Looking for Andrew McCarthy

by Jenny Colgan

  ‘Hypothetically speaking,’ said Mr Rooney, ‘they wouldn’t have a job to come back to.’

  ‘That’s hypothetically very interesting.’

  ‘No, that’s actually very interesting, and I’d recommend it be noted.’

  On Sunday morning, Julia and Loxy strode down Battersea Rise towards Elms carrying their own bodyweight in newsprint.

  ‘This isn’t going to be fun,’ Julia mused. ‘I mean, I’m sorry she had a bad birthday and everything, but I don’t think this trip is going to work out and I don’t want to have a row.’

  ‘The two of us don’t really row, do we?’ asked Loxy thoughtfully.

  Julia looked at him sideways. ‘So … ?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Fine, then.’ Julia spotted Arthur coming from the opposite direction and waved him over. Colin trotted on ahead into the bar. He was wearing a baseball jacket and a cap with stars and stripes on it.

  ‘You forgot to lock the gate behind you again, didn’t you?’

  ‘It’s not my fault the paper boy forgot to add in the Funday Times.’

  ‘I thought Colin was the paper boy.’

  ‘Ha ha.’

  ‘Aha, it’s the annoying little brother I never had,’ said Ellie as Colin entered. She was leafing through an enormous pile of travel brochures and eating pancakes with one hand.

  Ellie didn’t mean to be so short with Colin. She realized that in fact, these days, almost anyone younger than her doing anything at all pissed her off. Surely anyone younger than her should still be doing English comprehension tests and appearing on Young Musician of the Year, and certainly shouldn’t be working for a living or having opinions or driving cars and things. If Ellie was elected as an MP (an unlikely occurrence), she wouldn’t even be the youngest MP in the House of Commons. She thought about this a lot.

  ‘Where’s Arthur?’

  Colin shrugged and twisted.

  ‘He said he was going to see a man about a dog … I think he might be buying me a puppy for Christmas.’

  ‘Colin, you live with your parents and their house is really small. Where would the dog live?’

  He shrugged. ‘In a drawer maybe. Puppies aren’t big.’

  ‘Okay, so if under any circumstances you can conceive of Arthur not wanting to buy you a dog, do you have any idea where else he might have gone?’

  He shrugged again. ‘And I saw Julia up the hill.’

  ‘Oh, right.’

  ‘Why can’t I come to America?’ said Colin crossly.

  ‘Because there’d be too many of us. And you don’t understand.’

  ‘I do understand.’

  ‘Okay then, complete this well known phrase … “Who you gonna call?”’

  Colin shrugged. ‘The Samaritans?’

  Ellie poked at her pancake. ‘Possibly. Look, Colin, you wouldn’t like it.’

  ‘I would.’

  ‘You wouldn’t. We’re not even going to Disneyland.’

  Colin sat upright.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really we’re not.’

  ‘You’re bonkers.’

  Ellie nodded as the others filed in looking reticent.

  ‘Look, guys! I have brochures!’

  ‘Ehm, yeah. Hedgehog.’

  Arthur had spoken up first.

  ‘Look, I know you want to do this and you think it would be brilliant and I’m sure it would, but, you know Hedge …’

  Ellie’s face fell. She supposed, on some level, this was inevitable. People never committed to things anymore, even your best friends. Especially not in London. She supposed if she lived in a former coal mining town in the North she’d go everywhere with the same crowd her whole life. And probably have more fun. Down in London if you didn’t have fifteen things crossed out every day in your palm pilot there was something wrong with you. Why was that?

  She picked up a piece of toast.

  ‘But guys.’

  ‘Look, it’s just not practical,’ said Julia. ‘Everyone’s so busy, and rushing about so much.’

  ‘And I really can’t afford it. I’d have loved to come, really,’ said Arthur.

  ‘Oh, shit,’ said Ellie with a sigh.

  ‘I’d have liked to have come too,’ said Loxy. Julia gave him a look. ‘But we decided best not.’

  ‘I wanted to come,’ said Colin. ‘If we were going to Disneyland.’

  ‘But nothing’s going to happen,’ said Ellie. ‘This isn’t how Bob Geldof would have wanted it.’

  She stared into space as the others ordered breakfast and coffee. An uncomfortable silence descended, and Arthur started fishing in the papers.

  Suddenly, the door to Elms flew open. Standing there was a very pink and white ice-cold, shaking Siobhan. ‘Heh … He … he … hE,’ she spluttered. ‘He … he …’

  Julia jumped up immediately. ‘What is it? Come over, sit down. What’s the matter?’

  Arthur furnished her with a glass of water until she stopped hyperventilating.

  ‘He … he …’

  ‘Is it Patrick?’ asked Julia. Siobhan nodded vehemently.

  ‘Oh no! Have you split up?’

  Siobhan nodded violently and indicated with her hands that there was more to it.

  ‘Oh God! He LEFT you?’

  She nodded again and indicated more.

  ‘What a bastard!’ said Ellie.

  ‘He left you for someone ELSE?’

  More nodding.

  ‘Twat,’ said Arthur.

  Siobhan was valiantly indicating more.

  ‘He left you for someone … he was ALREADY SEEING?’

  The nodding became more pronounced.

  ‘Arsehole!’ said Loxy. Siobhan began gesticulating wildly at the fourth finger of her left hand.

  ‘He ate all the HULA hoops?’ said Colin.

  ‘They’re getting married?’

  Siobhan was practically yelping.

  ‘Cocksucking son of a BITCH,’ said Arthur. Siobhan hadn’t finished. She pointed desperately to her stomach.

  Julia drew in a breath and went very, very quiet.

  ‘She’s … pregnant?’

  Siobhan burst into enormous sobs.

  ‘CUNT,’ said Ellie.

  They clung onto Siobhan as best they could until she could finally talk again, which was a long time, and a couple of emergency rounds of Bloody Marys, and lots of vicious and vengeful plotting and grimly muttered curses later. Eventually Siobhan quietened enough to hold up her hand a second. She fumbled about in her bag.

  ‘I’m going to get him,’ she snivelled. ‘So many ways. Starting here, with the only fucking thing he cares about.’

  Gulping madly she held up Patrick’s gold card.

  And with her other hand she drew out four return tickets to Los Angeles.

  ‘Oh, crap,’ said Colin sulkily, doing a quick head count.

  The Sure Thing

  ‘… and I thought when we’re driving up through the desert we should stop and pick up hitchhikers.’

  ‘Sorry, did you just say hitchhikers or no hitchhikers?’ said Arthur, turning his picture of the Grand Canyon upside down.

  ‘Yes hitchhikers. You know – like Thelma and Louise.’

  ‘Or The Hitcher! I think I’m going to recommend No Hitchhikers.’

  ‘Oh, yeah. Hmm. Also, can we go to San José?’

  ‘Don’t start,’ Arthur grimaced. ‘Oh, okay. Are you appraised of the route?’

  Ellie giggled.

  ‘I cannot wait till you lot fuckin’ disappear,’ said Big Bastard. He was slumped in his armchair, blithely chopping between sports channels, watching anything from ping pong to women’s gymnastics. Particularly women’s gymnastics. Outside it was pissing it down and the pictures of palm trees seemed more alluring than ever.

  ‘Where’s Siobhan tonight?’ asked Julia, lying on the carpet under Loxy’s big arm, licking the top off a French Fancy.

  That morning in the restaurant, Siobhan had handed over the tickets then
stood up saying, ‘I don’t care if you use them or not. I don’t care if you chuck them in the bin. Just can everyone stop talking about how pettily miserable they are all the time and fucking do something about it? Then those of us who truly are miserable can get on with it in peace and quiet.’

  Ellie looked up. ‘She’s keying his Suzuki jeep. In stripes.’

  ‘I still can’t believe it,’ said Julia. Big Bastard snorted loudly.

  ‘Oh, have you got some useful emotional insight to bring to bear on the situation?’ asked Ellie. Big Bastard turned round and opened his enormous meaty paws.

  ‘He’s a bloke, right. And this girl comes up to him, right. And she’s twenty-one, right. And she’s a ballerina, right?’

  All these things were, tragically, true. Big Bastard shrugged.

  ‘And?’ said Julia.

  Big Bastard looked at Loxy. ‘Well, d’uh.’ Loxy didn’t return the look.

  ‘We’ll try and bring you back an appropriate present from America,’ said Ellie.

  ‘Like a big, pink, glazed American ham, to remind you of your face.’

  ‘Or an American goat, to remind you of how your room smells,’ said Arthur. ‘Duckie.’

  ‘Actually I’m thinking that I might just rent out your room when you’re gone,’ said Big Bastard to Ellie.

  ‘Who to? Rentokil?’

  ‘Oh, guys, can we go to Chicago as well?’ said Julia, lifting up the map of America for a second.

  ‘What’s in Chicago?’

  ‘Well, I reckon if the Hedgehog gets to look for Andrew McCarthy I should get a stab at the cast of ER.’

  ‘Nobody like you. Maybe I’ll rent it out to a gorgeous bird with really massive knockers.’

  ‘Don’t tell me – who can also do gymnastics?’

  ‘Maybe. It’s my flat. I could if I wanted to.’

  ‘Go ahead. Try it. You have my blessing. I only wish I could be there to watch when you’re laughed out of the International Homeless Big Titty Gymnast’s Convention in Munich.’

  Ellie spread out a map on the floor.

  ‘Okay everyone, here are His last known movements,’ she announced.

  ‘He’s been in a play in New York, a film in Los Angeles and a film in Toronto.’

  ‘Hang on! No-one ever said anything about Toronto,’ said Arthur, worriedly. ‘November in Toronto – that’s not a holiday, that’s a Ranulph Fiennes expedition. It’s California or nothing.’

  ‘I don’t think he’s there now. Don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of time to have fun in the sun and hit the red hot Andrew trail!’

  ‘That red hot fifteen-year-old Andrew trail!’

  ‘Can we … are we going to go to Vegas?’ asked Loxy suddenly. The others looked at him.

  ‘Not for any reason! I don’t know why anyone would want to got there! It was just a random city plucked out of the air! I don’t care where we go. Ehm, are we going to … Pasadena?’

  ‘Make some more tea will you Loxy?’ Julia asked. He did so immediately.

  ‘I think we should definitely go to Vegas,’ said Ellie. ‘Then maybe as well as getting to meet Andrew McCarthy, Robert Redford might offer me a million pounds to sleep with him. What a holiday this is turning out to be.’

  ‘I’m really looking forward to this aren’t you?’ tried Loxy as he and Julia walked home through the pounding rain.

  ‘Uh huh. Well, if it shuts Ellie up for a bit. And Jeez, hot weather in November – I can’t wait.’

  Suddenly, Loxy turned to her with a strange expression on his face.

  ‘Julia … I can’t think of a good way to do this, or to be dashingly romantic or anything but …’

  He knelt down in the road. His right knee went straight into a puddle, but he ignored it. It was pouring.

  ‘I thought that … well, what Ellie’s been saying has really made me think about life, and where we’re all headed and everything, and I wondered if, well, when we got to Vegas … that you’d do me the honour of becoming my …’

  ‘What?’ said Julia, not paying attention. Then:

  ‘Oh MY GOD.’ She whirled around. ‘WHAT?! WHAT!!? TELL me you don’t have a ring.’

  Loxy rummaged deep into his inside pocket and brought out the small box.

  ‘I bought this after our third date,’ he said, quietly. ‘I’ve been carrying it around ever since.’

  All Julia could do was stare at him, getting increasingly soaked in the gutter as he gazed up at her imploringly.

  ‘Oh God, Loxy … but this is so soon. I mean, it’s only been …’

  ‘Two years.’

  ‘Really? It’s been that long? Christ.’

  She walked forward a few steps then turned round looking thoughtful.

  ‘Don’t you love me?’ said Loxy, his voice quavering.

  ‘Of course I do. You know I do, sweetheart. It’s just that – God – I mean, getting married … that’s what grown-ups do.’

  ‘No, I think they let all sorts of people get married … especially in Vegas …’ said Loxy, disappointedly. He looked up at her again with big puppy dog eyes.

  ‘Loxy,’ she said, unaccountably angry with him. ‘I’m sorry. But I don’t know the answer to the question.’

  ‘So that means “no”, does it?’ he said, slowly.

  ‘No it doesn’t mean “no”!’ said Julia, stung. ‘It means … it means, oh my God, it means, you just said the most surprising thing anyone ever said to me and I don’t know what the hell to think about it.’

  ‘And you can’t think of a good way to let me down gently.’

  ‘No, Loxy. For God’s sake, it’s just a surprise, that’s all.’

  He stuck his bottom lip out.

  ‘Well, I know how I feel.’

  ‘Yes, and you’ve had two years minus three dates to get used to it! Whereas I’ve had nineteen seconds! And that’s not fair! And, for God’s sake, stand up.’

  Very slowly, Loxy put the box back in his pocket and stood up.

  ‘I feel stupid,’ he said.

  ‘You look stupid,’ she said, tenderly. The rain continued to pound down on both of them.

  He started to laugh.

  ‘Great. I’m stupid and you’re finishing with me.’

  ‘I am not fucking finishing with you! Stop being a baby!’

  She stalked ahead of him.

  Already drenched, Loxy looked at the ground and started to splosh up and down in the puddles.

  ‘I’m laughing at clouds,’ Loxy started singing mournfully to himself.

  ‘You’re not listening to me. I just need time to think about this, okay? It’s just come out of the blue.’

  ‘… so high up above …’

  ‘Okay, Lox, I’m going to go home now. We can talk tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ve sun in my heart …’ splish splosh.

  ‘I’ll phone you tomorrow. I’ll think about it, I promise.’

  She practically ran down the grey and empty street.

  ‘… and I’m ready for love …’ splish splosh splish splosh.

  ‘Wanky doodle dandy!’ said Ellie.

  ‘Can’t you at least try and be constructive?’ said Siobhan to her. ‘This is exactly the kind of crap you came out with when Patrick … went away.’

  ‘Actually, that is kind of how I feel,’ said Julia. ‘Just a random line of gibberish.’

  ‘But I don’t know what to say,’ complained Ellie. ‘Nobody ever asks me anything interesting. I get freaked out if someone asks me if I want large fries. Why don’t we all have another Bloody Mary. Then we’ll try and talk sense.’

  ‘I think those two things might be mutually exclusive,’ said Julia, but made up another batch anyway.

  Julia had gone home and sat in the tiny darkened living room of her tiny darkened flat – she’d deliberately bought a small one-bedroom so that Ellie could never conceivably move in with her. She’d always liked the way it was furnished, although these days she was noticing just how much Ikea there actually was – and t
ried to think long and hard into the night, but she wasn’t really of a philosophical turn of mind. So after about fifteen minutes she’d phoned up the cavalry and after mass screaming, they’d marched around with Worcestershire sauce and celery sticks; even Siobhan was temporarily roused from her Medusa-like life-long evil plottings long enough to empathize. Which was pretty good of her, seeing as Julia suddenly had the exact opposite of her own problem. Arthur was excluded – he was going to be furious, as he’d always insisted he’d had just as many childhood wedding dress fantasies as they had, but this was a woman-thing deep down, no doubt about it.

  ‘I thought … if, or when it ever happened, it would be, like, just the most exciting moment of my life,’ moaned Julia, sucking loudly through a straw.

  ‘That’s because the people that made the whole thing up had never had sex,’ said Ellie. ‘It was a tossup between getting engaged or dying in the throes of having a bastard in a workhouse.’

  ‘Yes, thank you Catherine Cookson,’ said Siobhan. ‘Well, I say, if someone asks you, you should just say yes immediately. It’s going to fail anyway, and at least this way people buy you stuff and pay you lots of attention.’

  ‘Me and Loxy wouldn’t fail! We’d be fine! It’s just, I’d kind of hoped for amazing, not fine.’

  ‘When you first met Loxy you swore he was the most amazing thing that had ever happened to you.’

  ‘Yes, but that’s the same in every new relationship, isn’t it? It’s new person sex voodoo. I don’t think I wore pants for six months, and if I did wear them they were made out of polyurethane and feathers. But now … we’re just …’

  ‘Big pants,’ said Ellie suddenly.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re in the “big pants”, stage of your relationship. Okay, what pants are you wearing?’

  Julia shrugged.

  ‘I’m wearing La Perla,’ said Siobhan.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Ellie. ‘You’re suddenly single, and you never know whether or not you’ll bump into John Cusack on the way home. I’m wearing special Marks and Sparks green pants, because if I buy white, black, pink or red, Big Bastard steals them off the washing line. Jules?’

  Julia sighed. ‘Well, okay.’ She reluctantly tugged them over the waistband of her trousers.