It Had to Be You (8 page)

‘Uh-oh, look,’ Nic said. ‘The Eyes are out.’

Across the table Poppet had taken on that euphoric drunken glaze that only meant one thing. ‘Let’s do shots!’

‘It’s a school night!’ Lizzy protested.

‘It’s Friday tomorrow. Go on, live a little!’

Nic shrugged, as though it was a necessary evil she had to go through. ‘OK,’ Lizzy sighed. ‘But I’m only doing one. And no flaming sambucas!’ She looked at her watch. ‘I need to be home by midnight. I’ve got a busy day tomorrow.’

Lizzy was woken up by the
beep beep
of a lorry reversing outside. Her whole body hurt, and it took a few moments to realize that instead of being tucked up in her pajamas in a warm bed, she was face-down on the sofa in her living room, still in her clothes.

She turned over and was hit by a wave of nausea. What had
happened
last night? She had very few recollections after leaving the cocktail club, except for ordering Jägerbombs in another bar, and Nic getting into an argument with a blue-haired transvestite about Whitney Houston …

Her mobile went off. It was probably Antonia wondering where the hell she was. Lizzy located her phone under the armchair. There was a sticky red smear on the screen that looked suspiciously like ketchup.

‘Hello?’ she croaked.

‘Oh my God!’ Poppet wailed. ‘I’ve lost my bra!’

Lizzy sat up and winced. ‘What?’

‘I woke up this morning with my dress on but no bra! Oh my God! I can’t remember anything! What if someone took advantage of me in my drunken state?’

‘Have you still got your knickers on?’ Lizzy asked.

‘Well, yes, but …’

‘Do you
think
something might have happened?’

‘I don’t know, I can’t remember!’ Poppet gave a despairing moan. ‘Oh God, what if I had sex I don’t even remember and now I’m pregnant?’

‘Pops, I’m sure no one took advantage of you and made you pregnant.’ Lizzy felt the saliva rush into her mouth. ‘I’ve got to go and be sick. Keep me posted on the bra.’

That morning was the longest of Lizzy’s life. She had the kind of rancid hangover that hits you at a cellular level and makes you feel like your skin is about to peel off your face and your teeth are going to fall out. The one saving grace was that Antonia had phoned to say her daughter Christiana was sick and that she wouldn’t be coming in. By 11 a.m. Lizzy had drained two litres of water and was sitting at her desk quietly wishing to die. Nic had been on an 8 a.m. flight out of Heathrow to New York. She’d sent Lizzy a picture of the massive fry-up she’d had for breakfast in the BA first-class lounge, which had nearly made Lizzy want to throw up again. The woman was a machine. How did she do it?

Just before lunch Lizzy went to have a hangover cry in the toilet and emerged feeling slightly better. When she got back to her desk there was an email from Poppet.

Found bra!!!!! It was in the side pocket of my bag. It’s all coming back to me now, I took it off in the toilet because the underwiring was digging into my boob. PHEWZERS!! I’M NOT PREGNANT!!! Xx

Lizzy wrote back:

I’m thrilled that you aren’t carrying some random stranger’s baby. Now can this day be over please?

Six o’clock couldn’t come round quick enough. Lizzy slept the entire bus journey home and nearly missed her stop. She stopped off at her local Tesco Express: tomato soup was about the only thing she could face for dinner.

‘Your card’s been declined,’ the man on the checkout said.

‘I don’t know why that is,’ Lizzy said. ‘Can you try again?’

The same thing happened. Lizzy paid for her shopping with her Visa card and left the shop with a very bad feeling. The ATM outside wouldn’t let her withdraw cash either, so she immediately called up her bank. ‘You’re eight hundred pounds over your overdraft limit, Miss Spellman,’ the woman told her.

Lizzy went cold. ‘There has to be some mistake.’

‘Let me just check … There was a cash withdrawal of five hundred pounds at 2.03 a.m. this morning.’

‘Five …
hundred
?’ Lizzy croaked.

‘Were you out last night, Miss Spellman?’

‘Yes, but … Oh my God! I must have only meant to draw out fifty pounds!’

‘And you don’t know where the money is now, Miss Spellman?’ the bank woman asked.

Lizzy started to frantically search her bag in the middle of the street. All she found was a twenty-pence piece and one of those green charity tokens from Waitrose.

‘It must be here somewhere …’

‘Miss Spellman, I’m sure you’re aware there’s a twenty-five pound charge for every day you go over your overdraft limit?’

‘Can’t you move some money round from my other accounts?’ Lizzy asked desperately.

‘Let’s have a quick look.’ There was a short pause. ‘You haven’t got any money in your other accounts, Miss Spellman, and I see you’ve also reached the limit on your Visa card. Was there anything else I can help you with today?’

A frantic search at home didn’t produce the missing money either. Lizzy sat down on the sofa and wanted to cry. Either someone had mugged her in Soho last night, or there was a cabbie driving round London right now with a very big smile on their face.

Even worse, she didn’t get paid for another week, by which time her bank charges would probably have amounted to more than her pay packet. She groaned softly. This is what her parents had meant when they’d always banged on about saving for emergencies. She tried Nic’s phone, but it went straight to voicemail. Poppet wasn’t answering her phone either, and she’d just been moaning the other day how skint she was. Lizzy wanted to cry again. She was never, ever drinking again.

There was only one option left. Lizzy would have rather crawled on her hands and knees over hot coals than ask this person for money, but right now she didn’t have much choice.

She dialled her sister’s number. After what seemed like three terminally long rings, Lauren picked up. ‘Can’t talk, I’m at work.’

‘I won’t keep you. Er, can I borrow some money off you until next week?’

‘How much?’

Lizzy swallowed. ‘Five hundred pounds.’

‘That’s a lot. What do you need it for?’

‘Um, I can’t really tell you.’ Lauren was incapable of keeping a secret. Before Lizzy knew it their mother would be on the phone giving her what for.

Lauren sighed heavily. ‘Do you need money to go on holiday with Nic and Poppet again?’

‘I only borrowed money for the flight to Costa Rica because Antonia was late paying my wages!’ Lizzy took a deep breath. ‘Trust me, it’s not a high point in my life having to ask my little sister to bail me out.’

Lauren was silent for a moment. ‘This is like the scene in
Dirty Dancing
where Baby borrows money off her dad to pay for Penny’s abortion, isn’t it?’

‘I’m not having an abortion! You have to have sex to get pregnant for a start. I promise you, it’s nothing like that.’

‘You know
Dirty Dancing
is my favourite film,’ Lauren said eventually.

‘Yes, yes I do.’ Lizzy picked a bit of dried ketchup off the arm of the sofa. How had it got there?

‘You and I always used to watch it together,’ Lauren told her. ‘Do you remember when we recreated the lift scene in the paddling pool and I almost broke your arm when I fell on to you?’

‘It’s one of my favourite memories of us together,’ Lizzy said dutifully.

‘OK. I’ll transfer the money over in the next hour. But if it does turn out to be for something dodgy you better tell Mum and Dad that I had nothing to do with it.’

Lizzy walked down the long row of Victorian terraces and turned in at number 74. She rang the bell and heard it chime down the hallway. A few moments later the front door opened.

‘Lizzy!’ Karen Jones gave Lizzy a big hug. ‘Good timing, I’ve just put the kettle on.’

Karen was Lizzy’s favourite client. The single mum from Barnet was the founder of Night Night Baby, a range of bedtime products for children.

‘Sorry about the mess,’ Karen apologized as she led Lizzy down the cramped hallway. There were toys and boxes everywhere. Since she couldn’t afford office overheads Karen was running her fledgling empire from her dining-room table.

They went into the kitchen, where there were more piles of paperwork covering every surface. Karen pushed a disgruntled tabby cat off the counter. ‘Shoo, Trevor.’

Lizzy sat down at the table while Karen put the kettle on and produced a plate of delicious chocolate brownies.

‘I’ve got wine if you fancy it?’ she asked. ‘There’s a bottle of white in the fridge.’

‘I’m fine on tea.’ Lizzy was still feeling slightly bilious from the Night of Carnage.

Karen sank gratefully into the chair opposite. ‘When you work from home people always think you sit on your arse watching Jeremy Kyle all day.’ She laughed. ‘If only they knew!’

The inspiration for Night Night Baby had come from Karen’s daughter, Molly, who had been a very bad sleeper when she was a baby. After ten straight nights of no sleep, Karen had been at her wits’ end. Remembering an article she’d read about natural soothing remedies, she’d gone down to her garden and picked a concoction of herbs and lavender, which she’d hung in a muslin pouch above Molly’s cot.

Amazingly, it had worked, and Karen had realized she might be on to something. What had started as a sideline had soon grown and Karen had left her job as an administrator in an electrical firm and remortgaged her house to put money into the new business. She was risking everything to go into a hugely competitive market, but she had a dream and Lizzy believed in her.

People like Karen Jones were the reason Lizzy did her job.

Karen showed Lizzy the latest product, a gentle oil to put into bath water. ‘I’ve been trying it out on my friends’ babies and the results have been amazing,’ she said proudly.

It was these personal, homespun elements that were integral to Night Night Baby. Karen Jones was the kind of woman you would trust with your child.

Unfortunately, it was proving hard to convince other people of that. A national baby magazine had promised them coverage in an article about sleeping patterns, but in the end it had gone with better-known brands.

‘We’ve had some great reviews,’ Lizzy told her client. ‘We just have to keep persevering.’

‘It’s just a bit dispiriting when you put your heart and soul into it. Not to mention all your money.’

There were dark circles under Karen’s eyes. ‘You look tired,’ Lizzy said gently. ‘Are you taking care of yourself?’

‘I get sleep when I can get it. That’s about my only luxury these days.’

‘Let me know if I can do anything.’ Lizzy reached over and took her client’s hand. ‘We’ll get there, Karen. You have to keep the faith.’

Karen gave a nervous laugh. ‘I bloody hope so – I’ve got everything riding on it!’

Things had got off to a promising start with the online dating. One guy in particular called
Foxy698
had been messaging Lizzy quite a bit. She’d always had a thing for men in baseball caps, and there was a picture of him on the deck of a boat wearing one and looking really fit.

‘He’s asked me out for a drink, but I’m not sure,’ Lizzy puffed. ‘He keeps calling me “young lady”, and his profile picture is of him holding a dead pheasant.’