by Jenny Colgan
Ellie didn’t say anything, because she knew what she could say that would be helpful: absolutely nothing. Craig continued to stare out of the window.
‘Wouldn’t recommend working your way out of it,’ he went on. ‘Doesn’t work, not in the long run, the old “desk cure”.’
He nodded to himself.
‘A little bit of travelling, mind you – probably couldn’t hurt.’
‘Prob’ly not.’
He nodded again.
‘Hmm. No, I don’t think it could hurt at all.’
He handed her the cheque, patted her once on the shoulder, shrugged on his overcoat and stepped out into the already darkening evening.
Ellie couldn’t sit down once she got home and it was driving Big Bastard crazy.
‘What the fuck’s the matter with you? Have you got piles?’
‘I know, Big Bastard, that it is very difficult to think of anything other than piles in your delicate condition but actually no. Something wonderful has happened, and I’m excited, thank you.’
‘What’s that then – don’t tell me. The European Union has announced that all women on the blob get a week off work.’
Big Bastard had strong and regularly expressed views on the European Union.
‘No. But did you hear they’re going to make all the rugby balls square to fit in with common agricultural policy and stacking regulations?’
His beefy face went puce. ‘Those bastards. We’ll show them. Two world wars and one World Cup.’
Julia came rushing up to the door with Arthur in tow.
‘What’s your news??’ she asked, pulling off her coat.
‘I’m here under duress,’ said Arthur. ‘Do you know, I spent six hours on your call waiting.’
‘Tough. Okay, here’s my news …’ said Ellie, mixing Cosmopolitans with one hand.
Julia’s face fell. Ellie stopped stirring.
‘… or we could have yours first …’
Julia beamed, sat down and composed herself on the sofa.
‘Do you want a Cosmopolitan, Big Bastard?’ said Ellie, pouring the mixture into tall glasses.
‘What, poof juice? Sorry Arthur mate, no offence.’
‘None taken, duckie. All the more for us.’
‘I didn’t say I didn’t want one.’
‘Here you go then. One glass of Fairy Fruit cocktail.’
Big Bastard grimaced and gulped it back.
‘Okay. Final scene,’ said Julia. ‘Pretty in Pink. Well, near enough final scene.’
‘Do you know,’ said Ellie, ‘I think that dress really was hideous. Even then. Do you remember? It was actively unpleasant. Really unflattering. And pink with red hair. I still don’t think that’s right.’
‘I agree,’ said Arthur. ‘Even by the standards of the day. And the standards of the day were vomitous.’
‘Shut up a second, okay? Just cast your minds back.’
‘Okay.’
‘What does Andrew say to Molly right at the end?’
Ellie squinted, trying to remember.
‘Does he say “I’m really not sure that pink dress goes with your red hair”?’ hazarded Arthur.
‘No! He says, “I believed in you – I just didn’t believe in myself.”’
‘Jules, that’s the cheesiest line of all time.’
‘No, you don’t see. I think … that’s exactly what I need to do. Or at least, find out if I do.’
‘What?’ Ellie leaned forward.
‘About Loxy, stupid. I mean, I know he’s fine. He’s great. It’s me that’s the problem. So …’
‘Uh huh?’
‘So, you know. Going to find Andrew McCarthy. I’m with you, all the way. I want to know what the hell he meant by that. I want to know if he did find love, just by being,’ she coloured, ‘the loveliest man in the world. And I’m going to find out if I – ahem – believe in myself enough to go through with it and, well, maybe get married, maybe not.’
‘Oh my God! That’s brill!’ said Ellie.
‘Don’t! Don’t congratulate me. I’ve had enough of people congratulating me. Everyone seems to assume that no-one else could possibly want me and just because I’ve been asked I’m automatically going to say yes, like some dried up old tart. Which I’m not,’ she added, when it became clear that nobody else was going to.
‘You getting married Jules?’ said Big Bastard. ‘Congratulations. That Loxy’s not bad for one of our … foreign brothers.’
The others swapped a characteristic look.
‘It’s alright,’ whispered Ellie, ‘I save my toenail clippings and leave them in his sock drawer.’
‘I heard that,’ said Big Bastard.
‘So Loxy’s not coming?’ asked Arthur.
Julia shook her head. ‘Loxy isn’t even answering the phone at the moment,’ she said shamefacedly. ‘I think this is a trip I have to make myself.’ She stared into the middle distance. ‘God, Hedge, what’s your news?’
‘You’ll never guess,’ said Ellie.
‘You’re up the duff,’ said Big Bastard. ‘Neh. Who’d do you?’
Ellie turned round.
‘Excuse me, but precisely two weeks ago, you were desperate to “do” me.’
‘Yes, but I was fucking pissed, weren’t I? I’d drunk myself blind.’
‘I’ve left my job.’
‘You’ve what?’ screamed Julia, then saw Arthur’s face.
‘You knew about this?’
‘Hey, you were the one that was going to get married and not tell me.’
‘I hardly think …’
‘It’s okay! They’ve given me redundancy money,’ said Ellie.
‘And how long is that going to last? How could you do this, Hedgehog, with nothing to go to?’
‘I have everything to go to,’ said Ellie stubbornly. ‘California for starters.’
‘But what about after we get back? Are you going to blow it all on this trip?’
‘Things will be different after we get back. That’s the point of going away. Don’t you see? This is about radical change. This is about shaking things up. I have already officially begun shaking things up. So have you.’
Julia shrugged slightly. ‘Well, I suppose.’
‘… and anyway, Andrew will tell me what to do.’
‘No he won’t! All he knows about is acting. And perhaps a little bit about waitering.’
‘Well, you’re going to ask him whether you should get married.’
‘Girls, calm down.’
‘Well I was pleased for her,’ grumbled Ellie.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Julia. ‘I know you hated that job.’
‘I bloody did!’
‘You were very brave.’
‘I bloody was.’
‘It’s just … it was a good job, and have you ever liked a job?’
‘Yes! I loved being a majorette.’
‘Hedgehog, that wasn’t a job! That was meant to be fun!’
‘Oh. Well, it was. Bloody good fun. I thought it was kind of like being in the Territorial Army.’
‘No, it was for the girls who were too ungainly for ballet.’
She saw Ellie’s face,
‘… and had special gifts all of their own.’
‘Well, it’s too late anyway,’ said Ellie. ‘I’ve signed the paperwork. In two weeks’ time, I’ll be a free woman.’
‘Hang on!’ said Big Bastard. ‘Where the hell is my rent going to come from?’
‘Oh, I know someone who’s looking for a place to stay,’ said Arthur suddenly. ‘Just for a bit, maybe while the Hedgehog’s away.’
‘Who?’ said Ellie, instantly suspicious.
‘He’s living with his parents,’ went on Arthur, ‘and he just needs a little bit of space.’
‘No!’ said Ellie. ‘I absolutely forbid it.’
‘Can he pay?’ said Big Bastard.
‘Oh yes, no problem. He’s in telecommunications.’
‘He fixes telephone kiosks!’ said
Ellie. ‘No no absolutely not. Big Bastard, I don’t think you want to live with Colin. You’re really prejudiced and he’s really gay. It would be like a terrible premise for a sitcom.’
‘But he can pay your rent,’ said Big Bastard thoughtfully.
‘What is your rent?’ asked Arthur. Ellie told him a figure almost double what she was currently paying.
‘He can give me the cheque and I’ll carry on paying Big Bastard.’
Big Bastard screwed up his face and tried to do the sums.
‘I guess that sounds okay,’ he said finally.
‘Great!’ said Arthur. ‘Now I get to have sex on weekdays.’
‘It would almost be worth not going to see this,’ said Ellie. ‘I might set up a video camera.’
‘We’ve got one,’ said Arthur.
The next two weeks passed so quickly they were packing before they knew it. Or almost; on the day before departure, Julia’s immaculately packed bag was sitting neatly in her flat. Ellie was throwing her possessions at random into a rucksack.
‘Torch!’
‘Check! No, hang on Hedge, why the hell do we need a torch?’
‘Haven’t you seen The Goonies? Dry matches!’
‘Check.’
‘Now have you got this?’ said Arthur. He was watching them get ready. In the end, because Arthur’s work for the next season started directly after the Spring collections in October, he’d only been able to get two weeks, so they’d decided that Ellie and Julia would spend some time in Los Angeles tracking down the Brat Packers, then pick up Arthur and his cowboy hat for a couple of weeks bumming around San Francisco. Loxy had the fourth ticket, but no-one was talking about this to Julia, even as it became more and more obvious that he wasn’t coming.
‘You get in a taxi at LAX. You tell the driver the address of the hotel. This address, here. Go find your wee man from the 1980s. Then three days later you pick up the hire car. Drive drive drive along this line here.’
‘Like the roadrunner cartoons,’ said Ellie.
‘With less fatal results if possible. And you are picking me up in San Francisco, here, the following day. After that you’ll be in capable hands.’
‘Very capable,’ said Colin.
‘And you,’ said Ellie, ‘are moving in your own bed linen. Do I make myself clear?’
Siobhan let out a dramatic sigh.
‘And don’t forget: you’re sending the anonymous death threats from every small town you stop at.’
‘Oh for God’s sake, Shiv. Why don’t you just beg a week off and come out with us? It’ll be just what you need,’ said Julia.
‘And you could take the ticket from Lo—’ Arthur grabbed Ellie from behind and clapped his hand over her mouth.
‘What a fantastic travelling companion I would be,’ said Siobhan. ‘Nope. Sorry. I’m going to stay here and plot my deadly revenge.’
‘But think of all those gorgeous tall white-teethed corn-fed American men! I don’t know how you can afford to pass this up!’ argued Ellie. ‘Look, if you like we could take a detour to Alaska. There’s forty men for every woman up there.’
‘I insist we take that detour,’ said Arthur.
‘Or we could go to Seattle – bag yourself a dot.com billionaire.’
‘So it’s between a woodcutter and a nerd? Or of course one of the 45% who are clinically obese. Plus the subset of bastards, which is all of them.’
‘Hawaii?’ asked Ellie.
‘Hedge, you do know America is bigger than Britain don’t you?’ asked Julia a tad worriedly.
‘Yeah, but not much bigger, surely. Anyway, once we’ve found Andrew McCarthy we’ll have plenty of time to pootle around. He’ll probably insist his chauffeur takes us anyway. Ooh – I wonder if he’s got a helicopter?’
Arthur and Julia exchanged a look.
Loxy knocked and entered the flat warily. He and Julia were tentatively on speaking terms. Julia had attempted to explain her decision to go and try and ascertain her true feelings. Loxy suspected that this was just a long-winded way of dumping him and going on holiday at the same time. When she got back she’d probably change her telephone number and walk past him on the street.
Everyone greeted him with a bit too much enthusiasm. He walked up to Julia.
‘So, Lox,’ said Siobhan, falsely. ‘Aren’t you going to take advantage of Patrick’s largesse then?’
Loxy shrugged and stared at the floor. Julia tried to take his hand. He let her, but just let his hand hang there, to show he wasn’t enjoying it.
‘Thought I’d better come and … say goodbye,’ he said gruffly.
‘We’re not going until tomorrow.’
He shrugged.
Julia looked around. The others quickly took the hint and disappeared.
‘Darling,’ she said, touching his face. ‘I think this will be good for us, you know. A little bit of time apart so I can think about it.’
‘Yeah, right,’ he said. ‘And have sex with cowboys.’
‘I’m not planning on having any sex with cowboys!’ said Julia, shocked.
‘No, that’s me,’ whispered Arthur from their vantage point hidden behind the kitchen door.
‘Well, go find yourself or whatever it is you’re so desperate to do so you don’t have to spend any time with me.’
‘For God’s sake, Loxy! Can’t you listen to me at all? Why does this all have to be about what you want?’
‘Yeah, right, that’s so selfish of me: to want us to be together.’
They weren’t holding hands any more; they were several feet apart, glaring at each other.
‘Well, I’m not going to marry someone just because they’re in a massive strop with me, okay?’
He stared at her for a long time, then made a sighing sound.
‘Have a good time,’ he said shortly, turning on his heel.
‘I bloody will!’ shouted Julia as he left the flat. Then she sat down and had a snivel. The others re-emerged immediately and put various arms about her.
‘Oh God! He’s being so weird about it! He thinks I want to chase other men!’
Ellie and Arthur raised their eyebrows at each other.
‘Really, he should be chasing me out to the airplane or something and then I’d know and change my mind and we’d all live happily ever after!’ She sniffed a little more.
‘That’s what Ferris Bueller would do,’ said Ellie, nodding in agreement.
‘Oh for fuck’s sake,’ said Siobhan. ‘You have not the slightest inkling of how fucking lucky you are. I’d have him.’
‘I wish I were going,’ said Ellie’s dad dreamily, switching on the grill.
‘I know. It’s going to be quite something.’
‘I was out there in ’68 with your mother, before she decided she preferred cavity wall insulation to us.’
Ellie’s dad had a very precise set of ideas about what her mother’s new life was like, based on absolutely no information whatsoever. Ellie flashed back a second to a picture of her father, sitting with his back to her when she got home from school with a note in his hand and a half-empty bottle of whisky by his elbow.
‘Dad?’
He had turned round then, looking heavy and crumpled.
‘What are you doing?’
‘It’s your mother,’ he had said. Horrified, she had watched him try not to cry. Her parents never cried. ‘She’s gone to Plockton. With an accountant called Archie.’
‘How long for?’ said Ellie.
‘Forever, I think, love,’ said her dad, swallowing painfully. ‘Come here then.’
And he put his arms around her, and, as Ellie realized what had happened, all she could do was stare into space, her eyes wide open.
This wasn’t the worst of it though. Mums and dads were splitting up all the time, everyone’s parents were at it. Mostly, though, they were fighting about custody and the kids were complaining about how often they had to go to the zoo at the weekends. From Plockton, however, emanated a deathly silence.<
br />
At first her father tried to make a joke of it. ‘It’s the post you see,’ he’d say. ‘Hasn’t quite reached Plockton. No electricity either. She’s trying to write by candle light.’
But as this became more and more obviously not true, he stopped mentioning it at all.
‘Are you sure,’ Ellie had asked timidly when she was about sixteen, ‘that she didn’t just die and you don’t want to tell me about it?’
Her father’s eyes had misted over. ‘Neh, she’s in Plockton with an accountant. Believe me, it’s a fate worse than death.’
‘Wow, what was it like?’ Ellie asked now.
‘It was great. We came into New York harbour by boat as dawn broke, right past the Statue of Liberty.’
‘God, that must have been amazing,’ said Ellie. ‘Kind of like the Titanic, but, um, afloat.’
‘Your mother got in a right strop with me because I wanted to send postcards and held her up.’
‘No, not much of a writer,’ said Ellie quietly.
‘And always in a hurry,’ said her dad. ‘Just like you.’
‘Oh, great,’ said Ellie crossly. ‘I’ll just nip down the clinic and get sterilized, shall I?’
‘Sorry Hedgehog.’ Her father put his arm around her and gave her a squeeze. ‘You’ll come back to me, won’t you?’
‘Of course I will, Dad.’
He hugged her briefly then moved away, both of them mildly embarrassed by the display of emotion.
‘… and anyway they served us the best breakfast I’ve ever had in my life. Did you know they put maple syrup on bacon?’
‘Bleagh.’ Ellie pottered about, her aim now to try and work out a way her father wouldn’t accidentally turn off the freezer and starve to death for the weeks she’d be away.
‘Okay. Here’s your list of instructions.’ She handed him a note in large type. He looked at it for a long time.
‘I’m not sure about the egg quota,’ he said finally.
‘It’s still a lot of eggs,’ said Ellie. ‘I just like to be here when you eat them, just in case.’
He shrugged. ‘And you better make sure to bring me back some duty-free.’
‘Sure – what do you want? An enormous bar of Toblerone, or a little bear with goggles on?’
He gave her a hug.