A Life Less Lonely (26 page)

Chapter One

‘AND THAT WAS Robbie Williams and Feel, now on his Greatest Hits album, out in time for Christmas, just two short months away… Time check and it’s 20 seconds to midnight… coming up shortly is Bob Andrews with a round-up of the news and weather… And I’ll be back after that with more mellow music and ready to take your calls…’

There
was a split-second pause, and then the familiar time-check beeps were followed by the musical sting leading into the news. Allegra turned the volume down on the radio and sighed. Jackson Flye, what an amazing voice the man had. Like hot butter melting on toast. She wondered, not for the first time, what he looked like.

She
knew that quite often, radio DJs who sounded like liquid sex on air were often the plainest, nerdiest blokes in real life. The voice and the face rarely matched; in fact, the sexier the voice, the uglier the bloke, usually, in direct proportions. That would probably make Jackson Flye look like the less attractive twin brother of Quasimodo, she decided, because his voice alone made her want to take off all her clothes immediately and have sex with the radio.

‘Sex with the radio? Are you insane? Bored of your vibrator already, are you?’

Allegra’s
eyes snapped open. Oh crap, had she been thinking out loud again? Apparently so, because Liz was grinning like a lunatic at her.

‘So go on, why do you want to have sex with your radio? Sounds most interesting and possibly quite challenging. Are you going to unplug it from the wall first? Or does it have a vibrate function that I don’t know about? Come on, answers please, enquiring minds seek to know,’ Liz said, rearranging the cushions on the armchair and settling down.

‘I don’t know why I let you in here. This was a pure, clean space, free of evil thought and deed, and then I made the mistake of inviting you over for a drink. You have soiled my karma now, with your crude words and uncouth talk. I’m afraid I have no choice. You must die,’ Allegra said, closing her eyes again.

‘Now,
silence, while I meditate upon your fate in order to learn the best way to torture and kill you for your intrusion into the cosmic peace of my very soul.’

‘Blah blah blah, shut up and get me another drink. You’re a crap hostess,’ Liz said, flicking through a magazine. ‘And don’t you have anything halfway decent for me to read? All this girly stuff here; where’s Mojo? Spin? Q? I’d even take Rolling Stone now, anything’s got to be better than yet another pathetic “wimmins” magazine with yet another pathetic instructional guide on how to give your bloke a blow-job. Hell, it’s not even illustrated.’

‘Get your own drink and shhhh, he’s coming back on now…’ Allegra groped for the remote control and increased the volume on the radio. The news and weather report were done; Jackson Flye was due back on air now. She wasn’t having sex, she wasn’t doing drugs; she figured she could at least indulge in some aural porn, which is basically what his voice was like for her. ‘Oh God…. Listen to that voice, Liz! It’s just sooooo sexy…’

Liz
snorted in disagreement and got up to find the bottle of wine they’d opened earlier. Allegra was nestled comfortably on the sofa, feet curled up underneath her as she closed her eyes and smiled at the sound of the DJ’s voice. Allegra’s new apartment was small, but she’d done everything to make it feel as spacious as possible. The sitting room was blessedly large for a Hong Kong flat of this size, that was one bonus. It accommodated a comfortable sofa and a big, squishy armchair, a low table which housed the small TV, a DVD player and the hifi unit. Along the opposite wall were floor-to-ceiling shelves, filled with books and DVDs, mostly belonging to the children.

Otherwise
there was nothing else in the room. It adjoined the small kitchen, which had just about enough space for a tiny fridge and a two-ring cooker. The flat was, on the whole, sparsely furnished. The smallest room served as Allegra’s workspace: a desk, a chair and her beloved computer and assorted paraphernalia. The largest bedroom was for the children when they came to stay. This is where Allegra had spent all her money, on big, comfy beds, cheerful curtains, bedside lamps and little night tables to store all their “secret” things.

Her
own room, meanwhile, had a single bed, two railings running the full length of the longest wall and holding the few clothes she had kept, and compact plastic chest of drawers. A small nightlight on the floor was the only other thing in the room. She hadn’t even put up curtains, but had hung up a colourful sarong over the window, wedging it into the frame to hold it in place.

Liz
had felt horribly sad as Allegra showed her around the flat earlier that evening, and decided she needed to get her a bunch of plants to put on the window ledge behind the kitchen sink. That and a big potted palm for the sitting room. Something alive to bring life into the place. Otherwise, there was an air of hesitancy there which just wasn’t natural. Maybe it would settle down after a while, but Liz doubted it.

Although
Allegra had lived there since her divorce was finalised nearly 10 months ago, tonight was the first time she had invited Liz over, mostly because she was ashamed of her shabby little place compared to Liz’s lovely home in Yau Yat Chuen. Allegra had kept her flat brutally clean and tidy. She didn’t spend a cent on herself, saving every little bit she earned for taking the children out to nice lunches and movies and splurging out on Dial-a-Dinner when they were with her.

Her
whole life had been turned inside out after the acrimonious split from her husband of 11 years, and she had put up impenetrable barriers around her personal life, living only for her kids. It was a struggle for Liz to get Allegra to agree to join her for a drink; although Allegra said it was just because she didn’t like going out anymore, Liz knew it was because it was cheaper to buy a bottle of wine to share at home than to pay bar prices for a single glass of house white. Even Liz’s insistence that drinks would be on her was met with stony refusal.

Allegra
had too damn much pride to accept sympathy in any form. She’d also lost a worrying amount of weight. Liz had no doubt that this was because she wouldn’t even spend money to feed herself properly. The only time she ate decently was during the children’s visits, and even then she would often feign fullness, declining to order a meal for herself, instead eating whatever they couldn’t finish, making a game by pointing out the window and yelling, “Look! A dragon!” and sneaking a fry off their plates as their heads automatically turned to see. Then they would look back at her with mock reproach and tell their mother that she was very, very silly, not like other mums.

‘Liz! What is taking you so long? Have you fallen out the window?’

‘Coming, coming, coming,’ Liz grumbled. ‘Lord, you stop to remove a cork from a wine bottle and you get harassed. Where’s your glass, woman?’

Allegra
lifted her glass for Liz to refill and smiled. She was glad she had Liz, who might be a bit of an emotional train-wreck herself sometimes, but at least they could prop each other up. And she’d been a solid pillar of support over the dark months of the last two years, as Allegra’s life was torn apart by lawyers and a husband who didn’t love her, but buggered if he was going to let her go anyway, not least without making sure she first suffered as much as he could possibly arrange.

‘And it’s the Midnight Hour here on Central FM, I’m Jackson Flye, ready to take your calls… And while you’re dialling, here’s Maroon 5 and my favourite song off their CD Songs About Jane, this one’s called Sunday Morning…’

As
the song began playing, Allegra squealed. ‘That’s my favourite song off that CD too!’ she said, excited to hear the song, despite the fact that Songs About Jane played on endless repeat on her hifi all day anyway.

‘Oooh, it’s a sign, Allegra! He must be your soulmate! This was meant to be!’ Liz had put on a high-pitched voice, grinning. ‘Jackson and Allegra sitting by a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N…’

She
didn’t get a chance to finish the silly rhyme as a cushion had been flung across the room and she put her hands up to catch it. ‘Why don’t you call into his show?’ she asked.

‘Yeah, and say what? “Hi, I’m Allegra and you have the sexiest voice I’ve ever heard in my life, how’d you fancy coming over for a massive shag session?” Somehow, I can’t see that going over too well. Central FM probably has storm troopers stationed around town, ready to abseil into the flats of crazed, lonely women calling up to harass their DJs,’ Allegra said.

‘Actually,
pass me the phone, maybe they do have crack ninja pirate squads just for that purpose, and one of them could come crashing in through my balcony doors and whisk me away, ooh, maybe he’d be really sexy, like Johnny Depp’s twin brother or something. Or Keanu Reeves. Oooh, yes, like Keanu Reeves in Speed. Yum, yum, yum…’

‘You’d lose the security deposit on the flat if a bunch of sweaty blokes dressed as ninjas did come crashing in through your balcony door, you wombat,’ Liz said. ‘I’d go back to thinking about having sex with the radio, if I were you. Bit less messy, although it would bugger up the internals, I imagine — both yours and the radio’s.’

‘Oh, you’re just no fun,’ Allegra huffed good-naturedly. ‘Anyway, hush now, he’s taking a call, maybe this one will have the guts to ask him out on a date…’

‘Hi, you’re on the air with Jackson Flye…’ The DJ’s voice was deep and husky, hot honey, molten chocolate… ‘And you are…?

A
woman’s voice came on. ‘My name is Perdita…’

‘Perdita? From the Latin perdu, meaning lost? Beautiful name…’ Jackson Flye responded. Allegra smiled. He was smart, too.

‘ “Perdita from the Latin perdu”?’ Liz scoffed, interrupting her thoughts. ‘Christ, he’s full of it. More likely Perdita from 101 Dalmatians, can only mean she’s a dog.’

The
woman caller had laughed, a little taken aback by Jackson Flye’s observation. ‘Yes, I guess so, although I’d never really thought about it that way,’ she said. ‘I wanted to ask your opinion as a guy, about a silly problem I’m having… See, there’s this man I like, and I think he likes me, but I’m confused. He’s really flirty and friendly when we’re together, but…’

‘Has he asked you out?’ Jackson Flye asked. ‘Have you spent any time alone together? Or always with a group of people?’

‘Well, that’s the thing. He’s got a steady girlfriend. They’ve been together for about two years, he said. So what I don’t understand is why he’s flirting with me… I’m not going to be the “other woman”, but at the same time, he’s so cute and it’s really nice to have all that attention from him,’ Perdita replied.

‘Honey, he sounds like bad news to me,’ Jackson Flye said. ‘Take it all with a pinch of salt, that’s my honest opinion. I don’t think he means to hurt you, but nothing is going to come of this. If he was really into you, you’d know it for sure by now.’

‘But we’ve only known each other for a couple of weeks, Jackson,’ Perdita said, her voice imploring, clearly hoping Jackson Flye would conclude that this mystery flirt of hers was madly in love with her and prepared to dump his loving girlfriend in order to be with her, that all he was waiting for was a sign from her. ‘Maybe he’s just trying to work out how he feels before he does anything… you know, like ask me out… or leave her…’

‘Perdita, listen to me. Guys are driven by one thing and one thing only, and that’s sex. He might fancy you, but as long as he’s in a relationship, you’re screwed. Or not, as the case may be… If he really wanted to be with you, he’d move heaven and earth in order to be with you. But I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt on your behalf, on the off-chance that he is the one bloke on the planet who is the exception to the rule, then you’re just going to have to relax and let him sort himself out. Believe me, if a guy likes you, he’s not going to forget he likes you. It might take days, weeks, months, even years before he’s finally ready for you… and who knows, you may hopefully have moved on and found a guy who’s emotionally available to you in the meantime. Don’t waste your time, sweetheart, life’s too short for this kind of crap.’

‘I know you’re right, Jackson,’ Perdita said, sounding sad. ‘Thanks… thanks for listening.’ She hung up.

‘Ladies, you are all beautiful, intelligent, gorgeous women, and you deserve to be treated like goddesses,’ Jackson Flye told his listeners. ‘Don’t accept anything less. If a guy isn’t prepared to treat you with respect and honesty, move on. There are a million other blokes out there waiting for you… Speaking of which, here’s a song on just that subject, and it goes out especially to Allegra…’

Allegra
sat up with a start and stared at Liz, who was snuffling into a cushion, trying to keep a straight face. ‘Bitch, you called him!’ she hissed, mortified. Although she did get a shiver from hearing Jackson Flye say her name. That would fuel her fantasies for a few nights at least.

‘It’s an oldie but a goodie, just like Allegra herself, I’ve been told,’ Jackson Flye continued. ‘Elton John’s Are You Ready For Love…’ The opening bars of the song began playing. ‘I hope you’re ready for love, Allegra, because I’m sure you deserve it.’

Both
girls burst into a fit of giggles. Allegra thanked her lucky stars again for Liz. She’d never have made it this far without her friend, even though sometimes it did seem like Liz was out to publicly humiliate Allegra as much as she could for her own personal amusement. When Jackson Flye signed off at 1am and Allegra finally switched off the radio, Liz went home.