey and menacing, and the whole room looked even more depressing than usual. She looked at the clock. Seven o’clock. And today her morning started with a double free period so she didn’t have to be in school till ten. Normally she would have had a lie-in and then a leisurely breakfast in front of the television. But she was too excited to go back to bed. She wanted it to be this evening now.

  She thought lovingly of her new dress, hanging up ready in her wardrobe, and her new, very expensive tights, and her new, purplish-brown lipstick that had taken an hour after school to choose. Ginny had said Alice could come round early, before the party, and she’d help her put on her make-up and do her hair. Alice was almost looking forward to that bit best. She adored people putting make-up on her, and fiddling with her hair, and she adored being in Piers’s and Ginny’s bedroom, which always seemed to smell of Ginny’s lovely scent and be full of new and interesting things. Sometimes she looked around when she was in there and could hardly believe that it used to be her parents’ bedroom, smelling of nothing in particular, and full of books and newspapers and clutter.

  She wandered over to the kettle, automatically switched it on, and leaned against the counter, impatiently tweaking the electrical cord as though that would make it boil quicker. Twelve whole hours till the party. It was going to be unbearable. Then, with a sudden thrill, she remembered what else was happening today. It was Piers’s second Summer Street audition. Or whatever it was. Piers always talked of it as an audition, but Ginny always wrinkled up her nose and said, ‘It’s not really an audition, is it? More like a meeting.’ Alice didn’t really know what the difference was. But it was definitely happening today. They would be getting up earlier than usual, in time for Piers to catch the mid-morning train to London. Alice pictured them all—Piers, Ginny and Duncan—sitting round the breakfast table, making jokes about Summer Street, planning last-minute details for the party, and pouring out deliciously strong coffee for each other. She looked disparagingly at her own mug, ready for a spoonful of Nescafé. Suddenly she wanted to be there with them. It would be so cool, to drop in before school and wish Piers luck. Then, whenever Summer Street was on, she would be able to point to Piers on screen and say things like, ‘God, I remember the day he got the part. We were having breakfast together.’

  She savoured the image for a moment, then switched the kettle off, and hurried back to her room. On the way, she passed her mother, coming, bleary-eyed, along the corridor.

  ‘The kettle’s hot,’ said Alice kindly. ‘I’m going out for breakfast.’ She registered with satisfaction her mother’s look of surprise, and then disappeared behind her door, to choose the least gross of her grey uniform skirts and put on as much eyeliner and mascara as she would be able to get away with.

  When she got to Russell Street, she momentarily hesitated. She often dropped in on Ginny and Piers, but not on weekday mornings. Still, today was a special day, she thought to herself. And when she peered in through the kitchen window of number twelve, she was delighted to see them all there as she had imagined, sitting round the table, holding those gorgeous painted mugs, looking like something in an advert. Duncan caught her eye, and waved, saying something to Ginny and Piers. Ginny’s head immediately shot round. She didn’t look that pleased to see Alice; in fact, she was looking really tense. But Alice supposed that was just because of the audition. Meeting. Whatever.

  ‘You look wonderful!’ she said enthusiastically to Piers as he opened the kitchen door for her. ‘Really brown! How come?’

  ‘He doesn’t look that brown,’ snapped Ginny. ‘It’s just a bit of a glow. Just to liven him up.’ The sunbed had been her idea, and now a tingle of worry was growing in her stomach. Did he look too tanned? Summer Street was, after all, a very British soap opera.

  ‘Well, I think it looks brilliant,’ said Alice honestly. She stared at Piers. ‘And that blue shirt looks really good.’

  ‘This shirt is great,’ said Piers, tugging at it fondly. ‘I always do well in this shirt.’ He caught Ginny’s eye and grinned. For a moment her expression remained tense. Then suddenly she broke into a smile.

  ‘Sit down, Alice,’ she said, patting a chair. ‘Are you on your way to school?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Alice. ‘I just thought I’d come and say good luck. Not that you need it,’ she added hastily.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Piers, grinning. ‘You can never have too much luck.’

  He looked really good, thought Alice wistfully. Really good-looking and confident, just like a famous actor . . .

  ‘Have you had breakfast?’ enquired Duncan, standing at the stove. ‘Would you like my famous scrambled eggs?’

  ‘Yes please,’ said Alice joyfully.

  ‘And some coffee,’ added Ginny, passing her the cafetière. ‘Help yourself to a mug,’ she added, gesturing to the shelf behind Alice.

  Afterwards, Alice couldn’t work out how it could have happened. One minu
te, she was grasping firmly hold of the handle of the cafetière and turning round in her seat to pick up her favourite mug with a mermaid painted on it. The next, Piers was yelling furiously, and clutching a sleeve dripping with hot coffee.

  ‘Alice!’ yelled Ginny and Duncan simultaneously. Then Duncan, seeing Alice turn very pale and then very red, added, ‘What a shame! Quick, Piers, off with that shirt. Is your arm OK?’

  ‘It’s fine,’ said Piers shakily. He gave Alice a smile. ‘Don’t worry!’

  Alice stared at him in shattered disbelief.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered. She looked at his wet, reddened arm in horror as he peeled back his sleeve. His shirt was stained brown in patches. She didn’t know what to say.

  ‘How could you do something so stupid?’ Ginny’s voice hit her ears like whiplash.

  ‘Ginny!’ Piers’s voice filled the kitchen with reproof. Alice shrank in her chair. She couldn’t believe she’d done such an awful thing. She should have stayed safely at home. ‘It’s not a problem,’ Piers was saying. ‘I’ll just go and change my shirt.’

  ‘But is your arm OK?’ Alice didn’t dare look at Ginny’s face. She sounded absolutely furious.

  ‘My arm’s fine,’ said Piers firmly. Alice risked a glance at him. His mouth was set straight, and his eyes were forebodingly dark.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’

  ‘For God’s sake!’ said Piers in mock-irritation. ‘It’s not such a disaster.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’d better go and find another shirt.’

  ‘But that was your lucky shirt,’ wailed Ginny as he stood up.

  ‘Well, I’d better wear one of my unlucky ones then,’ said Piers evenly. Ginny sagged down into her chair when he had gone.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ she said brokenly.

  ‘Come on, Ginny!’ said Duncan. ‘Brace up! Piers is fine.’

  ‘But it’s such a bad omen,’ persisted Ginny.

  ‘Bullshit!’ said Duncan robustly. ‘It could have been a lot worse. What if he’d spilled coffee over himself in the waiting-room at the television studios?’

  ‘Yes, but . . .’ began Ginny. She stopped. Alice knew what she was thinking. But he didn’t spill the coffee over himself, did he?

  ‘Ginny, I’m really sorry,’ she said tremulously. ‘I don’t know how it happened.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ said Ginny, relenting slightly. ‘It was just an accident. Accidents happen.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Piers is going to miss his train if he doesn’t hurry up,’ she said fretfully.

  ‘I thought he was catching the eleven o’clock?’ said Alice without thinking.

  ‘Yes, well, he decided to catch the earlier one, didn’t he?’ said Ginny shortly. She sighed. ‘Look, Alice, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted at you. It’s just . . .’ She swallowed, and pushed a hand through her hair. ‘This is quite an important day for us.’ Alice nodded mutely, and looked miserably at the coffee still puddling on the table, dripping down onto Piers’s chair and the wooden floor. Should she offer to clear it up? Might she not then knock something else over? She felt as though her own hands and limbs were no longer to be trusted.

  ‘Look, Ginny,’ said Duncan gently, ‘why don’t you go upstairs and sort Piers out, and Alice can help me clear this lot up. What about it?’ For a few moments, Ginny sat immobile, staring blankly at the table. Then she seemed to shake herself, and looked up.

  ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I’ll go and see if Piers has got another shirt he can wear.’ Without looking at Alice, she abruptly stood up, and left the kitchen.

  Alice watched her go, then promptly, and to her great shame, burst into tears.

  ‘Oh Alice,’ said Duncan. ‘Don’t do that. We’ve got enough surplus liquid in this kitchen already.’ Alice’s sobs increased. ‘Look,’ he said, sitting down next to her, and putting an arm round her shoulders, ‘Ginny’s just ratty this morning. Don’t take any notice of her. You couldn’t help it.’

  ‘I’m so stupid,’ sobbed Alice. ‘I’ve ruined it all for Piers.’

  ‘No you haven’t,’ said Duncan. He thought for a minute. ‘It was probably just what he needed, to take his mind off things,’ he added.

  ‘You’re just saying that,’ shuddered Alice, but with a note of hope in her voice.

  ‘I’m not,’ said Duncan. ‘Anyway, Piers is tough as old boots. You don’t need to worry about him. Now, if you’d spilled a pot of coffee over me, it would have been a different story, I can tell you!’ His voice rose on an indignant note, and Alice gave a half-giggle, in spite of herself.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Duncan. ‘Now, what I think you should do is go to school.’ Alice looked up woefully.

  ‘But what about the kitchen?’ she said.

  ‘I’ll clear up the kitchen,’ said Duncan, putting on his actor’s voice, ‘with my super-speed extra power Mr Clean-Fast. Did I tell you I got a commercial, by the way?’ he added. ‘Filming next month. Lots of dosh.’

  ‘No,’ said Alice, momentarily diverted. ‘That’s really good! What for?’

  ‘Tooth powder,’ said Duncan. ‘I play a tooth.’

  ‘Wow!’ Alice giggled, and pushed her hair back. She rubbed her face with her sleeve, and gave a huge sniff.

  ‘Good girl,’ said Duncan approvingly. He picked up her school bag and handed it to her.

  ‘Now,’ he said, ‘we’ll see you later on at the party. Come nice and early.’

  ‘Ginny was going to do my make-up,’ said Alice, in a woebegone voice. ‘I don’t suppose she’ll want to do it now.’

  ‘Of course she will,’ said Duncan. ‘But if she’s too busy,’ he added diplomatically, ‘I’ll do it.’

  ‘You?’ Alice looked at him sceptically. ‘Can you do make-up?’

  ‘Can I do make-up?’ echoed Duncan indignantly, shooing her out of the kitchen door. ‘Can I do make-up? What on earth do you think I went to drama school for?’

  Anthea spent breakfast standing up, sitting down, making slices of toast and cutting them into smaller and smaller pieces till they disintegrated. She was watched by a resigned Hannah, who followed her about the kitchen with a jay-cloth, an unconcerned Daniel and Andrew, and an amused Marcus. When Hannah had chivvied the boys off to get ready for school, she turned agonized eyes on Marcus.

  ‘Do you think we could phone them up?’

  ‘No,’ said Marcus cheerfully. ‘I don’t. They said they’d contact the school.’

  ‘I know.’ Anthea put her nail anxiously to her mouth, began to bite it, then thought better of it. ‘They’re having the meeting this morning,’ she said slowly, as though trying to memorize lines. ‘They’ll make a decision by lunchtime.’

  ‘Unless they can’t decide,’ suggested Marcus. ‘Or unless they decide not to give any scholarships this year.’ Anthea shot him a look of annoyance.

  ‘Then they’ll phone the school.’

  ‘And then the school will phone us,’ said Marcus. ‘There’s nothing we can do until then.’

  ‘But you know what these organizations are like,’ said Anthea desperately. ‘Last year it was days before anyone heard.’ She pulled her dressing-gown comfortingly around her. ‘There must be some way we can find out sooner.’

  ‘We’re not even sure the meeting’s today,’ said Marcus soothingly. ‘I really don’t think there’s any point worrying about it.’

  ‘Mr Chambers told me the meeting was definitely today,’ said Anthea crossly. ‘He knows about these things. He’s a friend of the headmaster of Bourne.’ A strange look passed her face. ‘Of course!’ she exclaimed suddenly.

  ‘What?’ said Marcus. He looked at her suspiciously.

  ‘We’ll get Mr Chambers to phone up the headmaster this afternoon and ask.’

  ‘No we won’t!’ said Marcus. ‘We can’t ask him to do a thing like that!’

  ‘Why not?’ Anthea stuck her chin out at him. ‘He’ll be just as concerned to know as we are.’ She picked up the cordless
phone and began to jab at the buttons.

  ‘I don’t want to hear this,’ said Marcus. ‘I’m going to clean my teeth.’ He stood up, and shook his newspaper at Anthea. ‘He won’t do it. I can tell you that now.’

  But when he came back down into the kitchen, holding his briefcase and ready to go to work, Anthea was simpering down the phone.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ she said. ‘Goodbye.’ She put down the receiver and smirked at Marcus.

  ‘Did he agree to it?’ said Marcus in amazement.

  ‘Yes,’ said Anthea triumphantly. ‘I knew he would. He said if we want to pop round after work, he should have got through to Bourne by then.’

  ‘Do we both have to go?’ said Marcus grudgingly.

  ‘Yes,’ said Anthea. ‘And then we’ll go on to the party. Apparently Mr Chambers and his wife are going to it, too. I said we could take them.’ She raised innocent eyes to Marcus. ‘The Prentices’ party. You remember.’ Marcus scowled.

  ‘Why don’t we just forget the party?’ he said impulsively. ‘Why don’t we go out to dinner instead? Either way. To celebrate or commiserate.’

  ‘Oh no!’ said Anthea. ‘I’ve arranged my appointment at the hairdresser’s now. And I’ve bought a new dress. We can’t not go. And anyway, it’ll be fun.’ She wrinkled her nose at Marcus. ‘Why don’t you want to go?’

  ‘Oh, I do,’ said Marcus quickly. ‘I do. It’ll be tremendous fun.’ He picked up his briefcase and gave Anthea a warmer-than-usual kiss. He would be very glad, he thought darkly, when the day was over, and everything had been settled. One way or the other.