in the school a bit. Made me feel like I was doing something real.’
‘Better than counting bloody fish anyway,’ said Lottie with feeling.
Bella drained her glass and reached for the bottle. ‘Ain’t that the truth? Pissed off Francis, too,’ she added with satisfaction. ‘I was supposed to be there to run his errands, not work with the villagers.’ She topped up Lottie’s wine as well. ‘Boils on the bum to Francis Don!’
Lottie’s eyes gleamed. ‘I’ll drink to that.’
They both did, glasses solemnly raised.
‘So what do you do next?’
Bella shook her head. ‘I honestly don’t know.’ She stretched. ‘Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad I went. I learned a lot. But – well, I don’t think I’m really a born ecologist. I like people more than fish.’
‘Thank God for that, at least.’
‘I thought I might do a course on teaching English as a Foreign Language. I seemed to be quite good at it. But I’ve got all these debts and my father will disown me if I don’t start earning. So it’s the temp agency for me tomorrow.’
Lottie looked at her carefully. ‘I thought you said you’d input your last invoice when we left college?’
Bella pulled a face. ‘I know. But needs must. Besides, I have a sentimental desire to see a paycheque again.’
‘Fair enough. But wait until Monday. I’ve got an invitation to a Fab-U-Louse party tomorrow night, and you’ve just gotta come too.’
‘Great,’ said Bella, and suddenly cracked a massive yawn. ‘Oops. Sorry.’
‘I’ll give you a hot water bottle,’ said Lottie. ‘The heating has been off in that room for weeks. Come on, you. Sleepy time.’
And Bella staggered off to clean her teeth before falling into bed and sleeping for fourteen hours straight.
She woke to find Lottie had gone out, leaving two messages on the table in the tiny kitchen.
The first was vintage Lottie Hendred: V. posh party tonight, pick a dress, any dress.
The other was a phone message. Robopop rang in case you were here. He says don’t call your mother too early on Sunday. Pillock.
Lottie really did not need to add that last word, thought Bella wryly. Lottie had never liked Kevin. Bella was always telling Lottie that her mother’s obsession with climbing the social heights of the Local History Society and the Ladies’ Golf Section was not his fault. Lottie had never believed her but Bella knew her mother. Turning over Kevin’s message, she could almost hear her mother saying it.
Don’t call too early? Don’t call too early? Gee, thanks, Mum.
Suddenly, gloriously, Bella was so angry she knew exactly what she was going to do. She was not going to raid Lottie’s wardrobe, though they had cheerfully borrowed from each other for three years at university and even before that. But today Bella was going to splurge Kevin’s conscience money on a dress and pretty, crazy shoes and she was going to go to that posh party and dance until morning, or possibly the morning after.
Don’t call too early? She was going to party so hard she wouldn’t be able to call her mother for a week.
Of course, it didn’t work out like that. For one thing, she needed more than party wear, as Lottie, returning from the Saturday grocery shop, told her crisply. For ten months Bella had lived in shorts and tee-shirt or diving gear. She had no clothes to wrap herself up in against the chill breezes of a London autumn; and she soon realised that her much-washed underwear was about to disintegrate.
‘Besides,’ said Lottie, sitting on Bella’s bed and surveying the contents of the backpack critically, ‘your hair is like straw. I just have to look at it and I smell seaweed.’
‘Don’t mention seaweed. We had it for dinner twice a week.’
Lottie was appalled. ‘You’re joking, right?’
Bella shook her head, her eyes dancing.
Lottie moaned.
‘It was a very healthy life-style. Out in the fresh air, bags of exercise, healthy diet—’
‘Seaweed?’
Bella grinned. ‘I said healthy, not tasty. Seaweed is full of minerals.’
Lottie shuddered. ‘And what does it taste like?’
‘Oh, pants,’ said Bella matter-of-factly. ‘But when you’re hungry you’ll eat anything. And it really is nutritionally good value.’
‘You were hungry?’
‘Um, yes.’
‘Well, no wonder you look so terrible.’
‘Do I?’ Startled, Bella peered at herself in her predecessor’s massive mirror.
What she saw was not that bad. OK, the blonde hair was a haystack and her hands were a bit rough by Lottie’s Metropolitan PR Industry standard. But she had a faint golden tan from working under the tropical sun and her eyes sparkled. She’d certainly lost that