The One You Really Want (31 page)

‘More fool you,' Mia said scornfully. ‘You'd rather mess around with Sadie the human cyanide pill.'

‘OK, now pay attention.' Clearly tiring of the argument, Connor's tone was brusque. ‘You may have stopped me seeing someone I do like, but I'm damned if I'll let you bully me into seeing someone I don't.'

Nancy forced her legs to move. Clinging to the banister, she crept silently back up the spiral staircase. At least the stairs, made of steel rather than wood, didn't squeak and give her away.

Retreating back through the gym, she heard the student-type on the rowing machine singing along with his Walkman. Evidently thinking he was alone, he was warbling ambitiously along to REM. As she sneaked past him he closed his eyes and bellowed, ‘Everybody hurrrrrts . . . sometiiiiime. '

Nancy quelled the urge to run up behind him and shove him off his rowing machine. That would hurt him. Jolly well serve him right for singing one of her favourite songs so hideously off-key.

 

‘I'm getting really cross now,' Mia grumbled. ‘I gave Marcus my Dolly Parton CD two hours ago and he
still
hasn't played it. Why do we have to listen to this boring old rubbish anyway?'

‘It's not boring old rubbish, it's U2.' Connor found it hard to believe his own daughter had such tragic taste in music. ‘And you're on your own with Dolly Parton.'

‘But she's great! If Marcus would just
play
the CD, you'd—'

‘We'd still hate it,' said Nancy, ‘and there's nothing you can do to make us change our minds.'

Mia looked as if her favourite teddy bear had just punched her on the nose. Her expression wounded, she said, ‘I thought you were my
friend
.'

‘I am.' Nancy checked her watch. ‘But you can't force me to like Dolly Parton.'

‘Well said.' Delighted, Connor clapped her on the shoulder.

Just like Mia can't force you to like me, thought Nancy. Aloud she said, ‘And now I have to go.'

‘Oh, stay a bit longer,' Mia begged. ‘If you hang on for another hour we can share a cab.'

‘Thanks, but I'll head off now. It's been great. Bye.'

As Nancy headed for the exit, she held her head high. Inwardly she might be a cringing ball of disappointment and humiliation, but on the outside she was serene, ice-cool and in control. Nobody was going to know how she felt, and, on the bright side, at least she hadn't made a full-scale fool of herself.

OK, so eavesdroppers might never hear good of themselves, but sometimes it was worth it to hear the truth.

Sadie Sylvester, passing her in the doorway, said with a smirk, ‘Home alone?'

Bitch. Silicone-breasted bitch. Flashing a sunny smile, Nancy said, ‘Absolutely. You should try it some time. And you've got lipstick on your chin.'

 

‘What are you doing?' Mystified, Nancy found Carmen stretched out across the navy sofa, sucking a pen and poring over a copy of
Time Out
.

Carmen pulled the end of the pen out of her mouth with a
plop
and said, ‘Moving.'

Sitting up, Carmen showed her the adverts she'd circled in Apartments to Let. ‘I've made a few appointments. Will you come along with me after work tomorrow? Take a look at them?'

Nancy peeled off her coat and plonked herself down on the sofa next to Carmen. ‘Why?'

Rennie, lying on his side on the floor watching
Citizen Kane
, said, ‘She hates us all.'

‘Not
all
of you.' Carmen stretched out one foot and prodded her toes against his jutting hipbone. ‘Only the ones who won't let you watch what you want on TV because they just have to watch ancient films on video.'

Taking a closer look at the ads Carmen had ringed, Nancy said, ‘Clerkenwell? Good grief, where's that?' Her head jerked up. ‘Are you serious?'

‘She's barking,' said Rennie, earning himself a kick. ‘Ow. And cruel to flatmates.'

‘Shut up,' Carmen told him, ‘it's something I have to do.' She turned to Nancy. ‘After the Joe thing. I never want to go through that again.'

‘But you aren't really moving out?' Nancy was worriedly reading the ads for one-bedroomed flats in unglamorous locations.

‘Of course not. Not properly moving out. But . . . OK, it's like with Nick and Annie from work.' Carmen waggled her hands and said falteringly, ‘They're just so nice, and it's not that I fancy Nick or anything,
because I don't
, but I don't want them to know where I live, in case it, you know, spoils things between us. But I've been to their flat three times now,' she hurried on, ‘and it's starting to get embarrassing because it's about time I invited them back to mine.'

‘So you're going to rent one and pretend it's where you live?'

‘Somewhere really grotty and horrible,' Rennie said with relish. ‘With cockroaches the size of terriers.'

‘I've lived in cheap flats before.' Carmen was defiant. ‘So have you. They don't have to have cockroaches. You can still make them nice. Remember the first bedsitter Spike and I got together? Couldn't get cheaper than that.'

‘The one with the rats in the cupboard under the kitchen sink? Oh yes, that was a palace. If that's the kind of place you're after, better buy yourself a pair of wellies,' said Rennie. ‘Rats find it hard to chew through the rubber.'

‘Do they find it easier to chew through videotapes of old Hollywood movies?' Carmen turned back to Nancy. ‘So will you come along with me tomorrow?'

‘Of course I will.' Nancy understood why Carmen needed to do this.

‘Can I come too?' said Rennie.

‘Oh yes, that'd be really helpful. Nobody would ever guess who Carmen Todd was if she turned up with Rennie Todd in tow. Now shut up and watch your stupid film, while I ask Nancy how she got on tonight at the club.'

‘Great,' lied Nancy. ‘Everyone was really nice. Well, apart from Silicone Sadie, obviously. I've got an appointment with one of the instructors on Sunday morning to have a fitness assessment and learn how to use the machines.'

There was no way in the world she could tell Carmen the humiliating truth about what had happened this evening, not with Rennie in the room.

‘Sex,' Rennie announced from the floor. ‘Trust me, that's all you need to keep fit.'

Tuh
, thought Nancy, chance would be a fine thing.

Sixteen B, Arnold Street, was the third flat they visited and Carmen knew at once that this was the one.

‘Yes,' she said, gazing with satisfaction around the living room. ‘This is it. It's perfect.'

Nancy was gazing worriedly up at the ceiling. ‘Are you sure?'

OK, it wasn't perfect, but it suited Carmen's needs and wasn't completely grotesque. They were in a quiet backstreet of Battersea and the landlord had assured her that the neighbours kept themselves to themselves. The first-floor flat comprised a tiny kitchen, an even tinier bathroom, one bedroom and a living room that looked out over the street. The decor was tatty, with floral wallpaper peeling at the edges. The last person to have wielded a paintbrush appeared to have bought a job lot of tester pots and painted each floorboard a different colour. The window frames were rotting, the furniture was mismatched and shabby, and bare bulbs dangled sadly from every light fitting. But there was a new white bathroom suite, which was a comfort, and the kitchen was reasonably clean. With a bit of luck there wouldn't be rats lurking in the cupboard under the sink.

Nancy was still peering in fascination at the multi-stained ceiling. ‘It's like a map of Europe up there. Look, there's Spain. And there's a mushroom!'

It wasn't a mushroom, it was a frilly-edged patch of fungus.

‘I'll give the whole place a proper clean,' Carmen said happily. ‘Buy some lampshades and rugs, make it homely. It'll be great.' She went through to the kitchen, where the landlord was reading an old
Evening Standard
and smoking a cigarette. ‘I'll take it.'

He yawned. ‘Five hundred quid deposit and first month's rent in advance.'

Carmen nodded and signed the rental agreement he spread out in front of her. She handed over the money in cash and watched the man's bald head gleam in the reflected light from the bare bulb directly above him as he wrote out a receipt. He lived downstairs and seemed entirely uninterested in his new tenant, which suited Carmen down to the ground.

Finally he passed her the front door keys and they shook hands.

‘And keep the noise down,' he said tetchily. ‘You don't look noisy, but you never can tell. Any racket and you'll be out on your ear. Got that?'

‘Got it. And in return I'd appreciate total privacy,' said Carmen pleasantly. ‘I won't be living here full-time. In fact I may not be staying here much at all. But when I
am
here, and friends come to visit, I don't want them to know that. Basically, you don't even need to speak to them.'

The landlord eyed her with suspicion. ‘You on the game?'

‘No. And I'm not a drug dealer.' Carmen smiled. ‘It's just . . . for personal reasons.'

‘I don't want any trouble. No police, no ambulances screaming up the street.' He wagged a plump warning finger at her and repeated, ‘I won't have trouble in this house.'

‘I'll be the quietest tenant you ever had. There won't be any trouble,' said Carmen. ‘I promise.'

‘He thinks you're married and having an affair,' said Nancy. ‘That's why he went on about police and ambulances. He's worried that your jealous husband might find out and come storming round with a shotgun.'

They had found a quiet table in the Queen's Head, on the corner of Arnold Street. A traditional working-class pub, it made a nice change from the trendy, done-up-to-the-nines wine bars of Chelsea. Carmen, tearing open a packet of smoky bacon crisps with her teeth, said, ‘If Spike could see what I was doing, he'd laugh his head off. Renting a flat just so I can pretend to be poor. Do you think I'm barking mad?'

‘Not really.' Innocently Nancy said, ‘Why don't you tell me a bit more about Nick?'

Carmen's eyes darted guiltily to her glass of red wine. ‘Nick?'

‘Nick-from-work. Nick-and-Annie Nick. The Nick you're doing all of this for,' Nancy reminded her, ‘despite not finding him even remotely attractive.'

‘Oh, that Nick.' Taking a huge gulp of wine, Carmen spilled some down the front of her orange T-shirt.

‘The one you thought wasn't single, but now it turns out he is. And you don't fancy him, he's just a really nice person you enjoy being with.'

‘He is. I do. He's a
friend
,' Carmen protested, mopping at her front with a tissue. ‘And you have an evil mind.'

‘Excuse me, can we just cast our minds - evil or otherwise - back a bit? Remember when we used to walk through the park on our way home from school and Spike Todd used to try to run us over on his pushbike? And he used to tease you about your haircut?'

‘Witch,' said Carmen.

‘And the next thing we knew, he's got you riding around on the back of his bike and you're laughing together and going to his house to listen to him play his guitar,' Nancy continued remorselessly. ‘But when I asked you what was going on, you said, “Oh nothing, don't be daft, Spike's just a
friend
.”'

‘I've finished my drink.' Carmen held up her empty glass. ‘Your round.'

‘So would Nick be
that
kind of friend?'

‘Shut up. I'm embarrassed.'

Nancy pulled a face. ‘Let me tell you, you don't know the meaning of the word embarrassed. I had Sadie at the club last night telling me what a show I've been making of myself over Connor.'

‘Oh well, don't take any notice of
her
.' Carmen gestured dismissively with her bag of crisps. ‘She's just jealous.'

Which wasn't as reassuring as: Of
course
you haven't been making a show of yourself. Nancy said with trepidation, ‘Have I? Oh God, has it been glaringly obvious?'

‘Nooo, not
glaringly
.' Carmen was consoling. ‘I mean,
I
can tell you like him, because I know you. But it's not as if you've been twirling your bra around your head and purring at him like Eartha Kitt. Anyway, men are so thick that if you aren't a tiny bit obvious, they'll never cotton on to the fact you like them.'

Oh hell. Nancy's skin prickled with shame.

‘Anyway, forget Sadie,' Carmen went on. ‘She's been dumped by Connor and isn't happy about it, that's the only reason she had a go. But he's a free agent now, and you get on brilliantly with Mia, so there's absolutely
no
reason why you and Connor—'