Chapter 25
Casual Connor:
Chunky petrol-blue merino roll-neck
Soft black cords
Cashmere socks
Grey suede Birkenstocks
‘Owen! It’s me, Mum, I just got your message,’ she barked into the phone as she left Florence’s and began to walk towards the Tube station.
By some miracle, he had actually picked up.
At least having zero money meant he couldn’t afford to be anywhere but in his room eating whatever morsels might happen to be left in his fridge.
She pictured him looking dubiously at the pot of cottage cheese she had bought him but she was completely certain he’d never touched.
‘How are you?’ she asked, a little bowled over with happiness at the sound of his voice. It had been over a week since they’d spoken.
‘I’m good apart from this,’ he told her.
‘Going to class, studying, practising, making friends, doing my laundry, remembering to eat…’ He reeled off the list. ‘It’s a lot,’ he added.
‘Sometimes the laundry takes the hit. My T-shirt is getting a bit stiff with all the deodorant I’ve had to spray on it,’ he joked.
‘Yes, it’s a lot,’ she agreed, ‘learning how to look after yourself. It’s a pretty good life skill though. So… have you spoken to the bank? Have they noticed anything? Have they frozen your cards?’
‘Spoken to the bank?’ Owen protested. ‘This isn’t the 1990s! You can’t speak to your bank. Turns out you can send the chat bot a message, which it says will be answered in two working days or you can be in a queue for about three hours to talk to some poor exhausted person in the Philippines.’
‘Yeah…’ Annie sighed. There was a lot about the trials of adulthood that Owen was about to learn.
‘Have you looked through your statement online?’ was her next question.
‘Can you see anything odd? Names you don’t recognise?
And there’s no money left… from the monthly money we’ve given you and your monthly loan money? ’
It was not lost on Annie that this was the 12th. Not even mid-month.
Owen was clearing his throat awkwardly. ‘Well, the payment for my halls went out… that was a biggie.’
‘Yeah…’
‘And I’ve looked through everything else and… well, food is expensive…’
‘Yeah…’
‘And going out and buying drinks is expensive…’
‘Yeah…’ she agreed, getting the feeling where this was headed. ‘And I thought I had more money in my account when I looked, so I bought a very cheap second-hand guitar off someone, which was a brilliant deal, but now… well, some payments have gone through from last week and…’
‘Basically, are you the one who has emptied the bank account? Not some mysterious AI bot scammer.’
Now it was Owen’s turn to mutter, ‘Yeah,’ in a downhearted way.
Annie was keen not to rush in and offer to fill the money crater Owen had created. The first month of adulting was always going to be hard. ‘Have you already paid the guitar guy?’ she asked.
‘Yeah.’
‘Do you think there’s any chance you could say you’ve changed your mind? Or could you get half your guitar money back and tell him you’ll pay the rest and pick up the guitar next month?’ Annie suggested.
‘Mum!’ Owen complained.
‘Well… you’ve got three choices here: return the guitar, go into overdraft, beg parents for money now and you’ll have a lot less next month. Or there’s find some work up there, I suppose. Maybe guitar lessons,’ she ventured.
‘Not a terrible idea.’
‘Busking?’ was her next suggestion. ‘Now that you’ve got a nice new-to-you guitar. I don’t think that’s particularly lucrative though.’
‘If I get some money back for the guitar… for now… will you and Dad advance me ￡200 on next month?’
‘A hundred and fifty,’ she countered. ‘And you’ll have to discover the joys of beans on toast and quiet nights in playing… dominoes,’ she joked.
‘Very funny, but everyone else is broke too now, so maybe we’ll all stay in and watch TV together.’
‘Sounds like a plan.’
‘Did Lauren ever run out of money in New York?’ was Owen’s next question. This made Annie laugh.
‘New York!! Of course she ran out of money in New York. She was in New York! In fact, she still owes me money, thanks for the reminder!’
‘OK, gotta go. Speak soon. I’m off to speak to a guy about a guitar.’
‘Love you, Owen, take care. You don’t have to talk to me every day, but you have to message.
At least every second day. OK?’ She wasn’t about to tell him that her new way of checking he was alive was opening Instagram to see if there was a recent update on when he had last been on.
She wondered how many other mothers all over the world took a little peek on social media once a day just to see the little green dots and know that their loved ones, even if they weren’t messaging or replying to messages, were safe and well.
* * *
‘Connor McCaby… it’s your best friend Annie calling,’ Annie began in her nicest possible voice as she came out of the Tube and began to walk briskly towards the Gallery of Textiles.
‘How are you doing? And how much cashmere do you need before winter kicks in? I may be able to source N Peal, direct from the manufacturer, maybe even some last-season Missoni.’
‘Oooooh, Missoni, I think I could rock a multi-coloured crocheted cardigan. I’ve lost the holiday weight and my trainer thinks my shoulders are almost perfect.
Almost, Annie, because we need something to aim for.
Now, what hideously insulting and demeaning thing is it you need me to do in order to earn my crocheted cashmere? ’
‘Well… I don’t know if you’re going to like this.’
‘No, I already know I’m not.’
‘You know about our fashion show, and by the way, everyone is talking about it and everyone is coming.’
‘Funny you should say that,’ he interrupted… ‘I heard two people, and they were important and stylish people talking about it in the gym sauna this morning.’
‘Oh… really? Is that good?’
‘That is very, very good. So… hit me up, what’s the request?’
‘Svetlana has hired Vince Hastie to be the compère—’
‘WHAT? You can’t go with him,’ Connor protested. ‘He’s so outdated. Honestly, he’s not even last decade. Some of those jokes are from the 1990s.’
‘I know…’
‘And there are rumours…’
‘I know…’ Annie said.
‘And some of them might be true…’
‘Yup… most likely…’
‘And honestly, Annie,’ Connor sounded serious, ‘he could be a liability to put on stage these days, because some really odd and inappropriate stuff could come out of that man’s mouth.’
Annie sighed. ‘Svetlana knows him and she’s booked him and I’m terrified.’
‘You should be. The whole thing could be a PR disaster if he’s involved.’
‘So, my friend Paula, you remember her…?’
‘Love Paula, she learned everything from you.’
‘No, she has her own sassy style too,’ Annie wanted to make that clear. ‘Anyway, we had a very, very good idea. Paula’s idea really—’
‘Sack Vince and use me instead?’
‘We can’t sack Vince…’
‘Oh no…’ Connor paused. ‘I don’t think I like where this is headed.’
‘We think if you compère with Vince, you’ll be amazing.
You can just completely roast him if he does anything cheesy, call him out if one inappropriate syllable comes out of his mouth and best of all, you’ll be able to bring joy, sparkle, laughter and charm to the evening, where Vince would have brought… just cringe.’
There was a longer pause. She respected it and gave Connor time to think.
‘This is for charity right? I’m going to be paid in cashmere and goodwill.’
‘Maybe even a vintage Mulberry messenger bag if you play your cards right…’
‘Any Burberry?’ Connor decided to up the offer.
‘I can get my hands on Burberry for you… does this mean you are thinking about it?’
‘Too soon, Annie, too soon… more bribery and flattery are required.’
Gallery of Textiles was in view, Annie had lights to find, a DJ to interview, so, so many clothes to sort out – a tsunami of clothes – and all the other things on her list. But still, she sat down on one of the benches set out in front of the gallery and gave Connor fifteen minutes of her undivided attention.
Because, she decided, it was totally worth it.
Everything she told him was true. He would be wonderful; he could totally work a double act with Vince and make it very funny.
An audience of important and interesting people would be there and it might lead to interesting opportunities.
Plus, he would be doing her a huge, huge favour and she always knew she could count on him and he could count on her.
At the end of her long, persuasive talk, he was basking in her flattery.
She could hear it in the warm and sunny tones in his voice.
But then out he came with the proviso: ‘I think it’s a good idea, but I’ll have to talk to my agent. ’
‘What?!’ she protested. ‘No! I want you to say you’re a yes now!’
‘New agent, baby, I can’t do anything without checking in with him first. He’s very protective, very mission focused. I can’t go wandering about doing things that are “off brand” any more.’
‘Well, when can you check with him, Connor? Can you give me an answer later today? Tomorrow?’ Annie was aware that her voice was rising and she sounded a little panicked.
‘Ermmmm… not till the end of the week. He’s on his wellness retreat – Bikram yoga and a detox.
He “steps away” from his phone during this time and gives himself a “mental reset.”’ Annie took a breath.
She tried to imagine herself on a wellness retreat, doing Bikram yoga, eating only healing, detoxing food, stepping away from her phone and her giant mental checklist of obligations.
A mental reset… how would she feel, how would she think, how would she be after a total mental reset?
It sounded wonderful. Sounded like exactly what she should book herself in for after this show was finished.
‘Well, babes, that sounds completely incredible. But you send him a telegram if you have to and tell him that helping out his oldest friend for charity is totally, 100 per cent on McCabe brand. And you will be knee-deep in cashmere, babes. Knee-deep.’
‘For you, Annie, I will try. And that’s a promise.’