Looking for Andrew McCarthy (7 page)

A silence fell in the living room. They knew Siobhan well and, fussy about almost everything, she didn’t ever take kindly to people peering too deeply at her personal things. The Hedgehog had crossed over the line even by referring to the fact that Siobhan’s boyfriend had turned invisible.

Siobhan went very white.

‘What’s wrong with me and Patrick?’

Ellie gulped. ‘Well, you just never seem to see him.’

‘That’s because we’re both working hard. Everything’s
fine
.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Ellie grudgingly.

‘I agree with Arthur. You’re just making up problems for yourself – and for everyone else.’ Siobhan opened the door.

‘Maybe next year we should all just go to a restaurant for the Hedgehog’s birthday. Goodnight everyone.’

Ellie waited until the door had slammed shut. ‘Well, you’re not invited.’

‘Don’t you think you’re getting a bit obsessed by this Brat Pack thing?’ Julia said to Ellie gently.

‘No! It’s not like I’m still wearing the button badges.’

‘Hi Fidelity High!’ started playing on the stereo. Julia winced slightly.

‘If we were in California anyway,’ said Arthur carefully, ‘we could probably go to San Francisco, couldn’t we?’

‘What’s in San Frass-isco?’ said Colin.

‘Um … lots of trams,’ said Arthur.

‘Oh, that sounds
great
.’

‘Well, you’re not coming. Oh God, and I can’t really anyway. I’m saving up for an Eames chair.’

‘You’d rather have an Eames chair than a big adventure?’

‘Mmm,’ said Arthur. ‘Not sure.’

Arthur was a fabric sourcer for an avant-garde designer who made dresses out of industrial waste. He absolutely loved his job but it paid practically nothing.

‘Fine,’ said Ellie standing up. ‘You’re right. Let’s keep the status quo completely. Nobody move. Nobody change. See you all at my ninetieth birthday party. I’ll still be in the bathroom, because I won’t be able to get out of the bath of my own accord.’

‘Don’t be like this,’ said Julia. ‘We’ll think about it.’

‘No, you’re right. I should just give up, conform. Maybe if I had a new pair of expensive high heeled shoes my life would be entirely fine again.’

‘Come on,’ cajoled Julia pouring another glass of wine. ‘We could watch a video. Even
Mannequin
, if you like.’

‘Ah, no, I say no way,’ said Arthur. ‘In fact, that would probably be the least persuasive thing you could possibly do.’

‘Looks like you had a brilliant night,’ slurred Big Bastard, wandering in later half-cut. Ellie was hunched on the sofa, watching
Mannequin
by herself, the others having made it up until the entrance of Holly Wood, and wondering how many Pringles you could eat before you burst your own colon.

‘Shut up Big Bastard.’

‘Where are my KitKats then?’

‘A big mouse took them and ran away.’

‘Uh.’ He looked at her squinty-eyed.

‘What?’ said Ellie. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

He must have sensed her unhappiness, she thought. God, talk about taking your comfort where you could find it. She prepared to unburden herself to him.

‘You know, I feel like I’ve had a really tough time recently, and I don’t quite know why …’

‘I can’t believe we’ve lived in this flat for a year and never shagged,’ said Big Bastard thoughtfully.

Ellie’s mouth dropped open.

‘That’s because I’ve seen what you let go down the shower plughole,’ she said, furious that she had been expecting even an ounce of sympathy from this lout.

‘D’ya want to?’ he said, sitting down next to her and draping an enormous meaty arm over her shoulders.

‘Of course not!’ She shook him off. ‘And anyway, what about Carmel?’

‘Yes, she’s a bit skinny, but. Not like you.’

‘Oh I see. Excuse me while I go and scrub the toilet bowl with your toothbrush, you big moron.’

‘You’ll be back,’ he sneered. ‘Won’t be able to resist a bit of big beef loving.’

‘Why don’t we see how many things I’d rather do than that?’ yelled Ellie, heading for the bathroom.

‘Number one: cutting off my own fingers.

‘Number two: pooing my pants on the tube.

‘Number three: watching my dad have sex. With your dad.’

She took his toothbrush and ran it round the toilet rim.

‘Number four: moving to Afghanistan.

‘Number five: going camping with Anne Widdecombe.’

She dropped the toothbrush in the lavatory, and fished it out distastefully.

‘Number six: smuggling heroin through Thailand …’

‘You’ll be back,’ yelled Big Bastard. ‘You’re desperate for it.’

‘… up my chuff. Number seven: eating an old man’s dandruff.’

‘You love me really.’

‘Number eight: retaking my maths A-level.

‘Number nine: being sick and eating it.’

‘Oh, I’ve done that. It’s not too bad.’

‘Number ten: being eaten by a SHARK.’

‘Goodnight Hedgehog.’

‘Goodnight Big Bastard.’ She set his toothbrush back in the stand. ‘And hello amoebic dysentery,’ she whispered to herself. ‘And don’t think I’m going to be here to look after you, because I am going to be far, far away.’

The computers were down again at Julia’s office. It was Friday, so she certainly deserved to be kicking back, she thought, kicking back.

‘Aren’t you even thinking about it?’ she said to Arthur, toying with her phone card.

‘
God
yeah,’ said Arthur. ‘I’ve always wanted to go to San Francisco. I don’t feel my cowboy hat has had quite the adventures it deserves.’

‘Yeah, right. And also of course you’re the most boring monogamous man in the world.’

Arthur liked to think of himself as the dashing gay blade around town as opposed to someone who got endless crushes on people and treated them really, really nicely for ages. Especially Colin, who still lived with his parents.

‘I am not!’

‘How long have you been seeing the puppy now?’

‘Six months. But I don’t love him or anything. I’m footloose and fancy free. I’d be
very
fancy free in San Francisco. If I could afford it. But, you know, I’ve put the deposit on the Eames chair.’

Arthur lived in a minuscule studio filled with beautiful things he saved up for very, very slowly.

‘Yeah, right. Coward. I don’t really want to go. It’s an awful lot of holiday time for one of Ellie’s scheme-stroke-nightmare-o-ramas.’

‘Oh, come on. You’ve never been to LA. You must want to at least
see
it?’

‘A town entirely devoted to the worship of enormous plastic tits? Not especially. Anyway, it’s the most racist country in the world. Loxy probably wouldn’t make it past immigration.’

Loxy’s family was from Ghana.

‘Come without him. We could have a proper girly holiday.’

‘Hmm,’ said Julia. ‘Yeah, you and Hedgehog tart it about and I hold your coats. No thanks.’

‘How’s the Hedgehog? Still in gloom?’

‘She’s okay. I suggested she go travelling on her own and she said why didn’t I become new best friends with Caroline Snotface Lafayette.’

‘Hmm. Well, Siobhan phoned me again and said she would go if we were going for a proper holiday but
under no circumstances was she looking for anyone. Except Patrick of course.’

They both sighed.

‘I wouldn’t mind if it weren’t just such a fucking stupid idea,’ said Julia.

‘I know. George Clooney I could have understood.’

‘Ohp, hang on. I’ve got e-mail. I bet it’s from her.’

She clicked.

‘Yup, it is. Oh, and it’s a circular – you’re on the list too. You’d better look and check it out.’

The line went quiet as they read the mail.

From: e.eversholt@rooney&co.co.uk

To: Julia; Arthur; Siobhan

Re: Official ‘Let’s Go On a Wonderful Trip and Put the Joy
Back Into Our Lives,’ planning meeting to be held at Elms,
11am Sunday morning.

Dear Guys

Think about it: we’re the generation that created Live Aid and now we have to pay Tesco to deliver our marmalade. Get your leave of absence forms today. Can you fucking believe you even have to get a form to have any tiny bit of life whatsoever? One tiny pathetic little month in forty years of grind? Can you believe that someone is actually paid to design those forms? How depressed does that make you about modern
life? Remember: everybody wants to rule the world.

ISN’T FUN THE BEST THING TO HAVE?

See you there,
H.xx

For the last three years, Elms on a Sunday morning had been the traditional meeting place for pancakes and hungover gossip.

‘She’s HIJACKING us!’ said Julia.

‘At the moment, I could …’

‘Oh, hang on, I’ve got a call on the other line. Hi? Yes, we both have. Hang on. Arthur, it’s Siobhan. I’ll phone you back.’

‘You’re
call waiting
me? What, you like Siobhan more than me?’

‘Good
bye
Arthur.’

‘I can’t belie …’

‘She’s hijacking us!’ barked Siobhan. ‘If we all turn up, the next thing you know we’ll be on some terrible jumbo jet, then it’ll crash and they’ll have to identify us by our toes.’

‘I know. I know. We could go somewhere else, you know. We could all meet in the Mexican place next door and she could come and join us when she’s come to her senses.’

‘Tacos at eleven in the morning? That’s even grosser than leaving our jobs to spend a month looking for some sad out-of-work actor guy.’

‘I like Mexican food. It reminds me of baby food.’

‘Yeah, in that it’s already been filtered through somebody else.’

‘Oh God,’ said Julia. ‘She’ll get out of this, I’m sure. Something will come up to distract her.’

‘Can’t you wave something shiny in front of her?’

‘Maybe she should join S Club 7. They’re always up to shit like this. Did you mention it to Patrick?’

‘I left a note on the fridge. Same thing.’

‘Uh huh.’

‘Is Arthur going?’

‘He wants to go camping.’

‘Whereabouts? The Grand Canyon?’

‘Um, not that kind of camping.’

‘Oh. Well, good luck to him. If it’s the Hedgehog he’s going with I’m sure he’ll get to meet lots of big beefy policemen. Are you going to sort out Sunday?’

‘I suppose,’ said Julia, sighing. Siobhan hung up.

‘I only stayed on the line so I could hang up as soon as you came back on,’ said Arthur. ‘Bye.’

Julia came off the phone feeling rather disgruntled with her friends. Not, however, as disgruntled as Ellie was at that precise moment.

‘I will go,’ Ellie had told herself, ‘and very coolly inform bathead Rooney that I have plans and he’ll be fine.’

She scratched at her legs. She’d been reduced to pop socks. This isn’t school. Why did everything feel like school?

And now, here she was. Not making a lot of headway with the leave, but en route to getting herself a detention.

‘But …’

‘
I’m
talking, Ms Eversholt. And of
course
there’s no question of you taking a month off; that’s our budget month.’

‘But I’ll take it as leave,’ Ellie said sullenly.

‘Yes, well the only way you could take it as leave is if you worked Christmas days for the rest of your life.’

‘I’ll do that. I hate Christmas anyway. Me and my dad just get pissed and grumble at the TV, and I have to make brussels sprouts even though neither of us will eat them.’

‘Well I’m sorry about your frankly dismal-sounding holiday period, but that doesn’t mean I can just let you disappear for a month.’ Mr Rooney stood up, to indicate the end of their meeting.

Ellie stood her ground in silence.

‘Was that everything?’

‘Well, I don’t see why I shouldn’t be able to take it as unpaid …’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake. Which particular bit of “no, definitely not, no way, sorry and go away and
leave me alone,” didn’t you understand?’

‘Hypothetically speaking,’ said Ellie, ‘what would happen if someone sorted out cover for all their work and left on unpaid leave for a month?’

‘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.’