My Best Friend Has Issues (20 page)

Go back to Scotchland, that was rich. A week ago I had a valid ticket back to Scotchland. Even after the heart attack I could still have made the flight if I wasn’t so doped up on the medication. The plane ticket had been non-transferable, non-returnable. Three hundred euros down the drain.

The medication wasn’t the only thing that stopped me catching that flight. The opportunity of an all expenses paid education at one of America’s top universities, who wouldn’t be enticed? I’d spent my life watching TV shows where people lived just such an idyllic Californian lifestyle. The irony was that now Chloe would go, and I, who’d subtly sold her the idea, wouldn’t. I’d have to leave Barcelona, leave my nutcase friend, give up my hopes for Berkeley. I’d have to crawl back under my stone; settle for a Cumbernauld lifestyle.

But with such an unstable character as Chloe, how could I have expected things to turn out any different? She was right about one thing: I had to get out of here. We were driving each other crazy. If I stayed we’d end up killing each other. It was a lovely flat and all that, but it wasn’t worth this much grief.

I began packing by attacking the bundle of clean laundry that was stacked on the bedroom chair. For as long as I’d been here there’d always been laundry on that chair, my pants and bras mixed with Chloe’s. I washed her clothes; I wasn’t going to put them away for her. Hers never made it back into the drawers. She just dipped into the bundle whenever she needed clean stuff, taking mine when she ran out of her own. Our clothes had become interchangeable.

Choosing what to take was a confusing task. I sat down on the bed. Another three hundred euros. That would bring the total to thirteen
hundred. How the hell was I going to pay that back? If I didn’t, Chloe would have the moral high ground. There was no way I’d give her that satisfaction. I’d save it up and send it to her. If she refused to accept it I’d come to America and find her and throw it in her face. Then she’d be sorry. She’d have lost the best friend she ever had.

The tin was still at the back of the cupboard. It looked like it hadn’t been touched since the last time I’d opened it. I slid out another three hundred. The last ticket cost more than that. It was three hundred and fifteen. I found a bundle with tens and fives and took one of each. I’d need to get myself and my luggage to the airport but I still had a few journeys left on my metro ticket. I’d manage.

It was still very hot. Down in the bowels of the metro system it was a lot hotter. Humfing my heavy rucksack on and off the
underground
trains might be too much. I could over-exert myself. I didn’t want to have another heart attack while I was stuck in a subway. I might not survive the next one. They didn’t have defibrillation machines down there. It could take them ages to get me out and to the hospital and by then it might be too late. They’d call Chloe and she’d have to identify my body.

My imagination was working overtime. A taxi cost thirty euros. I peeled off another three tens. And I might need a hotel. If I couldn’t get a flight today, I’d need to spend the night somewhere. I didn’t know where there were cheap hostels except in Raval and I wasn’t going there. I had already taken thirteen forty-five, I might as well round it up to fifteen hundred.

I pulled a hundred-euro note out and then another one. I was replacing the smaller notes in their original bundles when I heard a clicking noise.

How long had she been gone? She’d said I had to be out of here by the time she came back. She was going to go ballistic. She might even think I was hanging around hoping she’d changed her mind. She’d think a lot worse if she found me with the tin opened and her money all over the floor.

Chloe had caught me once before in a compromising situation: with Ewan’s equipment in my mouth, or very nearly. And now, unless I could get the money back in the tin and the tin back in
the cupboard before she made it to the bedroom, she was going to catch me again.

I jumped off the bed and scrambled across the floor. It was too late. Chloe burst in and found me shoving bundles of notes back in the tin.

‘I knew it, I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist putting your hand in the cookie jar!’ she squealed.

She was laughing. She seemed to be in excellent spirits. And she was alone.

‘Where’s Juegita and the pups?’ I asked.

‘None of your business. Why are you still in my apartment?’

‘I was just leaving.’

‘No you weren’t,’ she said chirpily.

Chloe flopped down on to the bed. She lay on her stomach and crossed her legs. She propped up her chin with her hand and swung her legs lazily up and down.

‘But actually I’m much more interested to know: why are you stealing my money?’

‘I’m not. I’m…’ What could I say? ‘I wasn’t going to take it all.’

‘I can see that.’

Chloe had found the hundred-euro notes I’d left on the bed and was counting through them with great glee.

‘Three, four, five hundred. Well, well, quite a haul.’

I couldn’t deny it.

‘Keep it,’ she said, lobbing it gently to me where I knelt on the floor, ‘you’ll need it.’

I threw it back at her.

‘I don’t need anything from you.’

‘Oh really? And how are you gonna live? I assume you’re staying on in Barcelona?’

I didn’t say anything.

‘So you’ll need money. You don’t have any of your own money left.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘But Meester Bond,’ said Chloe, affecting an accent, ‘I know everytheeng about you!’

She laughed. She laughed and made eye contact with me, trying to make me laugh. It was a good joke, but I wasn’t giving in.

Chloe rolled to the edge of the bed, pulled out a fat bundle from the tin and, with her arm outstretched, offered it to me.

‘You’re gonna need more than five hundred.’

I put my hands behind my back to indicate my refusal to take it.

‘Now come on, Alison, say you get a room in an apartment for, I don’t know, four fifty. Let’s say five hundred for some place decent, and five hundred deposit. That brings you up to a grand. Even when you start work, it’s gonna be a month before you get paid. You have to eat and probably have to pay for transport.’

‘You don’t even know how much money’s in that tin, do you?’ I asked her.

‘It doesn’t matter. I don’t want you to be short on money. I don’t like to think of you wandering the streets cold and hungry.’

‘Like Juegita and the pups you mean? I’m not your pet Chloe. I can look after myself.’

‘Oh yeah? How? You gonna sell your ass like the girls in Raval? Because honey, you’re not gonna get much.’

This did make me laugh. Not laugh exactly but smile. She was so cheeky. She could never take anything seriously.

‘It’ll be better than staying here with you, you mad bitch.’

‘Hey, did I ask you to stay?’ She was smiling. ‘I don’t want you here.’

She did want me there. Obviously she did. I had to smile.

‘Good, because I’m not staying.’

‘Look, ‘said Chloe, suddenly sounding exasperated, ‘I just want you to take the money and get a room in a decent apartment.’

This confused me.

‘Really?’

‘Yes!’ she was losing her patience now.

‘Chloe, I said some terrible things. I didn’t mean them.’

‘I know.’

‘I’m sorry.’

She nodded but otherwise ignored my attempt to apologise.

‘Maybe you can get somewhere close by,’ she continued. ‘I could help you find a place. We’d be neighbours. Maybe we could visit.’

She did want me out.

‘What about Berkeley?’ I asked.

‘What about it?’

Now wasn’t the time to ask about Berkeley.

Maybe I
could
get a room in a flat. It might rescue our
relationship
. We’d still have all the good times together and none of the disadvantages.

‘Would you like me to live nearby?

‘Yes.’

‘Really?’

‘You know we’re gonna drive each other crazy if we both stay here. It’s better this way. This way we can still be friends.’

‘Okay,’ I said quietly.

‘There’s no rush,’ Chloe said soothingly. ‘We can start looking tomorrow.’

‘Okay,’ I nodded, ‘but there’s something I have to tell you.’

I weighed up the risk I was about to take, but I had to tell her.

‘I’ve already taken money out of here. A thousand euros.’

‘I know.’

‘You know?’ I gasped. ‘How do you know?’

‘Well I didn’t know how much but I knew you had no money left so I figured you had to be getting it outta here. It’s okay.’

‘But why d’you keep it in a tin?’

‘It’s just whatever’s left in my account at the end of the month. I take it out the bank and put it in the tin. If I don’t take it, Aged P just tops up my allowance. Mean bastard. It’s my money.’

Still on my knees on the floor I leaned forwards and grasped her hands.

‘I swear to you I’ll pay you back every penny. We’ve got a second chance and I promise I’ll never lie, I’ll never do anything behind your back again. We’re a team, Chloe. From now on you can rely on me one hundred percent.’

‘Okay, cool. And you can rely on me one hundred per cent too.’

‘Right.’

‘So, just so that I can close the case: the underwear. The Victoria’s Secret panty set. You took ‘em, right?’

I covered my face with my hands.

‘How did you know?

Chloe smiled.

‘Meester Bond, I know everytheeng.’

We spent the rest of the day quietly. Instead of working on her chimney Chloe cleaned the flat. She gave it a very thorough going over. As if all these months I’d been cleaning it, I hadn’t cleaned it properly. As if she was showing me she was going to get along fine without me. I didn’t say anything. For lunch I cooked pasta with a pesto and cream sauce. She said how much she enjoyed it but I wondered if she was just being polite.

‘What did you really do with Juegita and the pups?’ I asked her.

‘They’re with Josep. I gave him fifty to babysit them for the day. It’s kinda nice without them, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘but it’s a bit weird. I miss them.’

‘So do I,’ she agreed.

Later we were out on the terrace watching the sun set over the hills behind the city. The air was cooling and we could hear the evening buzz from the street. Any other night Chloe or I would have suggested going out. Instead we sat in silence, avoiding each other’s glance.

‘Kinda weird atmosphere, huh?’

I didn’t want to hear this but I was forced to nod agreement. Acknowledging the rift between us seemed to make it real and make it worse. Nothing was going to be the same between us ever again.

‘If we were a couple we’d have make up sex,’ joked Chloe.

I lifted my head.

‘We still could,’ I said.

‘I don’t think…’

‘Not with each other, with a boy. We could go out, pick up a boy and have great make up sex. We should do that. I don’t have to stay in bed any more. Why don’t we go out? We haven’t been out on the town for ages.’

‘Are you sure you’re well enough?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘But if we’re gonna find you a new apartment tomorrow…’

‘Oh, right.’

I couldn’t hide my disappointment. I didn’t want to find a new apartment.

‘But hey,’ said Chloe, ‘you’re right; we haven’t had any fun for ages. Maybe that’s what we need.’

This encouraged me.

‘C’mon, let’s do somewhere nice for dinner and see if we can find a nice looking young man.’

‘Yeah, but you always say that. You’re always hot to trot and then you don’t do anything.’

‘I wasn’t ready. I am now. I admit it; I’ve been a bit slow on the uptake. Remember Chloe, I’m from Cumbernauld, I’m not used to good things coming my way, I’ve missed too many opportunities. I almost died a week ago. I hadn’t planned on dying a virgin. From now on I take every chance for experience and pleasure that comes my way.’

‘Okay,’ she said, ‘we could go out tonight, see what happens.’

‘Okay.’

Later, as she applied her mascara Chloe said, ‘You know, you don’t have to find an apartment tomorrow. We could leave it a few days. There’s no rush.’

I smiled.

‘Chuh. Sex with each other,’ I scoffed, ‘as if.’

Never had sausage and beans tasted so good. The restaurant was lovely, a Catalan place where they served the best
butifarra
and
habias
in Barcelona. I felt so relaxed, enjoying the calm after the storm. I no longer had to worry about the money I’d taken, or the underwear, or anything. Everything was sorted now.

‘Wine?’ said Chloe with the expensive bottle hovering over my glass.

‘I don’t know if I should.’

‘It’s red, good for your heart.’

‘Oh, go on then,’ I said holding out my glass.

Chloe tipped the bottle almost upside down and let the wine gush into my outsized glass.

‘Yeah Chloe, a
glass
of wine, not half a litre.’

We both laughed. I tasted a sip and then a mouthful. I hadn’t had a drink in more than a week. It tasted wonderful.

I felt fine. It was hard to believe that a week ago I’d suffered a heart attack. But I was young and, as Dr Collins had once said, had a tremendous life force. I’d made a terrific recovery from the glandular fever, so long as I took it easy my heart would be fine. A drop of wine, quality wine like this, would probably do me the world of good.

‘Damn, this wine is good,’ said Chloe, swigging a mouthful and wiping
butifarra
grease from her mouth with the back of her hand.

I had to smile. The concept of moderation simply did not exist for Chloe.

‘What?’

‘You’ll never grow up, will you?’

‘What does that mean?’ she said, mock-offended.

‘You’ll always be crazy, extravagant, hopelessly impractical, wildly generous, and fucking infuriating.’

‘I hope so,’ she said and winked.

‘Here’s to the best flatmate ever,’ I said, ceremoniously raising my glass. ‘To Chloe: mad, bad and dangerous to know!’

‘Quite an accolade, I thank you. To Chloe,’ she said, toasting herself, ‘Cheers!’

We clinked glasses and glugged down the wine but we didn’t look each other in the eye the way we usually did, both
embarrassed
by my slip into such naked sentimentality.

The conversation moved on. Chloe told me she’d finally tracked down a craftsman who would make the ceramic crowns she’d designed for her chimney project. She was very excited about it and I let her chatter. I was relieved that the bitter rowing was now forgotten, sluiced away by the wine.

‘Oh yeah, but the Aged P had to have something to say about it. He’s going crazy saying he won’t pay for them because I can’t take ‘em with me back to California.’

It was interesting that when she talked of returning to California she said can’t take them with
me
instead of can’t take them with
us
, but I didn’t say anything.

‘I don’t remember that, when did he say that?’

‘When I spoke to him yesterday. You were asleep.’

I wasn’t quick enough to hide my disappointment; when Philip called, I usually answered Chloe’s phone. Chloe left it unanswered if I was asleep. She hadn’t even mentioned he’d called until now. This was the way things were going. I was out of the loop.

‘He called yesterday to inform me of his state visit.’

‘State visit? You mean he’s coming here?’

‘Yeah, unfortunately. He’s gonna be in town on business,’ said Chloe, between mouthfuls of beans. ‘Only for two days, thank God, just passing through. He wants to meet you.’

‘Really? Tell me,’ I said, ‘What does he look like?’

‘Huh? Whaddaya wanna know that for?’

‘Well, you have loads of photographs around the flat of your mum but I haven’t seen any of your dad. I’ve spoken to him so many times now, I feel like I know him but I’ve no idea…’

‘You
don’t
know him.’

‘No, of course but…’

‘Yeah, you like old Phil, don’t you?’ she said in a teasing voice.

‘He seems very nice,’ I said carefully.

We both loaded our forks and filled our mouths. Time out while we chewed this one over.

‘S’pose it’s natural,’ said Chloe, breaking the silence. ‘You probably miss your own dad, don’t you?’

‘Not really.’

‘Why not? Weren’t you a kid when he died?’

‘Yeah, but he was never around much anyway. He worked on the oil rigs, for an American company. He earned good money but he was away most of the time. The only time I spent any time with him was after his heart attack.’

‘Didn’t you say he died of a heart attack?’

‘Yeah, but not the first time. It was a minor one, a warning. He got sent home from the rigs on sick leave during Christmas holidays; Mum was at the bakery so I was at home all day with him, but we didn’t really speak. We didn’t have anything to talk about.’

‘That’s tough.’

‘Not really. I hardly knew him. We’d never done the father and daughter bonding thing. He’d always worked on the rigs since before I was born. I never understood the way girls at school were so in love with their dads.’

‘Yeeesh, daughters and dads, it’s disgusting. It was the same at my school. I know what you mean.’

‘No, I don’t think you do.’

Chloe stopped with her fork halfway to her mouth. ‘Oh yeah? What don’t I know?’

‘That I killed him.’

‘You didn’t kill your dad. How could you kill your dad? You were just a kid. What were you, fourteen?’

‘I was thirteen and okay, I didn’t directly kill him, but it was my fault he died.’

‘Shut up! This I’ve got to hear. What happened?’

‘I’ve never told anyone. Before he died he made me promise not to. I couldn’t talk about it, I had a kind of mental block. Eventually people stopped asking me.’

Well, I’m asking,’ she said gently, ‘if you want to tell me.’

I found that I did want to tell her. I’d told her all the other stuff, about Bashed Head Boy and nearly doing it with Wanca in front of people. Even when I admitted I’d taken the money and the underwear, Chloe was fine about it.

‘Okay, well, first of all, Mum and Dad didn’t get on. That’s probably why he worked on the rigs. It was all long silences and bad atmospheres between them. You know the way.’

‘Oh yeah, I know it.’

‘But when he came home for such a long time on sick leave they just fought constantly. I was sick of it. My brothers were out playing football most of the time so they hardly noticed the arguments but I didn’t go out much. I was stuck trying to watch
Coronation Street
while my parents had whispered rows in the kitchen. One night I couldn’t stand the tension any more and asked if I could go out. There was a youth club in Abronhill. I didn’t have a friend to go with but I decided that I’d go alone, it was better than watching them glare at each other.

Mum asked Dad to drive me to the youth club; it was a cold night and the club was on the other side of Cumbernauld. At first he refused but then when he heard it was in Abronhill he changed his mind. All the way there in the car, he never spoke to me once.

He was sending texts on his phone. Instead of watching the road he kept sending texts, and then reading the replies. I was scared. I offered to type the text in for him, but he ignored me. I asked him to stop. I pleaded with him. I was scared he was going to crash. I knew it was going to happen, I just felt it. It was a horrible feeling, as if I was seeing it before it happened. And it did happen!’

‘He crashed?’

‘Yes! He crashed the car down an embankment.’

‘But I thought he died of a heart attack.’

‘He did. He had terrible injuries but the doctor said he’d have survived if his heart hadn’t given out.’

‘What happened to you?’

‘Broken arm and punctured lung. Not much considering the car fell thirty feet. The newspaper said it was a miracle. But he died before the fire brigade could get to us.’

‘Oh honey, it must have been awful.’

‘It was cold. And heavy. He was trapped on top of me. A twig from a tree branch was stuck in his right eyeball. The liquid from inside his eye was dripping on me, on my face.’

‘Oh,’ said Chloe, putting down her cutlery, ‘gross.’

‘Before he died he was crying and pleading with me not to tell Mum. He said it had to be secret.’

‘I would’ve definitely told my mom. Reading stupid text messages while he was driving? No wonder he crashed. It wasn’t your fault, Alison, you didn’t kill him.’

‘No, that’s not what I meant.’

‘Stupid bastard, he had his kid in the car, he could have gotten you both killed!’

‘No,’ I laughed, ‘sorry. I’m getting the story all mixed up now. We’ve jumped ahead. He didn’t crash while he was texting, it was later, on the way back, after the youth club. That wasn’t the secret.’

‘Well what the hell was? Stop teasing me and get to the point. What’s the big secret, Alison?’

‘Buy a flower for the lady?’

A young Asian guy stood at our table. He held out a large bunch of roses and grinned at me.

‘
Hola
, Esmerelda!’ he said.

‘
Hola
, Sanj,’ I replied.

For a moment I thought Ewan had sent him. Sending flowers to apologise for what he’d told Charlie. But how did Sanj know to find me here? Then I realised it was just a coincidence. The flowers weren’t from Ewan. Sanj was selling them to loved-up, splatter-cash tourists.

‘Please to see you
otra vez
, Esmerelda.’

‘You too, Sanj,’ I smiled. I’d forgotten what a nice guy he was.

‘You two know each other?’ said Chloe.

She was smiling, oozing charm towards Sanj but I could tell she was annoyed. This was a friend of mine that she had never met and knew nothing about.

‘Esmerelda?’ she said pointedly.

‘Eyes,’ I said, my finger pointing to my eyes. ‘Esmerelda because they’re…’

‘Green. Yeah, I got that. What I don’t get is why you’re not introducing me.’

‘Sorry. Chloe, this is Sanj. He’s a flower seller…’

‘Evidently,’ she said with a gracious nod towards Sanj’s massive bouquet.

‘And a friend of Ewan’s. Sanj, this is Chloe, my flatmate and very good friend.’

We were still flatmates.

‘Please to meet you,’ said Sanj.

‘
Encantado
,’ Chloe replied.

After the introductions there was an awkward moment when we all ran out of things to say. Chloe smiled up at Sanj and he smiled down at us. I’d already mentioned Ewan. I wasn’t going to do it again. I wasn’t going to ask after his health. Sanj rescued us by enquiring after my health, specifically my cough.

‘Oh yeah, it’s totally gone,’ I reassured him. I didn’t mention my heart attack.

‘I’d like a rose for my friend, please Sanj,’ Chloe said, stretching down to find her handbag under the table.

‘
Por favor, un regalo
,’ he said, choosing the best roses and handing us one each. He refused to take the money.

‘Thank you, Sanj, you’re very kind,’ Chloe smirked, ‘but you won’t do good business if you give your roses away every time you see a pretty lady.’

Sanj’s English wasn’t really up to a reply so he switched to Spanish, the gist of which was that there weren’t two ladies in Barcelona as pretty as us.

‘Your friend’s a charmer,’ said Chloe, trying to sound cynical, but I could see that Sanj had already charmed the pants off her. It wasn’t only what he said, which sounded pretty cheesy to me, it was that it was in Spanish. Chloe always preferred when we were chatting to boys that she did all the talking. I was always her dumb friend.

Sanj apologised for interrupting our meal, excused himself and went round the other tables.

Chloe’s eyes followed him. ‘Impeccable manners,’ she said, ‘I like that, and so good looking. You kept quiet about him, you sly dog.’

‘I’m sure I told you about Ewan’s friend, Sanj.’

‘Whatever, I don’t remember. Anyhoo, I think we’ve found our guy for tonight.’

‘Chloe, no. Not him, he’s a friend.’

‘What’s wrong with getting a little friendlier? It’s kinda romantic, him selling flowers and all. It suits him. He looks like a sensitive guy. His place is probably full of flowers.

‘He’s a vendor. His place is more likely to be full of drugs.’

‘Yeah,’ she said, ignoring me, carried away by her idea, ‘and his bed’s probably filled with fragrant rose petals, dark red ones.’

I rolled my eyes.

‘What? It’s my artistic temperament. That and I’ve never had an Asian guy go down on me.’

This had us both hooting with laughter. Sanj heard us and looked over, smiling his big innocent smile. I felt sorry for him. He had no idea what he was in for. While Chloe signed off the bill and tipped the waiter I had one last stab at putting her off.

‘Don’t be fooled by those big liquid eyes. He’s a gangster.’

‘No way. He’s too cute.’

‘I’m telling you. His uncle runs all the drug vendors in the city.’

‘Wow! How cool is that? I’ve always wanted to be connected. I think I’d make a great gangster’s moll.’

‘I don’t really think Sanj wants us to go back to his place. He’s not like that, he’s a really nice boy.’

‘Oh, I’m pretty sure he wants us. He’s an eager little beaver. Here he comes.’

Chloe welcomed him back in Spanish. I realised that apart from his tourist sales pitch Sanj didn’t speak English but he was kind enough to include me in his smiles. I pretty much knew the script anyway. Chloe did her usual ear-whispering thing. She always pressed her breasts against their arm and her lips to their cheek and ear, but lightly, light as a kiss. I heard her say the word
cocaina
.

‘
Aqui no, lo siento
,’ Sanj whispered.

There was no need for apologies. That was exactly what Chloe wanted to hear.

When she suggested going back to his place, Sanj demurred. I didn’t look directly at Chloe. I didn’t want her to think I was being superior. Clearly embarrassed, Sanj said he had to sell his flowers before he could go home for the night. He’d promised Tio Mahmood, his uncle, he’d sell them all. He was emphatic about this.

‘
En este caso, quiero comprar todas las floras
,’ Chloe said expansively.

Sanj appeared not to understand and stood grinning.

‘Chloe, buying his flowers is like buying him. He’s a friend, it’s not right. We can go to a club and find Latino guys for free.’