other side, a sweet-faced chubby girl gave me a half-smile half-grimace, and I realized she was probably reflecting my own expression. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a run in her tights and warmed to her.
âHello there!â I said heartily, putting a brave face on it, like I did in the majorettes when they picked Amanda to lead the marching band. Cheery Cockney lad gave me a smirk.
âAlwight, dorlin? Wot you in for then?â
âFive to ten, unless I behave myself.â
âRoit,â he said, with an odd little sidelong glance. He was obviously wondering if I was trying to be a smart arse and, if so, what I was doing trying to usurp his position.
I turned to the left, but the girl with the ladder in her tights was obviously having a deeply personal conversation on the phone. Huh. I busied around tidying things up â like that was something I usually did â so Flavi wouldnât come over to see how I was doing. When lunch time came, at last , I went out to find a payphone. Well, I didnât want to look too bad on my first day.
As I walked out into the freezing afternoon, I didnât even want to think about where Alex had spent the night. Last time Iâd phoned Charlieâs house, heâd been six thousand miles away.
And he hadnât even called me, the bastard. I was ready to get deeply upset when I remembered that Elvis and Tony had had the phone disconnected all morning, so he couldnât have got in touch even if he had wanted to. If heâd tried, I thought grimly. But I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, and tried my house first. Surprisingly, Linda answered the phone. I really didnât want to talk to her. After a quick mental battle with myself as to whether to just say âSorry ⦠long numberâ in a dreadful Chinese accent and hang up, I asked for Alex, without identifying myself.
âNo, heâs moved his stuff out. Melanie, is that you?â she asked wonderingly.
âNo! Sorry! Bye,â I said, and put the phone down, slumping against the wall. Heâd moved his stuff out. Another fucking moonlight flit. Where had he gone this time? I wondered to myself. China? Tibet? He could stick that North Pole up his arse, see if he could find himself with that. Fuck! How could he?! Again?
I noticed a particularly virulent prostituteâs card stuck up in the phonebox. A woman was bent over with her wrists tied to her ankles. Above a childishly written phone number it said: âMelanie, new to the area, submissive â loves punishment. Will service your every need.â It was a sign. Definitely a sign. But what could it mean?
I had a disconsolate sandwich and wandered back to my new home, where the rat-faced man to my right was vigorously enjoying a ridiculously stinkyhamburger. Small pieces of lettuce and indescribable goo were dripping on to my ⦠what looked like my ⦠well, anyway, an enormous bunch of flowers dumped straight on to my desk. My mind went through the options: David Duchovny; the cast of ER ; Alex, from the North Pole â¦
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the girl with the ladder in her tights trying to weep inconspicuously.
Very carefully, I picked up the bouquet. âHey, pumpkin,â it said on the card. Terse as ever. I relaxed.
âSending flowers to yourself again?â coughed Ratto, mildly spewing me with burger phlegm.
âNo, actually, theyâre for you. Oh, have you got a boyfriend called Alex as well? What a coincidence!â
âThink youâre funny?â muttered Ratto, and returned to his mastication.
I turned to the girl.
âAre you OK?â
âYes, Iâm fine,â she whimpered, clearly not fine. âItâs my contact lenses.â
The man with Copydex stuck to his chin eventually came downstairs with my phone sorted out. The voice mail appeared to have been switched off, and when I looked up Charlieâs number in the
âHello there!â I said heartily, putting a brave face on it, like I did in the majorettes when they picked Amanda to lead the marching band. Cheery Cockney lad gave me a smirk.
âAlwight, dorlin? Wot you in for then?â
âFive to ten, unless I behave myself.â
âRoit,â he said, with an odd little sidelong glance. He was obviously wondering if I was trying to be a smart arse and, if so, what I was doing trying to usurp his position.
I turned to the left, but the girl with the ladder in her tights was obviously having a deeply personal conversation on the phone. Huh. I busied around tidying things up â like that was something I usually did â so Flavi wouldnât come over to see how I was doing. When lunch time came, at last , I went out to find a payphone. Well, I didnât want to look too bad on my first day.
As I walked out into the freezing afternoon, I didnât even want to think about where Alex had spent the night. Last time Iâd phoned Charlieâs house, heâd been six thousand miles away.
And he hadnât even called me, the bastard. I was ready to get deeply upset when I remembered that Elvis and Tony had had the phone disconnected all morning, so he couldnât have got in touch even if he had wanted to. If heâd tried, I thought grimly. But I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, and tried my house first. Surprisingly, Linda answered the phone. I really didnât want to talk to her. After a quick mental battle with myself as to whether to just say âSorry ⦠long numberâ in a dreadful Chinese accent and hang up, I asked for Alex, without identifying myself.
âNo, heâs moved his stuff out. Melanie, is that you?â she asked wonderingly.
âNo! Sorry! Bye,â I said, and put the phone down, slumping against the wall. Heâd moved his stuff out. Another fucking moonlight flit. Where had he gone this time? I wondered to myself. China? Tibet? He could stick that North Pole up his arse, see if he could find himself with that. Fuck! How could he?! Again?
I noticed a particularly virulent prostituteâs card stuck up in the phonebox. A woman was bent over with her wrists tied to her ankles. Above a childishly written phone number it said: âMelanie, new to the area, submissive â loves punishment. Will service your every need.â It was a sign. Definitely a sign. But what could it mean?
I had a disconsolate sandwich and wandered back to my new home, where the rat-faced man to my right was vigorously enjoying a ridiculously stinkyhamburger. Small pieces of lettuce and indescribable goo were dripping on to my ⦠what looked like my ⦠well, anyway, an enormous bunch of flowers dumped straight on to my desk. My mind went through the options: David Duchovny; the cast of ER ; Alex, from the North Pole â¦
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the girl with the ladder in her tights trying to weep inconspicuously.
Very carefully, I picked up the bouquet. âHey, pumpkin,â it said on the card. Terse as ever. I relaxed.
âSending flowers to yourself again?â coughed Ratto, mildly spewing me with burger phlegm.
âNo, actually, theyâre for you. Oh, have you got a boyfriend called Alex as well? What a coincidence!â
âThink youâre funny?â muttered Ratto, and returned to his mastication.
I turned to the girl.
âAre you OK?â
âYes, Iâm fine,â she whimpered, clearly not fine. âItâs my contact lenses.â
The man with Copydex stuck to his chin eventually came downstairs with my phone sorted out. The voice mail appeared to have been switched off, and when I looked up Charlieâs number in the
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