Please Don't Stop The Music (6 page)

We
both peeped around the living room door. ‘Bless him.’ Rosie’s face
curved into a fond smile. ‘Aren’t they lovely when they’re
asleep?’

‘
I’m
not sure “lovely” is a word I’d associate with Jason, but I guess
he has a certain charm.’

‘
I
meant Harry. But, yes, Jem, why don’t you have a go at dating
Jason? I think he’d be really good for you.’

‘
Rosie, do you actually like me
at all
?’

‘
He’s not that bad.’ Rosie dared another look through the
doorway. ‘He’s quite cute, you have to admit. All leggy, and he
does have a fantastic bum. And he’d take you out, you’d meet
people, rather than being stuck between here and the workshop with
your occasional forays into York, where you only seem to meet
freaks and loonies.’

‘
And
Saskia.’

‘
This is the sound of me resting my case.’ Rosie poured
herself a bowl of cornflakes, while I made us two cups of tea.
‘Unless – forgive me for this, Jem, but you aren’t into girls are
you?’

The
kettle carried on tipping while I stared at her and boiling water
puddled on the floor. ‘Just because I’d rather eat my own ears than
date Jason doesn’t make me gay, Rosie.’

‘
I
know. It’s just – well, I really don’t know much about you, Jem and
it’s times like this that I realise it. After all, you never talk
about yourself, do you? Before you came here I mean. All I know is
that you’re from somewhere down south. You don’t flirt, you don’t
date, you’re like some kind of woman of mystery type thing.
Assuming you’ve not been recruited by MI5 to spy on the comings and
goings of a deranged new mother and a bonkers artist – why the
secrecy?’

‘
It
isn’t secrecy.’

‘
Really? When we first met we were just sort
of drinking mates so I never really asked questions, and then when
I found out Harry was on the way I guess I needed a friend, what
with my family being so far away and all my other friends still
thinking E’s and vodka make a great night out. Particularly when I
couldn’t even
think
about vodka without throwing up. Asking about your background
wasn’t really on my list of things to do, not when I had a
waistline the size of Montana and a memory like … what do they call
those things that have holes in?’

‘
Honestly, Rosie, there’s no secrets.’ I bent down to retrieve
a dropped spoon, taking care to hide my expression behind my hair.
‘I’ve led a very boring life and I came to York to start selling my
belt buckles and jewellery in a city where I thought there’d be
more opportunities. That’s all.’

Rosie gave me a long look. ‘I’ve known you for, what,
eighteen months now? And you’ve always been a good friend, always
stood by me. And, after last night, I owe you one. But you can’t
blame me for being curious, Jem. I’m sorry if you think I’m
prying.’

I
gave her a quick hug. ‘Nah. I’m just hiding my ordinariness and
mundanity by being inscrutable, that’s all.’

From
the next room came the sound of an enormous fart and Jason saying,
‘Whoah, sorry mate. Forgot you was there, like,’ and Harry
gurgling.

Rosie began spooning up her cereal. ‘I take back everything.
I wouldn’t want you going out with that. Unless you had your own
wind-turbine, then he’d save you a fortune.’

‘
It’s got to be his looks they go for. Surely. It’s not his
urbane manner, that’s for certain.’

Jason came into the kitchen with Harry tucked in front of
him. Harry was beaming as though he’d seen the funniest thing ever.
‘Two blokes in need of breakfast coming through.’

‘
Do
you always fart like that first thing in the morning?’ Rosie pushed
the muesli packet towards Jason and began to unbutton her
blouse.

He
winked. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know darling.’

Rosie and I did a joint grimace. ‘Er, no.’

‘
Anyway, ladies, I better run, catch meself some shut-eye
before today kicks off. If you’ve not got any bacon?’

‘
No,
sorry.’ And Rosie raised herself on tiptoe and gave Jason a kiss on
the cheek. ‘Thanks for last night, Jason.’

Jason turned his head slowly and gave her a lip-smacking snog
which went on until Harry, deprived of his promised feed, squawked.
‘Don’t mention it, babe.’ And with a leer that was probably visible
from Lancashire, he let himself out of the cottage.

Rosie was even pinker. ‘Bloody hell,’ she
said. ‘Sorry, Harry but,
bloody
hell
!’ She breathed out until her fringe
rose several inches. ‘I think I just found out how he gets all
those girls.’ She sat down on one of the little stools and clasped
Harry to her chest.

‘
Good was it?’

She
blew again. ‘Phew. Put it this way, if I didn’t feel like I could
launch jumbo-jets out of my lower regions, I’d give him a go.’ She
looked down at Harry’s busily sucking face. ‘If he’d promise not to
speak.’

‘
Or
fart.’

She
patted Harry’s bottom. ‘So. Are you down at the workshop today or
what?’

‘
Thought I’d go back into town. Have another crack at Saskia
maybe.’

‘
Or
…’ Rosie peeped at me from under her hair. ‘Have another crack at
the bloke you left your stuff with.’

‘
He sent me another e-mail last night asking
me to pick up the money I made from the belt buckle. So if I
do
see him, it’ll be
strictly business.’

Rosie made a face. ‘You should invite him over. We could all
have dinner – I’d cook and everything. Go on, Jem, it’d be nice for
me to meet someone new.’

‘
We
don’t really have that kind of relationship. He’s a bit, I dunno,
sharp. Edgy. Not dinner-party material certainly.’

‘
Doesn’t matter. Ask him anyway. I could do my Mexican bean
thing and Jase could come over and we’d be like two couples eating
dinner like real people, not like big fat blobbery things that
never go anywhere and have to have the TV on for
company.’

I
was about to laugh when I saw the shiny glimmer of tears in her
eyes. ‘I’ll ask him. But don’t hold your breath.’ I stood up.
‘Better get on. You know what Saskia always says about the early
bird –’

‘
Yeah, it gets eaten by the even earlier cat.’

‘
Quite.’

* *
*

It
felt strange to be heading into town without Harry but it was a
damn sight faster. I found myself standing outside Le Petit Lapin
just as Saskia’s assistant Mairi was putting the blinds up and
unlocking the front door.

‘
Is
Saskia in yet?’ I asked.

Mairi paused to consider the question. She was a stunningly
lovely girl, slim as a young tree and with hair so unreasonably
shiny that I was convinced it was nylon. What she wasn’t, however,
was particularly bright.

‘
Well, she was going over to the Harrogate shop first thing,’
was her final and very considered answer. ‘But I heard someone
moving about in the back.’

‘
Could be ghosts.’ I squinted through the trendily dark
windows to see whether Saskia still had any of my pieces on
display.

‘
You
think so? You hear so many stories, don’t you, about these old
buildings? Across the road there, they swear they’ve got plague
victims buried in the garden.’ Mairi followed me up the step and
into the shop. ‘I don’t know what I’d do if I saw a ghost. What
would you do, Jemima?’

‘
I’d
probably try to sell it something,’ I muttered, looking around the
new improved interior of Le Petit Lapin. Saskia had swept away the
hanging displays and the little cluttered corners which had been
ideal for browsing. Instead a few choice examples of what I
supposed must be native art stood in the centre of the floor
reflected in long mirrors. I stared and wondered which long-term
institution the manufacturers were natives of.

‘
Gorgeous, isn’t it?’ Saskia swept into view. The mirrors
reflected her too; it was like being surrounded by Lucrezia Borgia.
‘It’s called “Femininity”.’

I
looked closer at the largest item. ‘It’s a twig.’

Saskia flipped her hair. ‘That remark just shows how little
you understand about Art, Jemima. That is a central representation
of the essential core of womanhood. It’s American.’

‘
Right.’ I stared a bit longer. ‘Americans must be very
different, if that’s their essential core. Looks like a bit of old
firewood. Are they flammable generally, Americans?’

Saskia turned her back and began fussing with a small glass
case containing what looked like a phial of urine. ‘Did you want
something Jemima? Mairi darling, put the machine on would you, I’m
absolutely dying for an espresso.’

I
made the sign of the cross behind her back but she didn’t crumble
to dust as I was hoping. ‘I was just wondering if you’d thought any
more about carrying on selling my jewellery.’ Even I could hear the
note of desperation. ‘You must be able to find somewhere to put it.
Now you’ve got all this space. Or, you could stock it over in
Harrogate, I wouldn’t mind travelling over there with stuff, if you
wanted.’

‘
Jemima.’ Saskia looked up at the ceiling. ‘Take a teeny tiny
peek around you. What do you see?’

‘
Space. Loads of it.’

‘
And?’

‘
And
a twig.’

Saskia spun around. ‘Shall I tell you what
you can see, Jemima? Shall I? Class, that is what it is. Class,
exclusivity, rare items available only to the discerning purchaser.
Now while I admit that your pieces are lovely, they are a little –
oh how to put this to cause the least offence? – they are a
little
obvious
.
Darling.’ she added as though the endearment would make me less
likely to want to kill her. ‘Mairi, do we still have any of those
invitations to our official re-opening?’

Mairi tippytoed forwards on her immaculate little feet.
‘There’s still a pile here,’ she pointed out helpfully. ‘And over
here.’

‘
Right.’ Saskia pulled a leaflet forward.
‘Look, Jemima.
This
is my stock.
This
is the clientele I am aiming at.’ The brochure
contained photographs of Saskia herself, often holding various odd
items. In many she was standing next to people who had the sharp
edges and branded hairstyle of the upper class. Everyone wore
plastic cocaine smiles and showed too many teeth. ‘But do come to
the opening, darling.’

I
stared at the shiny oblong. ‘When is it?’ I asked dully.

A
perfect nail tapped. ‘Next week. You never know you might make some
contacts there. I am inviting all sorts of people, even the kind
that might buy your things. Chavs with money, you know.’

Even
though I knew this had been a futile errand I still felt slightly
sick. ‘Who’s the celebrity you’ve got to do the honours then?’ I
asked, reading the gothic typescript.

Saskia looked uncharacteristically shifty. ‘I’ve a few names
up my sleeve,’ she said, turning to reposition her centrepiece in a
way to make it look less like something swept in on a breeze.
‘Contacts, darling. That’s what it’s all about. Take some
invitations. Bring all your friends.’ She smirked. I was hardly
known for my huge social circle. ‘There will be nibbles but if I
were you I’d eat first.’

Mairi and I exchanged a look. She had my pity, at least I
could walk away. ‘Thank you,’ I said trying to be graceful in
defeat. ‘I shall look forward to it.’

‘
Hmmm. Now, Mairi, I wonder if you’d mind getting up onto the
balcony with a duster …’

I
left them to it. Shoved the almost frictionless glossy invites into
my back pocket and decided to go round to Ben’s shop. He’d got some
money for me and the way things were going he was my last, best
hope. I had my website but that was never going to make me my
fortune. I usually sold my smaller pieces that way; they were
cheaper to post, easier to pack and a little bit more wearable than
the big statement items I placed in shops … the shop.

Which surprised me by having two of my buckles in the window.
One was attached to an enormous black leather belt draped over a
dayglo-green guitar. It looked surprisingly sexy and also a little
bit like an offensive weapon. The other buckle was attached to Ben,
who was stacking amps to one side to make room for a cardboard
cut-out figure I didn’t recognise.

I
waved at him. After a second he waved back. Apart from the buckle,
today he was wearing a black T shirt and a grungy pair of black
jeans with a ripped pocket and his hair was tied back into a
ponytail. He was stubbled and his eyes looked fantastic in the
middle of all that dark hair, although they had bags under them you
could have lost a granny in.

‘
Thought I’d pop in. You know, see how things were.’ I stood
in the doorway slightly awkwardly, wishing he’d invite me inside.
With the way he was carrying on working and avoiding my eye, I was
beginning to feel a bit stalkerish.