The Debt & the Doormat (35 page)

‘Victor, I really can't hear you.’

‘Can you hear me now?’ he asks.

‘Yes!  I can hear you now.’

‘Thank God.  My driver’s car has broken down.  Tell them to hold the flight.  I’ll be there soon.’

‘But – ‘

The phone’s already gone dead. 

OK, don't panic.  I’m sure they’ll hold a flight for a totally deranged mad man.  It's only 2.30pm, there’s hours yet.  My phone rings again, flashing up with ‘Jazz’.

‘Hello?’

‘Hey Pops.  So your brother’s a total dick.  I hate him!  You’ll never guess what happened last night.’

‘Last night?’

‘Yeah, we went to Leicester, remember?’

‘No, not really?  Look, Jazz this really isn’t a good time.  Can I call you later?’

‘I suppose,’ she sighs.  ‘OK, love you.’

‘Love you too.’

I hang up and turn round, walking towards the Starbucks area, eager to get another tea.  Swarms of people are walking out of it very quickly with slightly alarmed expressions on their faces.

‘What's going on?’ I ask, grabbing a ladies arm as she walks past me.

‘There’s a bomb scare,’ she says, looking down at her arm which I’m still gripping tightly onto.

‘You’re joking?’

‘No.  Apparently there’s an abandoned bag.  Airport security are checking it out now.’

‘God, that's horrible.’

‘I know.  They’re evacuating the airport.’  She throws off my hand and walks briskly off in the other direction.

A loud female voice comes from the tannoy.

‘Evacuation.  If everyone could please evacuate the airport immediately.  Please remain calm.’

People start running and screaming, dragging their children along with them.  This is awful.  I wonder if I’ll be on the news.  I take a deep breath, ignoring my sudden need to have a wee, and make my way towards my nearest exit, elbowing people out of the way.  As I pass the Starbucks area I take a deep breath.  It's probably nothing.  Just get out of here as quickly as possible.  I can't help myself sneaking a glance towards the drama.

Policemen in black uniforms are stood back, speaking into their radios.  A man in a big kind of space suit is walking slowly towards a handbag on the table.  That's funny, because it kind of looks like...

Oh my God.  My body goes numb, but I try and regain feeling of my shoulders.  Is there a handbag on them?  I lift my hand up to my shoulders and as suspected there’s no handbag hanging on them.  That's my handbag.  I’ve caused a terror alert.

Shit shit shit.

I walk over to the nearest policeman, wondering what on earth I’m going to say.

‘You can't go in there miss.  If you could please evacuate.’

‘No, but I just need to get  - ‘

‘I’m afraid you’ll have to get your coffee from somewhere else, now if you could please just leave the building.’

Maybe I should just go and leave it here.  It’d be a hell of a lot easier.  But what about Victor?  He’ll be here any moment and his passport is in that bag.  And so is my purse with my driving licence. 

Just take a deep breath. 

‘It's my bag,’ I say quietly, not even wanting to admit it aloud.

‘Sorry?’ he asks seriously.  ‘I didn’t hear you miss.  Do you have some information on this terrorist attack?’

I wish he’d stop calling it a terrorist attack.  It clearly isn’t.

‘Yes, it's my handbag, OK!  I left it there by accident.’

‘What?’  He looks at me completely perplexed.  ‘That is your handbag?’

‘Yes!’ I shout, tears threatening to break behind my eyes. 

‘Boys!’ the policemen yells.  ‘We’ve got another one.  Dozy mare left her handbag.  There’s nothing in it.’

They all release their tense stances and the guy in the space suit grabs my bag, emptying the contents on the table.

‘Yep,’ he shouts over, removing his helmet.  ‘Just a loud of make-up and shit.  And apparently she’s got thrush.’

What a bastard!  I should really remove that cream from my bag.

‘You know I could arrest you for wasting police time,’ the policeman says to me.

‘What?  I only left it for a second.  Please, be reasonable!’ I plead, sweat trickling down my forehead.

‘I dunno.  What you think boys?’ he asks, smiling wickedly at them.

‘If anything at least now you know how you’d handle something like this.  And I must say, you guys have done a great job.’  I smile sweetly.

‘Well, thanks,’ he gushes.  ‘I suppose, we can let you off.’

Thank God. 

*
                            *                            *

When I get home I’m so hot and flustered I don't know what to do first; have a drink, strip off or just pass out.  I can't believe the unpredictable weather.  It's sooo hot this afternoon.  Sweat drips from my upper lip, my cleavage and the hair at the back of my neck.  Gross.  My hands are swollen, the veins in them raised to resemble a tube map.

I run to my bedroom and peel off my shoes and then my clothes, stuck to me as the strangers on the tube had been.  I throw myself on the bed in just my bra and knickers, too tired to think clearly.  Water.  That's what I need – lots and lots of water.

‘Pops?’ Izzy calls, sounding like her usual ball of energy.

I take a deep breath and drag myself up, stumbling into the kitchen, not bothering to put anything over my bra and knickers.  I’m frankly too hot to care.  Jazz, Izzy and Grace are buzzing around in nothing but their bikinis.  Jazz has on a yellow string bikini with pink polka dots and wears a matching giant yellow flower in her hair.  Izzy has a pink stripy sporty one with matching flip flops.  Grace has a red and gold bikini which squeezes her breasts tightly together and it matches her lipstick.

‘Hey Pops,’ Jazz says, ‘strawberry margarita?’

She shoves a load of ingredients in the blender with a bagful of ice and starts blending.  I steal a cube from the bag and put it against my wrists, then the back of my hair.  Oh yeah, that's good. 

‘What you doing here?’ I ask, too hot to be diplomatic.

‘Nice to see you too!’ she scoffs.

‘Well?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?’  She looks at me as if I’m mad.  She looks to Izzy and they both smile knowingly.

‘Margarita party!’ they both chime.

Are they serious?  Margarita party?  Do they think this is a sorority house like in one of those American universities?  They have clearly been watching too much TV.

‘I’m not sure if I could drink it.  It's too bloody hot,’ I complain.

I’m so hot, it's hard to even talk to her, or stay conscious, let alone get smashed. 

‘Stop being a pussy,’ she snaps.  ‘I’ve bought your bikini.’  She goes to a carrier bag and presents a jewelled green bikini that I’ve never seen before.

‘That's mine?’

‘Well, it is now,’ she says, her eyes lighting up, as they always do, when shopping is involved. 

‘You went shopping!’  I say accusingly.

I can't believe her!  How can she be so irresponsible?  Five grand in debt and she’s acting like she owes me a fiver.

‘Chill!  It's only Primark.’  She hands it over to me and I inspect it.  It is beautiful and the padding around the bust is amazing.  I’m talking proper hard-core padding. 

‘Jazz!  It says La Senza!’

Jazz and Izzy giggle at each other.

‘I told you we should have cut the label out,’ Izzy giggles.

‘Well I just thought you’d appreciate the padding,’ Jazz says, pointing towards my chest.

Grace flicks her hair around to glance at my boobs, and sniggers cruelly.

‘Look.  Just try it on,’ Jazz demands.  ‘If you like it keep it.  OK?’

‘OK.  I suppose trying it on can't hurt.’

My God!  I can't believe how a bikini can transform your figure so much.  My small boobs are now bulging bouncy bosoms and the bottoms are cut such a way that my legs look a lot longer and more slender than they are.

I walk into the garden feeling strong and confident.  Jazz and Izzy turn around, dipping their sunglasses and wolf whistling.  I know it's silly and childish but I do a little bow and spin, pleased by the attention.  I join them on one of the towels they’ve laid out on a tiny bit of concrete.

They really need to clear this garden up.  It's a mess.  Completely overgrown grass up to my knees, with ferns and weeds running amok.  The four of us are squeezed on to the tiny bit of concrete.  It's pathetic.  If I had a garden like this I’d really turn it around.

‘Have you ever considered cleaning up this garden?’

Grace ignores me as usual, but Izzy looks up, a demented excited smile on her face.

‘Oh God!’ Jazz sighs, dipping her sunglasses so she can roll her eyes.  ‘Don't get Izzy started.’

I stare at Izzy confused. 

‘I’ve been wanting to get it cleaned up for ages but these guys won't help me!’ she explains.

‘Lazy cow!’  I hit Jazz playfully on the shoulder.  ‘Why don't we do it this weekend?’

‘Sweet!’ Izzy squeals.  ‘It's a date.’

‘And Jazz, you’re helping.’

‘Ugh!  Fine!’  She rolls over to her front and I just about make out her saying ‘Hitler’s taken over’ under her breath.

‘Where’s Ryan anyway?’ I ask.

Grace looks up at the mention of his name. 

‘He’s shopping,’ she says, smirking at the thought of knowing more than me about him.

‘Yep.  He hates the heat,’ Izzy adds as she leans back, basking in the sun.

‘I know how he feels.’  I down my strawberry margarita and apply more factor thirty.

The faint sound of the door knocking stops me from applying another layer.  Everyone pretends like they haven’t heard it so I jump up to get it.  It’s only when I open the door and see Big Tits Tabitha on the doorstep that I remember I’m only in a bikini.  Something about having a massive pair of fake tits thrust in your face makes you remember that yours are the size of an average twelve year olds.   

‘Tabitha!  Hi, come in’ I say, my voice squeaky and fake.

She’s dressed in a pink and white summer dress, her breasts heaving over it.  She must be boiling.

‘Hi!  Poppy, isn’t it?’

‘Yep, that's me.’  Just Ryan’s housemate Poppy.

‘Is he in?’ she ask, barging past me into the kitchen, pouting her lips all the way.  I wonder if she’s had those lip injection things.  They look huge.  They look like blow job lips.  Slag.

‘He’s out at the moment, but he’ll be back soon.’  I smile and sit at the kitchen table.  I grab a newspaper, hoping she won't engage me in conversation.

‘Can you show me where his bedroom is?’

His bedroom?  I look up at her in disbelief. 

‘Sorry...what?’

‘Well, he’s been holding out on me in the bedroom department, probably too much of a gentlemen.  So I thought that I should show him how much I want him, if you know what I mean.’  She reaches beneath her dress and exposes her neon pink bra at me.

Oh I think I know what you mean, you slag.

‘So, could you tell me where his bedroom is?’  She gets her bag and walks towards the door. 

Oh my God.  This tramp is trying to bed him.  I spent all my energy telling him to wait, but never did I think that she’d force herself on him.  And he’s a red blooded male.  Of course he’s going to say yes.  They’re going to have sex upstairs...while I’m in the house!  I’ll be able to hear the springs creaking and the headboard knocking.  And then it will really be game over. 

‘No!’ I protest, my voice a squeak. 

She stops and turns towards me.  I think she’s trying to crease her forehead, but she’s had so much Botox I can't make out any lines of real expression.

‘Sorry?  No?’  She narrows her eyes at me.  She’s clearly not used to being told what to do.

‘I mean…not
no
…but...you just can’t.’  Every muscle in my body is tightening.  Please don't sleep with him I want to plead. 

‘Sorry, but why can’t I?’  Her tone has quickly changed to one that someone doesn’t argue with. 

‘Because...because...’  I can feel the sweat on my upper lip as my mind races.  Why can't she?  Think Poppy, think!

‘Because what?’  She puts her hand on her hip and leans in, as if to challenge me.

‘Because...he’s...gay!’ 

Oh dear, what the hell have I done.

‘He’s...gay?  He’s
gay
?  What are you talking about?’ she demands, her face getting red with distress.

Gay must just be on my mind from my date with Lewis.

‘Well, he’s very...confused at the moment.  He knows he should like women, but...whenever he looks at my poster of Jared Leto he just...melts.’ 

Oh God, I can’t stop this crap from spilling out of my mouth.