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Authors: Jenny Colgan

Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend (30 page)

BOOK: Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend

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‘Come on, you two,’ I said. ‘We’ve got rabbit costumes to get you into, and time’s a wasting.’

‘I want the pink one,’ said Grace.

‘The pink tail is for the smallest arse,’ said Kelly. ‘So good luck with that.’

Eck left a text message on my phone. It just said:
tx for lst night. dnr? Cant do posh restaurant again. Spag bol?

I smiled to myself as I cleared up. I was going home to someone. Someone who would be pleased to see me. Someone who wanted to make me spag Bol. I really ought to learn to cook, I thought. I imagined us - I knew I was getting ahead of myself, but it was so long since I’d had something to hope for, I couldn’t help it - I imagined us, maybe, in a little house, like those cottages in Chelsea, maybe not quite in such a nice area. Though maybe Eck could go do accountancy for one of those big firms that charge lots of money then get caught in billing scandals.

‘Hey!’ I said when I got home. Carena hadn’t texted back, but I had the right number, so I’d have to assume she’d seen it. Thinking about the wedding made me nervous and a bit excited at the same time. Somehow, being there with a camera round my neck, with Julius Mandinski - well, it showed I wasn’t begging in the gutter, didn’t it? Even if it didn’t show how close to the gutter I actually was.

Eck smiled back at me, from where he was balancing two candles stuffed in wine bottles on the rickety kitchen table. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘I’ll just light these.’

‘I can’t believe you can cook,’ I said, looking at the two misshapen pots bubbling on the stove. He gave me a funny look.

‘It’s spag Bol, Sophie. That’s not cooking.’

‘It bloody is,’ I said. ‘Smells great.’

‘Thanks,’ he says. ‘I was going to bribe the others to go to McDonald’s to get them out of the house for the night.’

‘How old are they, four? Did you say they could have a happy meal?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I didn’t have enough cash to bribe them. So I just resorted to begging. James has gone to the Campsie Fells anyway.’

‘Good,’ I said. I could relax. We weren’t going to get interrupted by Cal bringing home a girl, or Wolverine snuffling around the skirting boards. I didn’t feel very relaxed, though. I suddenly felt nervous. Eck’s hair flopped over his brow as he concentrated on lighting the candles.

‘So, sweet girl,’ he said. ‘How was your day?’

It had been a long time since I’d wanted to tell anyone how my day was. I felt my heart open and my cares fall away.

‘It was good!’ I said. ‘I’ve got a proper job! A wedding! Actually, Carena’s wedding!’

And I told him all about it.

‘Won’t that be a bit strange?’

I opened the cheap bottle of red wine that was sitting on the sideboard.

‘Have we got two glasses?’

‘Matching?’

‘No, that doesn’t matter.’

‘Still, er, no. One pint glass nicked from a bar, one Arsenal mug.’

‘I’m a Chelsea supporter.’

‘You would be. Pint of red for you, then.’

I poured out the wine.

‘Yes, it will be strange. A few months ago the idea of it would have made me want to hide in a cupboard for a week. But, actually . . . I think it’ll be OK.’

‘I think it will too.’

I smiled, enjoying the couple-at-home-fantasy.

‘So tell me about
your
day, darling,’ I said, expansively.

‘My day was . . . interesting,’ said Eck. He gave me a sideways glance, going back over to stir the bubbling sauce. ‘I thought a lot about you.’

‘Oh yes? You may have crossed my mind too.’

Eck smiled, then came over and kissed me. I kissed him back as enthusiastically as I could manage whilst trying to balance a pint glass and an Arsenal mug full of wine.

‘Ooh,’ I said, when he’d finished.

‘And . . . I don’t know. I don’t want to freak you out.’

‘Why? Have you got a gimp mask under your bed?’

‘A what?’

‘Never mind.’

He looked at me. ‘This sounds stupid . . . well, anyway, it’s nothing to do with you. OK, how does that sound?’

‘Fine . . .’ I said, not sure what to expect.

‘You know, if I applied for jobs now I could start after the final show,’ he said.

‘You’ve thought about all this, just today?’

Eck looked pained. ‘I knew this would freak you out.’

‘No, no, it’s interesting.’

‘It’s just, well, when we were talking last night . . . I felt I kind of admitted it to myself. I’m no artist, Sophie.’

‘Except of spaghetti Bolognese,’ I said, as he dished me up a plate.

‘Be serious, please.’

‘Sorry.’

‘It’s been going round my head for a long time, but talking to you . . . I mean, the degree show is in a couple of weeks, then I could find a job over the summer, then . . .’ He glanced up at me. ‘Well, I might look for a flat somewhere, and you never know, you might . . .’

‘Hang on, hang on,’ I said. ‘You figured all this out today?’

‘It was a quiet day,’ he admitted.

‘Every day is a quiet day in the world of gigantic metal spiders.’

Eck’s hand went to the back of his neck. ‘I know . . . I know . . . sorry . . . I just . . . I couldn’t help myself . . . after last night.’

I thought about it. I mean, obviously he was projecting far ahead, but his enthusiasm was galvanising.

‘No, I’m teasing,’ I said. ‘I think it’s brilliant. If you’re sure. If you’re sure it’s what you want?’

‘I think it is,’ he said. ‘Don’t panic, I was just lying awake, thinking about my future, that’s all.’

‘I know,’ I said.

He looked at me, over his nearly finished pasta.

‘Actually, forget all that.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘There’s only one thing I want,’ he said. ‘You.’

And I took a final swig of the rough red wine, then we went to bed. And it was sweet, and comfortable, and oddly familiar, and I drifted off to sleep feeling as warm and cosy and safe as I think a girl can living on nothing on the Old Kent Road.

It rained every day that week. I didn’t mind at all. I hurried home every night, and Eck would have something delicious simmering on the stove and we would sit and have dinner and after the second night we had to have the rest of the boys in, because otherwise they would just hover round the kitchen door looking pitiful and starving. The situation with Cal seemed to have settled down - it’s amazing how boys can do that. Square up for a fight then forget all about it. Whereas when girls fall out it’s
omertà
for about two years. Sometimes I wish I was a boy. Cal was annoyed that Eck hadn’t mentioned he could cook.

‘I’ve been living off frozen peas for three years.’

‘Well, I knew if you guys knew I could cook I would have to cook every day, like Sophie has to do the cleaning.’

I smiled weakly. Actually, since I’d moved into Eck’s bed I’d practically stopped doing the cleaning. Nobody seemed to have noticed yet.

Cal tucked into his shepherd’s pie.

‘How’s the polar pixie?’ I asked mischievously.

‘Inga? She’s good, I think.’ He grabbed another piece of bread. Poor Inga. ‘So, Eck, ready for the show?’

Eck shrugged and looked down at the teapot he was holding.

‘Oh, kind of. I don’t know.’

‘What do you mean, “I don’t know ”?’

Cal looked over and explained to me. ‘You realise this is our degree show? Our one chance to get into the West End, to get proper buyers to come and have a look at it? You’re not bamboozling him with hot moves and stopping him working are you?’

‘I am not!’ I said. ‘I think he should be there too!’

‘I’m just not too sure . . .’ mumbled Eck. He’d talk to me about his future, but not to the others. ‘I’m not sure I’m really cut out for trying to pursue an artistic life.’

There was silence round the table.

‘Eck. You’ve been at art school for
three years
,’ said Cal. ‘This is not the time.’

‘I know,’ said Eck. ‘I know.’

‘I mean, this is what all this is for, isn’t it? Our Bohemian lifestyle . . . living like this . . . so we could follow our artistic dreams.’

Eck nodded reluctantly.

‘So why are you here?’ I asked James, who was scarfing down shepherd’s pie like he’d been freezing his arse off on manoeuvres for forty-eight hours while surviving only on packet soup.

‘Saving up for a deposit on a flat,’ said James. ‘Saved me a fortune dossing here.’

‘Oh,’ I said.

‘I want a flat,’ said Eck.

‘You want to be a creative genius lauded throughout the world,’ said Cal.

‘I’d like a new cooker,’ said Eck, looking unhappy.

Cal looked over at me. ‘You’ve done this,’ he said, pointing his knife at me.

‘
Me
?’ I said, stung by the unfairness. ‘How come it was me?’

‘You’ve given him lots of dreams of being able to buy you nice things and stuff.’

‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘That’s why I keep dragging him down Bond Street and standing, sighing in front of Asprey. Shut up, Cal.’

‘It’s not that,’ said Eck. ‘Although it would be nice to have a girlfriend I could take out once in a while.’

‘See,’ said Cal.

After supper, when Eck had headed upstairs and I was following him, Cal waylaid me.

‘I mean it,’ he said.

‘What?’ I said. ‘Take your hands off me, please.’

‘Don’t fuck Eck up. Please.’

‘I’ve got no intentions of fucking anyone up, thank you. Eck is a great guy.’

‘He is,’ said Cal. ‘That’s why I don’t want you to fuck him up.’

I glared at him and shook his arm off. ‘I don’t fuck anyone up, you idiot. That’s you.’

I wasn’t quite sure why I said that. So tired, I suppose, of his troupe of lovesick honeys mooning about at all hours, and still, I suppose, upset that he’d discarded me in the same cavalier fashion.

Cal stood back, as if I’d slapped him.

‘I didn’t . . .’ then he got himself together and shook his head.

‘Well, just . . . Make sure you mean it this time,’ he said, heading off to the kitchen.

‘And what’s
that
supposed to mean?’ I said.

He didn’t answer.

‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘Just another sarcastic remark from our great, bitter artist who thinks anyone not from exactly the same background as he is, is completely worthless and pointless, who believes in the nobility of man but treats women like complete shit. Thanks for the advice, Cal. Thanks.’

Later, I lay in Eck’s bed, still thinking about what Cal had said. It was so unfair! What, I didn’t deserve a nice guy? Because of my class?

‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Eck.

BOOK: Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend

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