Chapter 21 #2
‘He doesn’t have quite your personality, of course.’
‘Well, I’d hope not.’
‘But he’ll always be here – a sort of monument to you, as it were.’
‘Like my very own Barack Obama Plaza.’
‘Exactly!’
It wasn’t Roly’s proudest moment, being replaced by a piece of cardboard, but as he walked home, he found he was pretty cheerful on the whole about being let go.
It would free up more time for him to work on getting in shape.
Now that the Oh Boy! reunion was underway, he was on a deadline and he needed to step up his fitness training.
Then a horrible thought occurred to him.
Did this mean he had to go back to signing on?
And how the hell could he explain this to Geraldine?
* * *
Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around
It was the week before Christmas, and Ella was busy studying for exams amid a flurry of shopping, parties and get-togethers when Roly called.
It was over a year since she’d last seen him.
They still messaged and spoke on the phone sometimes, but increasingly rarely, so she was surprised when he said he was in Dublin and wanted to meet up.
But she didn’t hesitate, despite the fact that she had so much to do and so many people with more of a claim on her time.
Luckily it was the party season, so she didn’t have to worry about having nothing to wear.
She’d bought a sparkly silver mini dress last week that she loved, and as she got ready to go out, she felt all the excitement and anticipation of a big date.
Except that it wasn’t a date, of course, she told herself, pausing as she brushed her hair to give herself a stern look in the mirror.
It was just Roly – two old friends catching up.
That’s what she’d told Andrew – that she was meeting up with an old friend from school – and it was the truth.
He suggested the place – a dark, trendy bar on the quays that she’d never been to before. Even though she was the one who still lived in Dublin, he was more up to date on the cool new places.
He was already there when she arrived. She peered through the gloom and found him sitting at a table near the back.
He was wearing a hideous red suit and sporting a scruffy old-man beard.
His hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks.
Why did beautiful people do that – as if ugly clothes and grungy hair were some kind of camouflage?
He still looked lovely to her. But she noticed his eyes were glassy as he stood to greet her, and his breath smelled of whiskey as he kissed her cheek.
‘This is nice,’ she said, looking around. The bar was ostentatiously quirky, with plush red sofas and heavy crimson curtains giving it a bordello air.
‘What’ll you have?’ Roly slid a thick, hardcover cocktail menu across the table.
Ella flipped through the pages. Each cocktail had a page dedicated to it, with long, whimsical blurbs and flowery descriptions of the ingredients.
She plumped for a Death in the Afternoon, which apparently had been invented by Ernest Hemingway.
Roly ordered something called a Corpse Reviver #2, which seemed appropriate.
‘So, how’ve you been?’ she asked as their drinks were delivered by an impossibly glamorous waitress.
‘Brilliant, yeah. Our new single is top of the charts ten weeks running so far. The album went straight in at number one in the UK and US.’
‘That’s… great. Congratulations! But I meant you. How are you doing?’
‘Well, great, obviously.’
‘What have you been up to?’
‘You mean apart from touring all over the world, playing sell-out concerts, and generally living the dream?’
Ella smiled. She liked his confidence. Even when it spilled over into arrogance, it could be kind of adorable when she was in the mood. Tonight she just found it tiresome. ‘Apart from that, yeah.’
‘Oh, you know – the usual. Counting my socks, taking the bins out… You?’
‘Yeah, same.’ She took a long sip of her drink. ‘But mostly studying at the moment. I have exams coming up.’
‘Oh, that’s a drag. Poor you.’
She shrugged. ‘It’s fine. I’m doing what I want to do.’
He nodded abstractedly, then drained his drink and called the waitress over to order another. ‘You?’ he asked, pointing at Ella’s glass.
‘No thanks, I’m fine.’ She wasn’t even halfway down it yet.
‘Drink up, brainiac! Do they teach you nothing in that college of yours?’
Before she could reply, he excused himself to go to the loo.
When he returned, Ella sat in dismayed silence, unable to get a word in as he rambled on loquaciously, boasting about Oh Boy!
’s next album, which apparently was going to be ‘huge’, the size of the arenas they’d played, the ridiculous spoiled brat riders they got away with, the producers they’d worked with, the famous people he’d met, the countries he’d been to, even the size and luxuriousness of the hotel rooms he’d stayed in.
She waited for him to take a break and ask her something – anything – about what she’d been up to, but it never came.
Still, it served her right. She’d blown off drinks with her study group to come here tonight. This was what you got when you ditched your friends in favour of a ‘better offer’.
‘So, I’m really loving Trinity!’ she said eventually, breaking into a long rant about Oh Boy!’s tour manager.
‘Oh, right.’ He nodded. ‘Great.’
‘Yeah, it is.’ She felt like she was wading through mud.
‘It’s just putting real life off a bit longer, though, isn’t it? Delaying the inevitable.’
Ella frowned, bristling. ‘No. It’s really not. It is real life, Roly. It’s my real life.’
‘But it’s just more school.’ He took a long slug of his drink.
‘No, it’s so different. I feel like my life is really starting, you know?’
‘Seriously?’ He gave her a pitying little smile, and she wanted to punch him.
‘Yes, seriously.’ She wished she could convey to him how exciting it all was to her – new people, new ideas, independence; the feeling of life opening up and broadening out, the world becoming so much more expansive than she’d ever imagined it was, and somehow all available, hers for the taking.
‘That’s how I felt when I started with the band,’ he said, steering the conversation back to himself. ‘Like everything before was just kids’ stuff, and this was the real deal – seeing the world, earning real money. It’s like… living life, instead of just reading about it in books.’
‘Well, I’m not just reading about going to college in books – I’m actually doing it.’
‘Sure, sure. I guess it’s all relative, right? I mean, having drinks in the student bar is probably exciting for you if you’ve never—’
‘Never what?’ she snapped, finally losing her patience. ‘Snorted cocaine off some groupie’s boobs?’
Roly laughed. ‘Well…’
Ella rolled her eyes, huffing in exasperation.
‘Sorry, sorry. And I never did that either, by the way.’
‘I’m glad to hear it, considering most of your groupies are underage.’
‘Hey, that’s not true. I mean, they may have been in the beginning, but they grow up too, like the rest of us.’
‘Sorry.’ She sighed. ‘Let’s not fight.’
‘Deal.’
‘Are you still seeing Pippa?’ He’d told her about his girlfriend on the phone the last time they spoke, but she’d have known anyway.
She’d seen the photos of them together online and on the covers of magazines.
Pippa was a ‘face’ and appeared in celebrity reality shows, but Ella wasn’t sure what had originally made her famous.
‘Yeah, we’re moving in together.’
‘Where?’
‘London. She’s got this great house in Notting Hill.’
‘Well, I’ve met someone,’ she said, since he clearly wasn’t going to ask.
‘Oh? Who’s that, then?’
‘His name’s Andrew.’
‘And you’re shagging him? Little Ella has lost her cherry?’
‘Oh, fuck off, Roly.’
‘No, it sounds romantic – shagging in the dorm, trying not to get caught by… whoever polices those places. Or are you allowed shag in college now?’
‘We don’t live in college, as it happens.’
‘So you’ve moved in together already? That was quick work.’
‘Was it?’ He had no idea whether it was or not since he hadn’t bothered to ask when they’d met or how long they’d been going out. ‘Anyway, we were living together before we started going out – that’s how we met. We’re in the same house share. And he was in my philosophy tutorial…’
‘Philosophy!’ Roly gave a hoot of laughter. ‘You’re studying Philosophy? Seriously?’
‘I was in first year – Philosophy, Politics, Economics and Sociology.’ She’d already told him this. ‘But on the degree we’re doing, you gradually specialise in one or two of those. I’m not continuing with Philosophy.’
‘Good call,’ Roly said. ‘I don’t imagine there’s a big demand for philosophers these days. What about Andrew? Is that what he wants to be when he grows up – a philosopher?’
‘He’s going for a single honours degree in Philosophy, yes.’