The Debt & the Doormat (29 page)

‘Hi Pops,’ Dad says, seeming exhausted by Mum’s usual antics.

But I can't respond yet.  Oh my God.  The room.  It's Moroccan themed.  It's bloody ridiculous!  She’s laid new red patterned carpet and there are low slung red sofas covered in hundreds of cushions, each a different luxurious fabric – silk, velvet, woollen – every one of them embroidered in over the top patterns.

There are tiny tables placed around the room with floor cushions around them.  Even the walls are draped in fabric – red, purple, yellow.  I look up and the chandelier is now surrounded by billowing fabric.  God knows how it's even staying up there.  How much did this cost?

‘Darling?  Are you OK?’ Mum asks concerned.

‘No...It’s just the room,’ I say gesturing around.

‘I know!  It's fabulous isn’t it?  I’m so glad you like it.’ 

‘Hi Abbey,’ I nod, noticing her on the edge of the sofa.

‘Hi,’ she says, looking glum as she downs her wine.

‘You must be getting really excited about the wedding now then?  Only a week to go,’ I say, faking excitement as I try to find somewhere to sit down amongst the thousands of cushions.

‘Mmm, I would be if it wasn’t so stressful.’  She looks over at my Mum as she says it.

‘Yeah, did I hear right Mum?  Did I hear you say you’re wearing a white dress?’

‘Yes you did actually!  And I’m well within my rights to wear it!’ she shouts defiantly. 

‘For goodness sakes Meryl!  When will you just grow up and realise everything isn’t about you!?’ Dad shouts.

‘Mum!  You cannot wear a white dress.  And anyway, I don't think white suits you very well.  Abbey, what colour did you say the bridesmaids were in?’

‘They’re in brown,’ she says, uninterested.

Brown?  What the hell?  Why would you choose the colour of poo for your wedding day?

‘Aah, brown!  Well Mum, I’ve always loved you in brown.  It really suits your skin, you know, all bronzed and stuff.’

‘Mmm, I suppose I could look nice and tanned,’ she says, mulling it over.

‘Oh completely.  I think you’d look fab.  You should really do it.’  I hope I’m winning her over.

‘Oh, you’re right.  What the hell, I’ll wear brown.  I’ll get a fabulous brown dress made for me.  ‘Carol,’ she calls, turning to the family seamstress.  ‘I know Poppy was booked in for her dress fitting, but do you think you’d have time to do me first?’

‘I...’ Carol starts.

‘Of course you do, fabulous!  I’ll just go and get my strapless bra on.’  She turns and runs out of the room.

‘Poppy, thank you so much!’ Abbey says, running over and hugging me.  ‘You’ve literally saved my life.  My Mum said she’d punch her in the face if she turned up in white.  I’ve been having sleepless nights about it.’

‘Don't worry about it.  We know what she can be like.’  I smile knowingly at Dad.

‘You’re a lifesaver.  Listen...I know you were booked in to just get a normal dress fitted that your Mum bought for you, but I was thinking...do you want to be one of my bridesmaids?’ she asks jumping up and down in excitement.

‘Bridesmaid?’

I see Dad’s face break into a smile and I’m so tempted to hit him.

‘Yeah, what do you say?’

‘Um...I’d love to?’

‘Yay!’  She hugs me while jumping round in a circle.  ‘Henry will be so pleased!’

Really, as he’s always kind of hated me, I want to say, but instead I smile sweetly.

‘I’m back!’ Mum says, jumping into the room dressed in only her bra and knickers.

‘Jesus Meryl!  Put some clothes on,’ Dad shouts.

‘Oh, stop being a prude Douglas!’ she shoots back.  ‘What were you girls talking about then?’ she asks as she positions herself next to Carol.

‘Poppy’s just agreed to be my bridesmaid,’ Abbey says proudly.

‘Oh marvellous!  Make the most of it Poppy.  It may be the only time you’ll carry a bouquet in a church.’

‘Thanks Mum,’ I say rolling my eyes.

‘And your eyes will really pop next to the brown,’ Abbey says, her eyes lit up.

Brown.  I shudder involuntarily every time I hear it.

‘Oh yes,’ Mum sniggers.  ‘My little green eyed monster.’

I sigh in response.  I hate when she calls me that.

‘Yeah, Poppy.  I have always wondered.  Where did you get your green eyes from?’  She looks between Mum and Dad’s blue eyes.  ‘Is there an Aunt or something that you take after?’

‘We don't know,’ I say, sick of the same question I’ve had to answer my whole life.

‘I think Meryl had her way with the gardener!’ Dad teases.

‘That joke never gets old, does it Dad,’ I say drily.

‘It is strange.’  She looks at me closely, as if I were an alien.  It reminds me of the times when Mum would pick us up from school and the girls would say I was adopted. 

‘So Poppy, is there anything new with you?’ Dad asks, thankfully changing the subject.

‘Um...not really.  You know I’m living at Jazz’s at the moment don't you?’

‘In trouble again is she?  When will that girl grow up and settle down?’ Mum tutts.

‘She’s fine actually.  I’m just glad to have the company to be honest.’

‘Are you seeing anyone?’ Dad enquires, trying to be casual.

‘No,’ I say sadly. 

‘Well I was wondering darling,’ Mum interrupts, ‘Why don't you ask Stuart to the wedding?’

‘Stuart?  Are you fucking insane?’  I shout, instantly losing my temper.

‘Just a suggestion sweetheart!  No need to have a heart attack.’

‘Anyway, has anyone heard anything from Richard?’ I enquire, trying to sound casual.  Or more specifically has anyone heard about his whore of a wife.

‘Richard?’ Mum says, alarmed.  ‘Why?  What's wrong with Richard?’

‘No!  Nothing’s wrong!  I was just…making conversation.’

‘Oh.  Well I haven’t spoken to him in a few days.’

Great.  So they’re keeping it a secret.  Abbey looks at me as if to communicate that she knows more but can’t say.

‘Anyway darling,’ Mum says, taking me over to a quiet corner.  ‘Have you thought anymore about your
situation
?’

‘I haven’t got a situation.  How many fucking more times do I have to tell you!  I’m not pregnant!’

‘That's what I keep telling her,’ Dad shouts.

‘Darling, there's no need to lie to me.  A mother just knows.’

‘Well it seems I’ll just have to wait nine months to prove you wrong.’

I get up and storm out of the house.

‘And this is Matilda at the park...oh and look at her on the swing,’ Cheryl croons across the table with her camera.

‘Ah, cute.’  I smile politely as I try to ignore Lilly pretending to stab herself behind her.

‘Anyway, I must go.  Gotta go ring the Nanny and check my baby’s ok,’ she smiles before she leaves.

‘I swear that woman used to be fun before she ruined her vagina forever,’ Lilly snorts.

‘She’s not that bad,’ I protest, feeling bad to slag her off.  Her whole world is crumbling around her.

‘Oh, come on!  All the woman talks about is that baby.  If I ever get like that just shoot me, OK.’

‘Don't worry, the very minute.’  I make a finger gun and stick it to her head. 

‘That's sweet.  Anyway, have you seen any of Neville today?’ she teases.

I had of course filled her in on everything the minute I got back from lunch yesterday.

‘I’ve been avoiding him like the plague, poor thing.’

‘You do know that this is your own fault,’ she says, with no sympathy.

‘Yes.  You did remind me a few times.  I just can't be horrible to him.  He’s so lovely.’

‘You really do have a problem.  It's almost a disability.’

‘Whatever.  You’re just mean.’

‘Ah thanks,’ she gushes, taking it as a compliment instead of an insult.  ‘Anyway, I haven’t told you about Alex and the washing machine incident.’

‘No, what happened?’ I ask, bracing myself for the latest rant from their stormy relationship.  Well, I say stormy, more like Lilly shouts and he just tries to calm her down.

‘Well, so I’m in the kitchen, loading the washing in the machine and he comes in.  Then he starts – ‘

My phone ringing stops her in her tracks.  I glance at the phone, sure that it’ll be Jazz, but it's an unknown number.  I’m always a bit nervous about picking these up, but I’m too curious to ignore it. 

‘Hello?’ I say carefully down the phone.

‘Hi, is that Poppy?’ says an unfamiliar male voice.

‘Um...yes, but who’s this?’ I ask afraid that it's my bank. 

‘Um...this is Lewis.  I’m Teddy’s Grandson.’

Oh my God.  I’m going to pass out.  I’ve been set up with a stranger.

‘It's a bit awkward, but I was wondering if you wanted to go out for a drink sometime?’

‘Um...well....I’m not sure.’  I don't know how to let him down gently.

Lilly starts waving her hands in the air and mouthing ‘who is it?’ over and over again.

‘Look, I know I’m a total stranger calling you up, but the truth is that my Granddad won't stop pestering me to call you and take you out and he won't stop until I do.  I just really need to get him off my back.’

‘Oh, so you don't really want to go out with me at all?’ I say with humour in my voice.

Lilly looks like she might pass out from anticipation and starts shoving me on the shoulder, still mouthing ‘who?’ 

‘Well, I don't know.  I haven’t seen you yet,’ he laughs.

‘But I’m sure you agree it's what's inside that counts, right?’ I ask, shocked that I’m flirting.

‘Oh of course,’ he says playfully.  ‘Unless you’re a dragon.  So what do you say?’

I think for a moment.  What have I got to lose?  Ryan’s hardly talked to me since Sunday, probably scared to lead me on in case I’d pounce on him again.  Plus, if it goes well I could get a date for the wedding and get my Mum off my back.

‘Ok, I’ll go out with you.  Tomorrow night, 8pm at Whispers bar in Shepherds Bush.’

‘Ok great, see you then,’ he says, hanging up.

‘What the fuck!?’ Lilly exclaims, throwing her hands in the air dramatically.

‘My thoughts exactly.’

My phone rings again and me and Lilly stare at it in shock.

‘It can't be him again can it?’ she asks.  ‘Or have you been giving your number out to more random strangers?’

I glare at her and answer it.  ‘Hello?’

‘Hello, is that Miss Windsor?’ a posh voice bellows down the phone.

‘Yes,’ I say cautiously. 

‘This is Caroline from Grenada Estate Agents.  You wanted a viewing for Belvedere Road?’

‘Um...yes, that's right,’ I say, pulling away even more from Lilly.  If she hears this I’m dead.

‘Well the seller is willing to have Miss Green view the property.  How’s tonight for you?’

*
                            *                            *

‘I can't believe you’re making me do this,’ Jazz moans as we walk towards the flat.  It's an old Victorian terraced house which has been split into two maisonettes.  ‘And you’re still not gonna let me know why I’m doing it?’  She stares with wide suspicious eyes.

‘Um...let’s just say it's to help a friend,’ I say vaguely. 

‘How is putting in a higher offer helping a friend?’

‘It's a long story, OK.  So just shut up and act rich and obnoxious.’

‘Fine,’ she snaps.

The door of the flat swings open and a beaming estate agent smiles wildly at us.  She’s about forty-five, got pink lipstick on her teeth, and has greying wiry hair. 

‘Miss Green!’ she bellows, as if she’s know Jazz forever.  She turns to look at me.  ‘And you must be her PA!  Please come in!’

We follow her into the pale green hallway and then into the sitting room.  It's got three long sash windows and a massive original fireplace.  It's painted a pale pink and the floors are a cheap laminate which is bowed slightly underneath our feet. 

‘This is the sitting room.  As you can see it still maintains many of the original features.’

We nod appreciatively.  Then we’re led into the kitchen.  It looks like it's had five different kitchens fitted over the years and each cupboard door is different to the other one.  It has a tiny window leading onto the garden.  Suddenly I feel bad.  I can see Lilly living here.  I can see why she loves it, it's totally her in a flat.  Not perfect, but perfect for her.  Who the hell am I getting in the way of their happiness?  Maybe they’d be able to afford this flat once she gets made redundant anyway.  Maybe she’ll get a job straight away.  Or maybe she’ll be out of work for two years.  Oh God, I just don't know.

‘It's only minutes away from The Broadway with many shops, bars and restaurants,’ the estate agent continues.  ‘The closest station is Cricklewood National Rail.’  

‘Yes thank you,’ I cut her off.  ‘I’d like to talk over an offer with Miss Green.’

‘Of course,’ the estate agents bows, as if to a queen, slowly backing out of the sitting room. 

‘So, you want me to put a fake offer in?’ Jazz asks, her bottom lip sulking from boredom.

‘Yes.’

‘Oh, fine.’  She falls back onto the sofa with her arms out dramatically.

I see something colourful flash through the corner of my eyes and then an almighty crashing noise.  Jazz and I stare at each other, our eyes wide, neither of us knowing what just happened. 

‘Please don't tell me you just broke something,’ I say, my voice strained.

‘OK.’  She looks onto the floor.  ‘Then I definitely won't tell you I just smashed a vase in half.’

I look down and sure enough there is a red and black vase in two on the floor. 

‘Shit.’

‘Don't worry!’ she shouts.  ‘I have some nail glue in my bag.’  She runs over to her silver and gold bag and pulls out a little tube.

‘Are you OK in there ladies?’ Julie the estate agent’s voice says through the door.

Shit.

‘Stop her!’ I hiss at Jazz.  Jazz runs to the door. 

‘We’d just like a few more minutes,’ she shouts, holding onto the door knob.

I quickly pull the glue out and dab it along the edges.  Thank God it's a clean break.  I fuse the edges together and push tightly together.  I blow my hair out of my face, my forehead sticky.

‘Miss Green,’ Julie shouts.  ‘The owners are here now and they’re keen to talk to you.’

Jazz looks back at me in panic.  ‘Is it dry yet?’ she whispers.

‘I don't know,’ I say, my throat tight. 

Jazz suddenly falls back, Julie barging through the door, her face red and flustered. 

‘It seems we were having a bit of trouble with the door there,’ Julie says, looking at us suspiciously.  ‘Not that there’s any problem with the door of course,’ she corrects herself.

A couple in their sixties walk in.  The woman is tall, slim and has long blonde hair.  Her face is full of Botox and her teeth are clearly veneers, but you can still see her true age.  She’s dressed in a flowery maxi dress with sparkly flip flops.  The man has grey hair and a massive nose.  He’s short and a bit rough around the edges.

‘This is Mr and Mrs Clennel,’ Julie presents proudly.

They smile politely, their gaze eventually dropping to my hands, still holding the vase.  Jazz turns to look at me and looks at me as if to say ‘put the vase down’.

I smile nervously.  ‘Beautiful vase you have here.  I was just examining it.’  I walk over to the table and place it down, feeling everyone’s eyes on me.  They obviously think I’m a freak or something.  I try to leave it there, but it keeps getting attached to me.  I shake my hands a bit more violently but the vase is still attached to me.  Have I really managed to glue myself to it? 
Of course
I have.

I pick it up again and stand tall.  ‘Actually it's so beautiful I’d like to take a closer look.’  I pull it closer to my face while everyone looks on in horror. 

‘I’d like to make an offer,’ Jazz says loudly, seeming to be trying to be taking attention away from me.

‘Excellent!’ Julie beams. 

‘Yes,’ Jazz agrees.  She keeps looking at me in confusion, her eyes shooting daggers.  ‘Put down the vase,’ she’s desperately trying to communicate. 

‘How much would you like to offer?’ Mr Clennel asks, clearing his throat.

What the hell am I going to do?  How am I going to get this vase off my hands?  I start discreetly shaking my hands, then trying to pull them with all of my force off them.  How the hell can nail glue be so strong? 

‘Um...’ Jazz says.  ‘I’d like to offer a million.’

Three stunned faces look back at her.

‘You...you want to offer a million?’ Julie asks, her face pale.  She looks like she’s about to pass out.  ‘You do realise that the current offer is only at £200,000?’

For God’s sake Jazz.

‘Oh, really?’ Jazz shrieks.  ‘Did I say a million?  I meant....half a million....well, actually half of half a million,’ she smiles nervously, glancing from me back to Julie.  ‘I meant £250,000.  Yes, that's right.  £250,000.’

Mr Clennel eyes her suspiciously.  ‘And this is a genuine offer?’

‘Of course!’ I shout before I can stop myself.

He narrows his eyes on me.  ‘Can I have my vase back please?’

‘No!’

‘No?’ he asks, his voice as deep as a headmasters. 

‘I mean....I love it so much....um, I’d like to buy it!  Yes, Jazz would like to buy it from you.’

‘Yes!’ Jazz shouts, shuffling in her bag.  She pulls out a cheque book and a pen.  ‘How much?  Name your price.’

‘Oh, I’m afraid it's not for sale,’ Mrs Cle
nnel says with a girlish laugh.  Mr and Mrs Clennel and exchange smiles.  ‘You see, that vase was given to us on our wedding day from my Mother, God rest her soul.’

What?  Is she for real?  We’ve broken a priceless vase.

‘A million!’ Jazz shouts.  ‘A million for the vase!  Surely you can't say no to a million?’  Her forehead is sticky and she’s biting her nails.

Mr Clennel scratches his head, clearly wondering if this is a dream.  He glances at Mrs Clennel and she shakes her head.

‘No, I’m afraid it's not for sale,’ he says sternly, while his eyes seem to be wondering what he’d do with a million. 

Jazz looks at me in horror.  What the hell am I going to do?  Jazz raises her eyebrows as if a sudden genius idea has come to her.

‘Run!’ she screams, running into the hallway.

I stand there frozen, them all looking at me in disbelief.  Oh sod it.  I run out into the hallway, pushing Mr Clennel out of the way.  Jazz is at the front door struggling with the lock.

‘They must have locked us in!’ she shouts.  ‘Help me!’

‘I’ve kind of got my hands full at the moment!’

Three sets of footsteps slowly follow us out into the hallway, their bewildered faces staring.  They stare at us, still unable to speak as I feel my cheeks getting redder and redder.  I actually want to die.  This is the worst thing that's ever happened to me.  Much worse than that time I pissed myself laughing in secondary school.  That seems tame compared to this, and that's saying something.  I was called Poppy Pissy Pants until I left. 

‘Tah dah!’ Jazz exclaims, shoving jazz hands in the air. 

‘Sorry?’ Mr Clennel says.  Julie’s face is getting redder by the second.

‘That was a little performance we’ve been working on,’ Jazz explains.  ‘We’re playing at the local theatre next Saturday and you’ve been lucky enough to witness a scene from it.’