The Debt & the Doormat(56)

‘Of course,’ he smiles. ‘I’ve had a great time.’

‘Me too,’ I smile back.

And the truth is that I have had a great time. So what if Neville isn’t Brad Pitt? So what if I don't fancy him one little bit? I still had a great time. He’s really funny when he’s relaxed. We spent half the lunch taking the piss out of everyone else in the restaurant. To be honest, I feel like I needed someone to adore me for an hour. It seems so long since anyone really gave a shit. I just hope he realises we’re better off as friends.

The waitress walks over to get the cheque and fiddles around with the card machine when he asks the question I’ve been dreading.

‘So...do you fancy doing this again?’

Oh dear. How do I tackle this one? Carefully I think. Very carefully.

The waitress says something under her breath in a foreign language and laughs to herself. God knows what it was, but Neville’s back immediately goes up.

‘How dare you!’ Neville shouts.

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ the waitress says, taken aback. ‘I didn’t realise you spoke Portuguese.’

‘Yes, well that's very clear,’ Neville says, still furious. ‘Perhaps next time you should think before you speak.’

‘I’m...I’m really sorry,’ she stammers. ‘It's just that...well, I just don't see it with you two.’

She looks at me and then at Neville and laughs again to herself. How dare this woman judge us!? And poor Neville looks so embarrassed, his cheeks practically puce.

‘Well, maybe you should look a bit closer,’ I say getting up abruptly. I drag Nevile up and tuck his arm into mine. ‘Come on Neville.’

He smiles at me in wonder and amazement, before smiling triumphantly at the waitress.

‘Well, good day to you,’ he says.

He leads me towards the door but stops midway. I look at him confused.

‘I forgot to leave a tip,’ he says apologetically.

‘Tip? Are you crazy? Come on, you’re ruining our great walk out.’ I drag him towards the door before he can change his mind.

The minute we’re on the pavement we both collapse in helpless laughter.

‘That was the best lunch I’ve had in ages,’ he says, smiling warmly.

‘Um...thanks.’

* * *





That night as I walk towards Mum and Dad’s house I pull out my phone and take another deep breath. This is no big deal. I’m sure it's not proper fraud and you’re doing this for a friend. She’ll thank you eventually.

I dial the number and wait for someone to pick it up.

‘Hello, Grenada Estate Agents, how can I help you?’

‘Hi,’ I say in the most official PA voice I can muster. ‘This is Miss Windsor here, PA to Miss Jasmine Green. I’d like to make an appointment to see a flat.’

‘Oh marvellous,’ the woman says, clearly smelling a sale. ‘Can I ask the flat in question?’

‘Yes, it's property number 652, a flat on Brenville Road.’

‘OK, let me have a look.’ I listen to her tapping on her computer and brace myself for her answer, my stomach a bag of nerves. ‘Oh dear. I’m afraid that we’ve had an accepted offer on that flat and it's been taken off the market.’

‘Well, Miss Green is willing to pay over the odds.’

‘I’m afraid there's nothing I can do,’ she says apologetically.

‘You do realise that I’m talking about Miss Jasmine Green? Daughter to the porn tycoon Reginald Green?’

‘Oh....wow. No, I didn’t’. I can hear her thinking. ‘When you say willing to pay over the odds....how...how much more are we talking?’

‘Let’s just say that Miss Green knows what she wants and money is no object to her.’

‘Crumbs!’ She laughs nervously.

‘Look, it's up to you. If you’d rather miss out on the commission...’

‘Oh no! No, no, we’d love to help! Let me speak to the seller and get back to you. If I could just take a number.’

I smile to myself and give her my number. Thank God, for once things are going my way.

I let myself in and stop for a minute to breathe in the overly perfumed house. It normally over powers me, but today I find it soothing. This afternoon with Victor was torturous. I had to explain that we couldn’t change the flights and if we booked something else we’d have to lose the money. To say he wasn’t pleased is an understatement. He actually threw a stapler.

‘Hi, Mum, are you in?’

‘Hey Po Po,’ Ollie says, walking out of the kitchen eating toast. His eye is completely black now from Jake’s punch. Far worse than I thought it would be.

‘Hey bro. Where’s Mum?’

‘She’s in the sitting room arguing with Dad in front of Abbey.’ He rolls his eyes.

‘Oh great,’ I sigh. ‘How did she react to the black eye?’

‘I don't want to talk about it,’ he says dismissively. ‘Let’s just say not well. It's this fucking wedding stressing her out. It’s all she’s been talking about for the last year. It's driving me crazy.’

Thank God I have one normal brother.

‘Tell me about it. Apparently I’m here for a fitting for a dress she’s picked out for me.’

‘Ha ha! Good luck. Oh and wait till you see the new sitting room,’ he smirks. He turns and stomps upstairs like a moody teenager.

I take a deep breath to brace myself and enter the room.

‘All I’m saying is that Abbey might not want you wearing a white dress,’ Dad says, as diplomatically as he can.

‘And why the hell shouldn’t I? Your mother took over my wedding and completely ruined it, and by the looks of it I’m not going to have the pleasure of giving Poppy away, so this may be the only wedding I get.’

‘Only wedding you get? My God, Richard only got married last year and you nearly drove Annabel mad with your ridiculous planning. And you’re doing the same again.’

‘Oh, hi darling,’ Mum says, when she sees me. ‘Come and give Mummy a hug.’ She puts down her glass of wine and opens her arms wide.

‘Hi Pops,’ Dad says, seeming exhausted by Mum’s usual antics.

But I can't respond yet. Oh my God. The room. It's Moroccan themed. It's bloody ridiculous! She’s laid new red patterned carpet and there are low slung red sofas covered in hundreds of cushions, each a different luxurious fabric – silk, velvet, woollen – every one of them embroidered in over the top patterns.

There are tiny tables placed around the room with floor cushions around them. Even the walls are draped in fabric – red, purple, yellow. I look up and the chandelier is now surrounded by billowing fabric. God knows how it's even staying up there. How much did this cost?

‘Darling? Are you OK?’ Mum asks concerned.

‘No...It’s just the room,’ I say gesturing around.

‘I know! It's fabulous isn’t it? I’m so glad you like it.’

‘Hi Abbey,’ I nod, noticing her on the edge of the sofa.

‘Hi,’ she says, looking glum as she downs her wine.

‘You must be getting really excited about the wedding now then? Only a week to go,’ I say, faking excitement as I try to find somewhere to sit down amongst the thousands of cushions.

‘Mmm, I would be if it wasn’t so stressful.’ She looks over at my Mum as she says it.

‘Yeah, did I hear right Mum? Did I hear you say you’re wearing a white dress?’

‘Yes you did actually! And I’m well within my rights to wear it!’ she shouts defiantly.

‘For goodness sakes Meryl! When will you just grow up and realise everything isn’t about you!?’ Dad shouts.

‘Mum! You cannot wear a white dress. And anyway, I don't think white suits you very well. Abbey, what colour did you say the bridesmaids were in?’

‘They’re in brown,’ she says, uninterested.

Brown? What the hell? Why would you choose the colour of poo for your wedding day?

‘Aah, brown! Well Mum, I’ve always loved you in brown. It really suits your skin, you know, all bronzed and stuff.’

‘Mmm, I suppose I could look nice and tanned,’ she says, mulling it over.

‘Oh completely. I think you’d look fab. You should really do it.’ I hope I’m winning her over.

‘Oh, you’re right. What the hell, I’ll wear brown. I’ll get a fabulous brown dress made for me. ‘Carol,’ she calls, turning to the family seamstress. ‘I know Poppy was booked in for her dress fitting, but do you think you’d have time to do me first?’

‘I...’ Carol starts.

‘Of course you do, fabulous! I’ll just go and get my strapless bra on.’ She turns and runs out of the room.

‘Poppy, thank you so much!’ Abbey says, running over and hugging me. ‘You’ve literally saved my life. My Mum said she’d punch her in the face if she turned up in white. I’ve been having sleepless nights about it.’

‘Don't worry about it. We know what she can be like.’ I smile knowingly at Dad.

‘You’re a lifesaver. Listen...I know you were booked in to just get a normal dress fitted that your Mum bought for you, but I was thinking...do you want to be one of my bridesmaids?’ she asks jumping up and down in excitement.

‘Bridesmaid?’