angriest man in the world. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was him who poo’d in the sandpit. It’s the kind of thing he’d do.’
‘What are you talking about? He’s completely lovely. I wanted to ask him about booze for the party, and then I could’ve invited him.’
‘Oh no: he is SO not on the guest list.’
I recount the whole hideous scene, but she’s unmoved.
‘He was being protective of us. Why are you so bad at accepting help?’
‘Why are you so incapable of judging character?’
‘Yeah, cos Steve was a great choice, wasn’t he?’
I’m about to hit back, when I’m kiboshed by the accuracy of the insult. She’s right: he was a terrible choice, a choice only trumped by the decision to fall for a married man. I can feel myself crumpling as Alice throws an arm around my shoulders.
‘Oh, Lulu, come here. I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean it.’
And she reminds me what a knob he was all the way home, and how much better the next one will be. And although I know they’re platitudes, I can’t help but be comforted. It’s not even the words, more the timbre of her voice and the solidity of her presence. Soon we’re ensconced on the sofa, quaffing Mr Angry’s wine, the argument forgotten.
‘What was the date, anyway?’ I ask her, unreasonably frustrated that I couldn’t read her mind. ‘Was it Mum’s anniversary?’
‘No,’ she says, brisk. ‘It was my graduation date.’
‘Oh,’ I say, surprised that she chose something so prosaic.
‘What are we going to do about Dad coming over?’ says Alice, after a pause. ‘Do you think we should ask them to stay? We’ve technically got room. We’ve never had room!’
‘He won’t slum it with us,’ I say. ‘He’ll want to stay in some grimola corporate hotel in town.’ I hate how acid I sound. I guess there’s a part of me that longs for him to be more engaged.
‘We should definitely ask,’ says Alice brightly, choosing to ignore the barb. ‘They can only say no.’
I think about articulating what I feel, but the problem is that it’s exactly that: no more than a feeling – it’s not like he’s done anything wrong. He was offered a fantastic opportunity in the US and he took it. It’s just that some part of me feels that we were deserted, right from the moment Mum was taken away. Before I decide whether to give voice to this or not, Alice has determinedly moved on, focusing on our plan to dig up some suitable romantic prospects for Rufus in time for the party. My suggestion of Gareth falls on stony ground.
‘We should work on the basis that he’s straight till proven otherwise,’ she says. ‘Besides, Gareth would eat him for breakfast.’
It’s true enough, but I’m struggling. I’ve invited Briony, the youngest dresser, while Alice has gone for the comely classroom assistant.
‘Maybe that’s enough,’ I say. ‘Anyway, it’s a lost cause. He’ll probably start taking his laptop to bed with him soon. Just to cuddle, not for porn.’
The mention of bed reminds me that I’m still on normal time, not yet adjusted to stupid o’clock. Even if I go to bed right now I’ll have to get up in five measly hours. And that’s without allowing the extra half hour it’ll take to make myself look like I’ve made no effort, I’m just naturally gorgeous. Not that I should be worrying about something so patently ridiculous. I know I can’t have him, that I shouldn’t even want him, but it turns out it’s way less simple than that…
Chapter Six
‘Now, Lulu – be honest with me – do ringlets round out my face? I’m just not sure if I can carry them off.’
Emily delivers this searing enquiry with a girlish giggle, which makes it absolutely clear what the correct answer is. I’ve now been imprisoned in her winnebago with no hope of parole for the best part of an hour. So far we’ve covered her lipstick (is natural natural or just plain dowdy?), her manicure (will her polish get caught on camera and, if so, must she really lose it?) and now the hair. I catch myself staring out of the window at Charles’s trailer, willing him to emerge.
‘Lulu?’ she snaps.
‘Sorry, I was just giving it proper thought. Ringlets are great for you. A lot of people couldn’t carry them off, but with your bone structure…’
I know, I know, I’m a hypocrite – but keeping a rampant egotist like her on side will make my life immeasurably