Chapter 14 #2
‘Darling,’ Jolly said, jumping to his feet. He kissed Obi on his cheek, grabbed the bottle, unscrewed it and took a large swig. ‘Shan?’ he said, wiping his mouth and waving it in my direction.
‘No, you’re all right.’
‘Go on,’ Obi said softly. ‘I nicked it from my brother’s room specially.’
‘He won’t notice?’ Jolly asked.
‘Nah, he spends most evenings round his fiancée’s now anyway.’
‘OK,’ I said, returning Obi’s smile and feeling the tension of the previous conversation melt from my shoulders. I took a sip. Fiery liquid burned the back of my throat. I coughed and passed it back to him.
‘Is V coming?’ Jolly asked him from the mirror.
‘No idea,’ Obi said, opening the window and feeling in his back pocket for filters. ‘She never tells me anything. I’ll just get a phone call out of the blue. Oh, Obi, can you meet me in South Ken? Obi, darling, there’s a party in Soho.’
I stared at my pumps, at the white flesh bulging from the tops of them. She’d never told me about any parties in Soho.
‘Yeah,’ Jolly agreed. ‘I was hoping she’d come tonight. But you know V. She probably wouldn’t be seen dead at a dank little house party like this.’
I gestured for the bottle. ‘Actually, can I have some more of that?’
IT WAS MIDNIGHT. NO one had heard from Victoria. I asked Obi to text her, hoping she’d reply to him, but when I found him smoking in the garden an hour later, he said she still hadn’t responded. I went inside.
‘Hey, Shannon.’ Stefano was sitting on the kitchen counter. He beckoned me over. ‘Are you having a good time?’
The music was loud. Bodies pressed in on me from all sides.
‘What?’
He tried again, louder this time. ‘I said, are you having a good time?’
The scrum pushed me closer. I shrugged and looked around for Jolly, Obi, anyone else I could speak to.
‘You know this is my housewarming, right?’ Stefano shouted in my ear.
‘I thought it was Abigail’s birthday?’
Stefano smirked. ‘I mean, yeah, sure. But people get birthdays every year.’
I looked around. There was still no one I knew. I gave in. ‘So what happened with your landlady, then?’
Stefano swigged his beer. ‘I don’t know. I mean, she was cool to begin with. It was a cheap room, although the house was kind of a dump – loads of hippy crap everywhere, incense, you know.’ He laughed. ‘To tell you the truth, I think she had a thing for me.’
‘Really?’ I said, trying to mask my disbelief.
‘Yeah, she was always running into me just after I got out of the shower, asking why I was home late, stuff like that.’
‘Right.’
‘You know what it’s like – some ladies, at a certain age .
. .’ He trailed off, seemingly unable to add any more substantiating details.
‘Anyway, so she gets this boyfriend.’ Stefano sat up straighter and puffed out his chest. ‘I could’ve taken him, if it came to it.
But then I thought, hey, if she wants to waste her time with a guy like that, then whatever.
I can live wherever, you know?’ He took another swig of his drink. ‘You look nice, by the way.’
‘Oh. Thank you,’ I said, taken aback by the compliment.
‘You should wear makeup more often. It brings out the blue of your eyes.’
My skin prickled, although not unpleasantly. ‘Thanks.’
‘And your hair, the redness.’
‘I don’t have red hair. Victoria has red hair.’
‘You do, sort of, in some lights. It changes though.’
‘Victoria’s is prettier.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Are you serious? She looks like a scarecrow!’
I gave him a playful shove, grinning despite myself. ‘Shut up.’
‘I’m serious. That girl’s got some Wizard of Oz shit going on.’
‘You’re just trying to make me feel good.’
‘And what’s wrong with that?’ Stefano asked, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
I didn’t answer.
‘You know, you and me, we should get a drink sometime.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘All we do is drink.’ It was true. Sometimes the musty carpets and sticky tables at The Masons felt more like home than my room in halls.
‘Yes, but . . .’ Stefano trailed off and reached for my wrist. For some reason I let him take it, whereupon he began running his index finger along my veins. ‘I more meant a drink like just the two of us.’
‘Maybe,’ I said, suddenly wanting to leave, to unsnarl my arm. I pulled away from him. ‘I should go. I think Jolly’s looking for me.’
Stefano reached for his beer and grinned. ‘Sure thing, Shannon. You go find your friend.’
I slipped into the crowd, feeling flushed and unsettled, rubbing at the place where he’d touched me, trying to erase the memory of his skin from my own.
Fairy lights twinkled from the living room ceiling.
Smoke filled the air. There was a window open but no one was bothering to stand near it any more.
La Roux’s ‘In For The Kill’ boomed from an iPod dock in the corner.
Hairy young men and indie-twee costume girls draped themselves across every available surface, limbs knotted, faces mashed into one another.
Good girls? I picked at a bowl of crisps and poured a slug of vodka into a beaker of cloudy liquid.
Just then, Jolly made his entrance. He’d somehow convinced one of the burlier techies to haul him up on his shoulders and, after crouching momentarily beneath the door jamb, rode into the room like Aladdin on a great elephant.
He cleared his throat theatrically until he had everyone’s attention, then began an operatic rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’.
Everyone joined in, and Abigail extricated herself from the tech guy she’d been under.
She climbed up onto the coffee table. Jolly took her hand and, with some manoeuvring from his ride, twirled her around in a circle.
Everyone harmonized on the final note then broke out into applause, after which Jolly was dumped onto the sofa and the crowd returned to their sordid ministrations.
I went to the window. Someone had left a pack of cigarettes on the sill, which I helped myself to.
I dangled my legs out of the window. I lit a cigarette and shuffled forward until I was more outside the room than in.
My bare feet grazed wet heads of lavender.
A car trundled down the street. Somewhere a siren bawled.
In the house opposite, a string of lights flickered red, gold and green.
A fox, lured by the row of overflowing bins, trotted across the road. It stopped and watched me for a moment, ears twitching, snout nosing the air. I heard a car approach. A pair of headlamps swung around the corner. The fox, briefly illuminated, dropped to its haunches and loped into the shadows.
The car, a taxi, rolled to a stop. I saw a flash of rust-coloured hair. My heart leapt. The door opened. One long pale leg emerged, then another. Victoria.
She chucked some notes behind her, slammed the door shut and stumbled towards the gate.
The lining of her dress was torn. A limp section of fabric hung down over her knee.
She teetered down the path. She looked skinnier than usual.
Her thin arms were bone-white against the dark shapes of the garden.
When she came closer I saw that her hair was sticky and tangled, her eyes smudged and vacant.
She staggered forwards, oblivious to my gaze.
‘V,’ I called out.
She stopped and squinted in my direction.
‘Shannon, is that you?’ she said, her voice little more than a croak.
I jumped down from the window. As I did, my skirt caught on some invisible thorn. ‘We didn’t think you were coming.’ I tugged at it and felt the rip of cheap fabric. ‘Are you all right?’ I asked, picking my way across the wet grass.
‘Mmm. Yeah, yeah,’ she said, pulling absentmindedly at the hem of her dress. ‘Who’s here? Is it just you?’
‘No,’ I said, trying to ignore the implicit dismissal. ‘There’s Obi and Jolly and Stefano. I think Matt’s around too, but he went off with some costume girl.’
Victoria, swaying, peered up at the house. I grabbed her arm to steady her.
‘Take me inside, Shannon. Don’t lose sight of me, OK?’
‘V, what’s happened?’
‘Nothing, nothing,’ she said. ‘He was there – but it’s nothing.’
‘Who was there? Where were you?’
She closed her eyes and shook her head. ‘A party, a film thing. It’s nothing.
’ She jerked her arm away. ‘It’s nothing, I’m fine, really.
’ She opened her eyes and, like the sun coming out, something lifted.
She was Victoria again. ‘Nothing. I’m great, I’m perfect.
’ But then it was gone. Her eyes became hooded and distant.
‘I just need you, Shannon. OK? Just – just don’t let me go. ’
‘I won’t,’ I said, taking her hand and leading her up the step. ‘I won’t leave you.’
‘IT WAS INSANE.’
‘Who was there?’ Jolly asked, resting his head against Victoria’s shoulder.
We were in the conservatory. It was 2 a.m. and the party showed no signs of slowing.
Everyone had perked up at Victoria’s arrival.
Jolly had kissed her face like a homesick dog, while Stefano had given her a fireman’s lift and carried her though the house.
As soon as we were inside, around people, Victoria returned to herself.
With an audience, she seemed to make sense again.
‘Erm, fuck. Who was there?’ She glanced at the ceiling. Her eyes were glazed and faraway. I looked across at Obi to see if he’d noticed, but he was staring off into the garden. ‘There were some casting director types, my agent, her team, some actors – Colin Firth, Jennifer Ehle.’
‘Go on, who else?’ Jolly said.
‘Erm, Helena Bonham Carter was there and Eve Best, Tim Spall.’
‘Oh my God, V. You have got to bring me next time as your plus-one,’ Jolly said.
‘Or me,’ Stefano chimed in. ‘Don’t take him. You’ll look much better with a big strong Italian on your arm.’
‘Big?’ Jolly said beneath his breath.
Something unpleasant flashed behind Stefano’s eyes. But then he laughed and the moment was gone.
Obi got up. ‘Do you want anything, V? A glass of water maybe?’