Fry by Lorna Dounaeva Page B

scramble about, pulling the coffee table back to its original position, and then I unbolt the door.
    “What was all that about?” he asks as he strides inside. “Sounded like you were rearranging the furniture.”
    “Er, yes  - I was, but I decided it looks better the way it was.”
    He raises an eyebrow and perches himself on the sofa.
    “I came to give you your Christmas present.”
    “You already gave me a Christmas present,” I remind him, pulling a face. He left me a book called ‘Managing your finances’ when he came for dinner.
    “Your real Christmas present, silly. I wanted to see your face when you opened it.”
    “Oh!”
    He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out an envelope.
    “What’s this?”
    “Why don’t you open it?”
    I slit it open.
    “Depeche Mode tickets?  Oh my god, this is amazing! You’re the best!” I hug him violently. “I have wanted to see them forever.”
    “I know.  I couldn’t believe it when I heard that they’re finally coming to the Arena. The tickets are for Saturday night. I know it’s a bit short notice but I really wanted to surprise you.”
    Wow!
    I start mentally thumbing through my wardrobe, deciding what I should wear.
    But wait...A big grey cloud drifts into my thoughts.
    “There are only two tickets. What about Alicia?”
    “Oh, she won’t mind. I mean, it’s Depeche Mode. They’re a bit before her time, aren’t they?”
    I smile, but inside, my stomach is churning. 
    This is Alicia we’re talking about. I can’t accept Deacon’s invitation.
    “You do want to go?” he asks, studying my face carefully. “You’ve gone awfully quiet.”
    “Of course I do!” I hug him again. “Best gift ever!”
    I’ll just have to come up with an excuse in the morning.
    But I can’t face telling Deacon the next day or the next.  Finally, on Thursday night I force myself to drive over to the Beach House after work.
    “Isabel!” Rhett greets me. “Wait till you see what I got in the sales!”
    He pulls me into the kitchen, where Deacon is sitting at the table, reading the newspaper and eating a roast beef sandwich.
    Rhett bounds up to his room and returns, wielding a Frankie Morello shoe box.
    “Wow,” I say eyeing his expensive new trainers. “They’re pink!”
    “I know!”
    “How much?”
    “40% off!” 
    “Nice.”
    He places the shoes back in their box, tenderly wrapping them back up in their tissue paper. He keeps all his shoes like that, never even wears half of them. Still, whatever makes him happy.
    “So what did you get in the sales?” he asks me.
    “The sales?” I repeat. “Oh, I haven’t been.”
    Deacon looks up from his newspaper.
    “ You haven’t been to the sales?” he repeats in disbelief. “Why not?”
    “I just didn’t feel like it this year.”
    He leans over and puts his hand to my forehead. “You don’t seem to have a temperature.”
    I smile weakly. The truth is, shopping hasn’t been terribly high on my agenda lately. 
    “But Isabel,” Rhett gasps, “shopping is your life. I thought we were kindred spirits!”
    “It’s really not such a big deal,” I say lightly. “I’ve just been busy, that’s all.”
    “Hmm…” Rhett is still looking at me like I’m from another planet.
    “So about Saturday night,” says Deacon. “Do you want me to pick you up, or shall we meet at the Arena?”
    “Deacon, about that…”
    “What?”
    “Look, I’m really sorry but I don’t think I’m going to be able to go.”
    “Why not?” he folds his arms. “I thought you were looking forward to it.”
    “I was, but I just found out I have to work that night,” I lie feebly.
    “On a Saturday night?” Deacon frowns. “Look Isabel, if this is about Alicia…”
    “It’s not about Alicia.”
    “Cos I already talked to her and she’s fine with it.”
    I bet.
    Alicia!
    I sense her watching from the banisters. Her eyes are lasers, scorching the back of my head.
    “I really have to work that night,” I