by Carmen Reid
As they wandered from stall to stall, looking at the offerings and flirting with the stallholders, Gracie peppered their chat with Parker questions.
‘He still hasn’t left any kind of message yet. Do you think he will?’
‘Do you think he really wanted me to come to this art show on Saturday, remember, or do you think he just said it but didn’t really mean it?’
‘I think he must have changed his mind. What d’you think?’
‘I don’t know, Gracie!’ Lana said with a touch of exasperation, as she picked up a beaded necklace and examined it carefully.
‘Oh yes, that would so suit you,’ the stallholder, a young guy not much older than them, insisted. ‘Look up at me, Miss? Yes, blue eyes, you have beautiful blue eyes. This is the necklace for you. It’s antique, you know, turquoise and genuine silver. Navaho.’
‘Thanks,’ Lana said, smiling at him, ‘I’m kinda looking around, I might come back …’
‘It’ll be gone and you’re gonna regret it. It’s a special necklace, very lucky.’
‘Thanks.’ She waved and backed away from the stall before he could talk her into it.
Gracie linked arms with Lana: ‘You know it’s just friends, it’s just about making a new friend. It’s really not anything else.’
‘What is?’
‘Me and Parker, of course. But it’s just amazing to make a new friend, isn’t it? I’d forgotten how exciting the whole thing is, like a crush,’ Gracie gushed, ‘but in a small way, of course.’
‘Are you going to stop?’ Lana asked, slightly shocked at how abrupt this sounded.
‘Huh?’ Gracie asked, letting her arm fall from Lana’s.
‘Well, you just have to stop now. You already have a boyfriend. A really nice, really sweet boyfriend called Bingham. Have you forgotten? Parker is just this guy,’ then with barely checked irritation, Lana added: ‘All Parker said to you was: there’s an art show next Saturday, see you there, maybe? No. Big. Deal.’
‘What’s got into you?’ Gracie demanded, all hurt now.
‘Well, you’re just acting like he’s the most important thing in the world – and he’s not. He’s so totally not. The most important thing in the world right now is that we’ve spent $4,000 of our own money making new dresses and we have to make sure they fly off the rails. That’s the only thing we ought to be thinking about. Not some dumb guy who might or might not ask us out.’
‘Us?’
Gracie wheeled round to stare at Lana; there was no ignoring the iciness in her voice.
‘Has Parker asked you out?’
Lana didn’t say anything, but she could feel a tell-tale blush radiating across her face.
‘You better tell me, Lana,’ Gracie went on, ‘otherwise I’m going to call him right now, right this second, and find out.’
‘He asked me out. I’m meeting Parker tonight,’ Lana blurted out.
Gracie’s expression went from angry to stunned in a heartbeat. Now Lana could feel blood pounding in her cheeks and in her ears. Did she really just say that out loud? Had she just told Gracie? Even though, deep down, she knew how Gracie was going to feel.
‘What?!’ Gracie asked, her voice squeaky with astonishment.
‘He asked me out yesterday,’ Lana began, ‘and I said yes because you have a boyfriend and I don’t. I thought it would be OK.’
‘I can’t believe you!’ Gracie exclaimed. ‘I met him first. I introduced him to you. You’ve never said you liked him like that. I can’t believe you …’
Gracie’s face was creasing: it was clear that she was on the verge of tears.
‘Well, I’m sorry—’ Lana began.
‘You’re sorry?! Oh please, don’t even bother pretending to apologize. How can you say you’re sorry? All I’ve been saying for days is how much I liked him and you …’ Gracie paused, her voice all tight and choked, ‘you never said a single word.’
‘Gracie, I didn’t mean … I didn’t know … not really,’ Lana tried.
‘You didn’t mean what? You didn’t mean to snatch Parker from right under my nose? Oh and I suppose you didn’t mean to exactly copy my bangs? You didn’t mean to start dressing in exactly the same way as me? What are you doing? Are you trying to be me?! Are you some weird stalker person who is planning to take over my entire life?’
‘Gracie!’ Lana exclaimed, but she felt properly stung now, ‘I didn’t … I haven’t …’
‘Yes you have!’ Gracie chipped in. ‘You’ve done all of those things. You’ve totally copied me and now you are stealing the guy who is supposed to be mine.’
Her voice was loud and passers-by were stopping to stare.
‘Please be quiet,’ Lana asked.
‘I hope you have a lovely evening. I hope you have a truly wonderful time and make a brand new best friend, because you’re going to need one!’ Gracie exclaimed. Then she turned on her heel and began to walk away quickly.
Lana just stood there, feeling her cheeks burn. This was horrible and she felt awful.
She had copied Gracie’s bangs – and she had bought vintage dresses and little bags and pinned brooches to her lapels all in the Gracie style … and now she was going on a date with the guy Gracie liked best of all. Gracie hadn’t needed to say it, Lana had guessed. Lana should have known it was the wrong thing to do.
In fact, it was a horrible thing to do.
‘Ooooh, you should have bought the lucky necklace,’ the stallholder with the turquoise jewellery told her.
The humiliation brought tears to Lana’s eyes. She trudged out of the market and back to her apartment, her mobile phone clutched tightly in her hand.
She was a tiny speck of person alone and lonely in New York. There was only one person she wanted to call. But she didn’t know if she could. How did she get over the awkward beginning and have a proper conversation with her mum?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Austria
Ed on the line:
Denim shirt (used to be Owen’s)
Pink woolly tank-top (no idea)
Baggy beige chinos (John Lewis sale)
Old squash shoes (school lost property sale)
Total est. cost: £25
‘PANTS,’ ANNIE REPEATED to herself.
She was still stuck in the woods with the empty Bentley and the sleeping tigress. The surfer was still missing in action.
‘And now what?’ she asked herself. ‘If you think you’re so clever, girl, just how are we supposed to get out of this?’
She took her mobile out of her handbag, saw that the battery was already two-thirds spent and wondered who she could phone. Maybe she should try and get through to the British AA? Maybe they had a European branch, which would bring petrol to Bentley-driving damsels in distress.
Before she could make a decision, the phone in her hand sprang to life and seeing at once whose number it was, she burst into a very welcome hello to her husband, Ed.
‘Oh darlin’, how nice to hear from you. I can’t tell you how good it is to get a phone call. Oh babes, I’m in such a fix, it’s lovely to hear from you. How are you? What is happening at home?’
‘We’re fine, Annie. All quiet on the home front,’ Ed told her. ‘What do you mean you’re in a fix? What’s happened now?’
‘Oh, you know, nothing much,’ she replied, not really wanting to worry him.
‘Well what? Why don’t you just tell me? Is it serious? Or just the imaginings of a dessert-starved dieter?’
‘Oh sweetheart, I am stuck in a wood in Austria with a clapped-out Bentley and a sleeping millionairess, waiting for the return of an escaped surfer.’
‘What?!’
Annie decided it was safe enough to give her husband, thousands of miles away, a quick summary of the situation.
‘WHAT?!’ Ed repeated when Annie reached the end of the update.
‘That’s my story so far,’ she added, ‘so now it’s your turn.’
‘But what are you going to do?’ Ed asked.
<
br /> ‘Don’t worry about me … something will turn up.’
‘But I do worry about you. I constantly worry about you. Now I’m going to worry about you all night long. You need the police. You need to dial 999 or whatever it is in Austria and get help.’
‘Probably. That’s probably what any normal person would do. I don’t know, my love, the police, the lawyers, they’re all on the case somewhere. We’re just out on a limb, on a detour … but we’re safe.’
‘Are you? Are you sure?’ Ed sounded a little frantic.
‘I am sure we are safe. We can always lock ourselves into the Bentley until the morning …’
‘Annie!’
‘Svetlana wants to get the boys back herself. I think it’s something about standing up to Igor on her own. I think she wants to show him she’s a totally worthy opponent. That he can’t crush her.’
‘Annie, you need to get help. Are you sure you shouldn’t phone the police?’
‘Look, babes, if the surfer hasn’t come back in an hour, I promise, I promise you that’s what we’ll do.’
‘OK …’
There was a hint of relief in Ed’s voice.
‘Have you heard from Lana?’ she asked.
‘No. Have you?’
‘No.’
Annie took in the dark woodland around her and the little road, empty apart from the Bentley.
‘I miss Lana,’ Annie admitted, ‘it’s like a bad break-up. I feel sad and I keep hearing songs that remind me of her. I want to sit in her bedroom and sniff things, hoping to get a little whiff of her.’
‘Just give her a phone,’ Ed suggested.
‘Svetlana said she would run back to me.’
Ed snorted. ‘And since when has Svetlana been an expert on teenage behaviour?’
‘She won’t be our teenager soon,’ Annie said, feeling almost choked at the thought. ‘She’ll turn twenty and then she’ll be fully grown up. I have to go,’ she remembered: ‘save my battery for phoning the police if I need to.’
‘Right. You take care, let me know what’s happening. I love you and I’m going to worry about you.’
‘Love you too.’
Reluctantly, Annie clicked off the call and put the phone back into her handbag. Right. It was time. Time to go back to the Bentley, wake up Svetlana, endure the Ukrainian tantrum and try to decide what to do next.
But just as she reached the car she heard footsteps behind her and a jaunty whistling. She turned to look and the sight of Randall strolling along with a huge plastic container bumping against his legs made her grin with relief, with happiness … with all sorts of slightly over the top feelings. She was just so pleased to see him.
‘You came back!’ she called out to him.
‘Of course! Were you thinking I was going to run out on you? Why did you not trust in the cosmic forces?’
‘Oh good grief. What’s the difference between a cosmic and a karmic force, by the way?’ she asked, heading towards him, intending to help him get the container to the car.
‘No, I’ve got it,’ he insisted, ‘and I can’t answer your question … well, not in one sentence. Not even in one evening.’
‘Never mind. Has this got petrol in it?’
‘What do you think?’ he smiled: ‘That I’ve walked back with a water urn so we can have a long drink?’
The muscles under his smooth brown skin flexed as he manoeuvred the container towards the car. Now that Annie was standing beside him, he towered above her, well over six foot tall.
‘I’ll bet you missed me?’ he asked playfully.
‘It’s been very quiet without you,’ she admitted. ‘Svetlana is still asleep: thank goodness.’
‘Well, my fellow traveller, I have good news for you and I have bad news.’
‘I’m not sure I want to hear any more bad news at the moment,’ Annie replied, which was putting it mildly.
Randall went to the Bentley and unscrewed the petrol cap. He began to pour in petrol a little too messily for Annie’s liking, as splashes kept escaping and sliding down the side of the car.
‘OK, the good news: we’re just a mile or so from a good road with a big service station,’ he told her. ‘So once I’ve put this in we can drive down there and fill up properly. From there, the motorway is only like seven kilometres away – that’s not far, is it?’
‘Four miles or so,’ Annie said.
‘And then you’re only 15 kilometres from Vienna.’
‘We’re 15 kilometres from Vienna? Is that all?’ Annie could hardly believe it. ‘But we’ve not seen a single town.’
‘We’ve come in on a strange route.’
‘You were the map reader,’ she reminded him.
‘European maps,’ Randall said, as if that explained it, ‘I’m obviously not used to them. But have faith. This was the path we were meant to take. The reason for the detour may not be obvious now, but its meaning will be revealed in time.’
‘You might have to stop with that, before I smack you.’
He had emptied the container and now turned to her with a smile: one of his cool, make that super-chilled, saintly, surfer smiles.
It was impossible not to smile back.
‘OK, so what’s the bad news?’ Annie asked. ‘And am I going to be able to cope with it?’
‘I’m not going to Vienna with you. I’m going to the other side of the motorway to hitch a lift to Spain. I met a fellow traveller at the service station and he’s waiting for me. Spain is where the world-class breakers can be found.’
Annie gave a little ‘oh’ and suddenly found herself in a bear hug, her face squashed against the kind of taut muscular chest she associated with perfume ads.
‘We feel close right now, don’t we?’ Randall said, which was sort of stating the obvious.
She could feel his massive chest vibrating as he said the words. His arms were holding her tightly and his heart was beating just beside her ear.
She nodded.
‘That’s being on the road. People meet and share their stories and suddenly they’re best friends in a day. Or closer …’
Annie breathed in his salty, sweaty smell and let her arms hug him back, feeling solid muscle beneath her touch.
Whoa …
She had to pull right back here. She might have been through a lot of stress lately, but there was no need to do anything crazy. His handsome face hovered for a moment a little too closely over hers.
‘Thanks, Randall,’ she said with forced cheeriness, pulling her face safely out of his way, ‘thanks for getting the petrol. That was very kind.’
She let her arms drop from his sides, so he let go too, then she turned quickly away. As she did, he landed a cheeky slap on her bum.
‘Randall!’ she said in her best bossy mum voice.
‘I’d have kissed you, just to be nice,’ he said, shooting her another lazy grin.
‘Well, that’s … um …’ Annie realized she was blushing and feeling properly flustered: ‘nice to know.’
The Bentley’s passenger door flew open and a loud, unmistakable voice exclaimed: ‘Annah? Where are we? This is not Vienna!’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
New York
Lana ready to go:
Skinny logoed sweater (Markus Lupfer, via The Outnet)
Denim pencil skirt (Banana Republic)
Black footless tights (Gap)
The blue polka-dot shoes (Chie Mihara, but on sale)
Total est. cost: $220
LANA CHECKED HERSELF over carefully in the bathroom mirror as she applied a final dab of lip gloss. She was almost satisfied. The dark eye make-up was edgy enough and although she’d fiddled with her hair for ages, it didn’t look too done and it hadn’t gone crazy with static.
She looked good. Face and hair: gold star. Outfit: could do better. But she’d already ransacked her wardrobe, tried on five different outfits and she’d decided this was the best she could do. So there was no point torturing herself about it.
So she was going to chill about the top and the skirt she was wearing. They weren’t the most rocking combination in the known universe, but they’d do. She was going to chill right out … and wear the polka-dot shoes again – because she couldn’t help thinking of them as her lucky shoes.
She was going on this date. She’d made that decision as she’d walked home, blazing with anger about the row with Gracie. Yes, Gracie had met Parker first. But they were supposed to be just friends. Had Parker done anything to suggest otherwise? Lana pushed earrings into the tiny holes in her lobes and glared at the mirror with defiance.
A buzz on the apartment’s intercom made her jump. The buzzer never rang, except occasionally in the morning when the mailman was making a delivery. Mailman, she checked herself with a smile. How could she be calling the postman the mailman? She couldn’t do that if she was to milk the whole Londoner-abroad image.
She picked up the intercom handset with a brisk ‘Hello.’
‘Delivery,’ came the abrupt reply.
‘OK, come on up, 14th floor.’
She hit the unlock button.
Lana was glad that Elena wasn’t at home this evening. Elena would of course ask why she was taking so much trouble with her look. Elena would want to know everything about her date and Elena would totally guess that Parker was the cause of all the effort.
Truthfully, Lana couldn’t resist meeting Parker. She couldn’t help wanting to know what he thought. Did he really like her? Could they get together? Could she ever be super-cool Parker’s girlfriend? She would just die of regret if she didn’t at least try to find out.
She heard footsteps heading down the hallway towards the apartment door, so she slid out the bolt and opened the door a little. This was New York City, you were supposed to be ultra-careful.
She peeked out, expecting someone weighed down with a parcel and a clipboard, but was astonished, not to mention nervous, to see Gracie striding down the hallway towards her.
Lana would have slammed shut the door and slid the bolt back into place before she could listen to another angry word, but Gracie had already seen her.