Read Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend Online
Authors: Jenny Colgan
Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend (9 page)
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After what seemed like an age, the boys filed through into the kitchen. Cal looked snotty, Eck embarrassed, Wolverine . . . well, hungry, probably.
‘Here’s the thing,’ said Eck, staring at the floor, ‘Cal thinks—’
‘We all think,’ interrupted Cal.
‘. . . that one way we could get round the fact that you don’t have enough money—’
‘But Eck would like you to live here . . .’ Cal’s lip curled up. Eck stopped momentarily and shot Cal a dirty look.
‘One way might be if you helped—’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, spit it out,’ said Cal. ‘Listen. If you want to stop me putting Wolverine in that room—’
‘You won’t,’ said Eck. They shot looks at one another and I wondered how well they actually got on. Cal took over the conversation.
‘You need to make up for not paying your share of the deposit.’
I couldn’t quite concentrate, but it sounded like they were going to let me stay. That was a good thing, despite the state of the place.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you can see the state of this place.’
I could.
‘If you could look after it for us, we could forget the deposit.’
Nooo!
I looked at Eck. He shot me a hopeful glance.
‘What do you mean, “look after it”?’ I said, in case they meant, take nice long lovely baths here.
Eck rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Well, you know. Do the hoovering. Scrubbing. Cleaning up mostly. We’re usually too busy.’
Too busy? That wouldn’t be the student life I remembered then.
‘But we’d all chip in to pay your deposit so you could stay.’ He looked awkward again. ‘Will you have money coming in after that?’
‘Of course,’ I assured him.
There was a silence. For the last time, just in case I’d got it wrong I said, ‘So you’re saying I can stay if I clean?’
The boys glanced at each other, then Eck nodded. Oh great. So not only was I going to have to live in a germ sanctuary, I was going to have to clean it too.
‘Isn’t this a bit sexist?’ I said.
‘No,’ said Cal. ‘It’s poor-ist.’
‘Sorry,’ said Eck. ‘But we were trying to find a solution . . .’
I looked for my positive side again. It was fleeing for the exit, but I grasped it manfully.
‘Absolutely,’ I said. ‘You’re on!’
‘Great,’ said Eck, looking relieved. ‘Cup of tea to celebrate? ’
We looked at each other.
‘I’ll just go get my things, I think.’
‘Yeah,’ said Eck. ‘OK.’
Chapter Seven
Of course, I didn’t know what to pack.
Vogue
hadn’t done an article on ‘Capsule Wardrobes for Your New Shit Life’. If I was thinking logically, Wellington boots, three hundred jumpers and a hazmat suit.
Vogue
hadn’t done an article on ‘Capsule Wardrobes for Your New Shit Life’. If I was thinking logically, Wellington boots, three hundred jumpers and a hazmat suit.
I gazed at my wardrobe. It was arranged by colour so that shades segued into one another. I loved it. There was the raspberry Temperley silk dress I’d worn to Theo’s twenty-first, which ended up in the fountain. In fact I couldn’t have worn it more than once, but it had been a good, fun, dress and only about seven hundred quid, I seemed to recall. Christ. Maybe I could sell the dress? But I could see the heavy water stains the dry cleaner’s hadn’t been able to get out from here. Maybe not.
Oh, and that lovely pale green chiffon. I’d loved it to bits till a famous WAG had worn the exact same one ten days later and I’d had to abandon it for ever. So sad. Oh, bollocks, I was packing it anyway.
Gail eyed up my bags in the hall. She’d been fluttering around apologetically - but not apologetically enough to say, ‘Do you know what, Sophie, I’ve changed my mind and in fact why don’t we convert the basement into a crash pad for you and you stay there for six months and we’ll say that that was probably what Daddy meant in his will.’
‘It’s just clothes,’ I said, in case she thought I was stuffing oil paintings into the lining. ‘And I had to put them in the Louis Vuittons, there aren’t any other suitcases.’
‘Good luck,’ she said, smiling nervously. ‘I couldn’t wait to leave home. It was the most exciting day of my life.’
I stared at her.
‘I realise this isn’t the same.’
‘It’s not the same at all,’ I said, miserably.
‘But your dad thought you could do it,’ said Gail. ‘And, you know . . . I reckon you’ll be stubborn enough to make a go of anything.’
This is probably about the nicest thought Gail’s ever had about me.
‘Yeah, thanks,’ I said, a bit ungracefully, but I was really shocked. She moved towards me then, and I thought she might be about to give me a hug, but at the last minute something in both of us stopped it happening.
We could probably both have done with it though.
Now came the really hard part. I tiptoed downstairs and whispered her name.
‘Esperanza?’
She came out of the kitchen, drying her hands and looking fearful.
‘Miss?’
I twisted my hair awkwardly.
‘Esperanza, you know I’m leaving.’
Her face gave nothing away. I couldn’t tell if she was pleased or sad. Probably best not to know. I wondered how I would have felt if Esperanza had left one day and never come back? Would I even have noticed?
I felt really ashamed of myself.
‘So, em. I wondered. Where I’m going . . . I’m going to need to do some cleaning. You know, look after things. And I wondered if you could help . . . show me what to do.’
At first she looked like she didn’t quite believe it. Then her whole face crumpled - but with delight.
‘Miss Sophie! You need me to show you what to do? You want my help?’
‘Yes,’ I said, finding myself blush.
‘But of course Esperanza can help you! Come with me.’ And she grabbed me by the hand like I was four years old and dragged me into the kitchen. As she did so, I had a sudden sense memory of her hand on my arm. But as far as I could recall she’d never touched me before. Yet there was certainly something very familiar about her touch.
‘When you were small,’ she said, ‘you used to love to help Esperanza. Always when I was working you would come downstairs. “What doing, Espraza?” all day long. I had to give you your own duster and brush.’
That couldn’t be true, could it?
‘Then you went to school, and after that, pffff. You don’t want to help Esperanza any more. You want to buy shoes.’
‘I do like shoes,’ I said, as Esperanza opened a large cupboard I’d never been into before. There were rows of cleaning materials lined up neatly - bleaches and sprays and powders, each with corresponding cloths and buckets.
We went through everything. It took hours, but it wasn’t like I had anything else to do. How to clean mirrors without streaking them. How to remove limescale (when I thought of the flat on the Old Kent Road, my heart sank. The only way to remove their limescale would be a medium-range nuclear missile). How to empty the Hoover. By the end of it I was grubby and exhausted. We collapsed down to share a pot of builder’s tea. Esperanza fussed over me and chatted and was so completely unlike herself I couldn’t believe who I was talking to. She told me about her daughter in Guatemala - who was about my age, which, I realised, meant that all these years Esperanza was looking after our family, she hadn’t been looking after her own. I couldn’t believe I’d never really thought about that.
‘She’s teacher now,’ said Esperanza proudly. ‘I send home all my money from here and she goes to school and now she’s teacher.’
I was genuinely impressed. Maybe if I’d gone and done something useful like be a teacher I wouldn’t be here right now . . . Oh, who was I kidding? I didn’t have anything like the patience and dedication. Plus, I thought ruefully, I’d spent my life dealing with kids anyway, everyone I knew had a mental age of about eight and a half.
I had to go. I’d packed my suitcases. I’d learned a couple of useful things. I wandered up one last time to look at my dad’s room. There was no trace now, nothing left at all. I wondered how long it would be before Gail redecorated, and every last bit of him would be gone. I wondered what she was doing with all his Jermyn Street suits - he liked going to get tailored, used to take me with him. The tailors would give me lollipops and warn me sternly against playing with pins. I played with the pins anyway and my dad laughed, ruffled my hair and told me I had a taste for danger.
I hadn’t. But it felt like I no longer had a choice.
‘I think I’ll see you soon,’ I said to Esperanza. ‘And . . . I know I’ve never . . .’ Suddenly I found it hard to get the words out. ‘I know I’ve never said it. Not properly,’ I said. My bottom lip was wobbling a bit. ‘But . . . thank you.’
Esperanza clasped me to her large bosom and gave me a huge hug.
‘There you are,’ she said. ‘That’s all you ever had to say.’
If I thought the Old Kent Road looked bad in morning light, it wasn’t in the least bit improved by a dank, heavy overcast day.
I wondered if any of the boys were going to come out and help me up with my luggage. I gave them a good couple of minutes at the bottom of the path, but no dice. Maybe they weren’t going to do anything until the cheque cleared. Or they’d been brought up in barns. That was certainly true of Wolverine, at least. So I lugged both the cases up myself, hurling them over the mattress, and heaved them to the end of the little dark corridor.
The room hadn’t magically expanded, Tardis-like, since I’d been away. Neither was it filled with fresh welcoming flowers and a bottle of champagne.
I reckon flat sharing definitely needs an image overhaul. They should call it boutique living, something like that. Like a Manhattan hotel room - yes, this is a tiny cupboard with a view of a brick wall. But, hey, let us distract you by putting eleven pillows on the bed! Something like that. The broken, crappy wardrobe would take about three minidresses and no more. I pushed an entire suitcase under the bed immediately; it could support the broken springs.
The house was silent. Then I sat down on the bed and wondered what to do next. My nose prickled with the dust as I noticed a piece of paper on the floor that had obviously been pushed underneath the door.
Please,
it said hopefully at the top,
it said hopefully at the top,
clean toilet
and bathroom
and kitchen
and window’s
I tutted to myself about the spare apostrophe
and floor’s.
Thank you.
It didn’t say how often they required these things done. Once a week? Daily? And did floors include the floors of their bedrooms? I decided immediately that it didn’t. I had no intention of entering any of these trolls’ rooms.
Esperanza had sent me away with a care package of her favourite cleaning products. Like a goodie bag, I supposed, only much, much shitter.
In lieu of a single thing to do or, I gulped, a single person in the world even knowing where I was - I supposed my mobile phone still worked, I didn’t bother checking it any more. Everyone had stopped phoning. Actually, I wondered about that - Daddy had always just taken care of the bill. Maybe that would stop too. I checked the phone. Sure enough, it said, ‘This number is not in service’. Shit. I’d never even got my own phone before. It had always come in through Daddy’s office. I sat down on the bed. I wouldn’t cry. I wouldn’t cry. I wouldn’t, wouldn’t, wouldn’t cry.
I pulled on a pair of Juicy sweatpants that I normally would never wear if I wasn’t on my way to Pilates (little did I know then how much I was about to start living in them) and a C&C T-shirt. I would just have to treat it as my workout, that was all. Put some loud music on and pretend it was the hot new thing, like when everyone tried to pretend that pole dancing was a workout.
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