Spin Cycle by Sue Margolis Page A

daft,” she came back at him, “and I’m not having you confront him on your own. I’m coming too.”
    By the time they reached the door, the man had disappeared inside. It then took Rachel several seconds rummaging through her bag before she found her keys. The moment they stepped into the hall, they spotted him hovering outside Shelley’s flat.
    “Er, excuse me,” Rachel called out. “Can I help you?”
    The man swung round. He was tiny, with a fair-sized paunch. He also had a beard and was wearing small gold-rimmed glasses.
    “Oh, hi Rache. Hi Adam,” he said—except it wasn’t the voice of a he. He was a she.
    “Shelley?” Rachel said uncertainly. “Is that you under there?”
    Shelley pulled off the beard and burst out laughing. “Course it is.”
    Adam rolled his eyes.
    “I’ve been to a fancy dress party. We had to go as our favorite hero or heroine.”
    “So,” Adam said, “who did you go as, Captain Von Trapp’s batman?”
    “Hah, hah. Oh come on—isn’t it obvious who I am?”
    Rachel and Adam looked at her and then at each other.
    “Not really,” Rachel said. “No.”
    “Oh come on,” Shelley urged. “It’s easy. Guess.”
    “Nope. Give up,” Rachel declared.
    “I’m Dr. Joseph Bircher. You know—who invented muesli.”
    “Oh right,” Rachel said diplomatically. “I bet that’s a first for a fancy dress party.”
    “Yes,” Adam said. “Very whole grain, I’m sure.”
    Then he whispered to Rachel that Bircher was Swiss.
    Rachel elbowed him in the ribs.
    Shelley feigned offense at the whole-grain remark and then invited them in for a drink. Adam made noises about having to get to his mother’s, but Rachel said five minutes wasn’t going to make much difference.
    While Shelley disappeared in search of a bottle of Château Noshit Aussie organic, Adam went to the loo.
    When he came into the living room, he winced at the decor as if he were seeing it for the first time, flicked an imaginary spot of dirt off the pony skin sofa and sat himself down gingerly next to Rachel. A moment later Shelley came in, carrying two glasses of red wine.
    “The thing about so many wines,” Shelley said, “is that they put antifreeze in them to give them a kick. This stuff is totally additive free.”
    She handed a glass to each of them and then went back to the kitchen to fetch her glass of cranberry juice.
    Adam took one sip of wine and pulled a face. “I can understand why they add the antifreeze,” he muttered.
    This time Rachel kicked him. “Be quiet,” she hissed. “Shelley’ll hear you.”
    Just as Shelley walked back into the room, Adam’s mobile went off. It was his mother again.
    “I’m sorry, but I really do have to go.” He stood up and kissed Rachel briefly on the lips. “It’s probably best if I sleep at Mum’s tonight. I’ll pop round tomorrow to say good-bye.”
    Rachel smiled—doing her best to conceal her disappointment. They hadn’t done it in ages and now they wouldn’t until he got back from South Africa.
    “OK. See ya.”
    He gave Shelley a hesitant, awkward peck on the cheek and left.
    After Adam had gone Rachel told Shelley about the comedy competition and about having met Matt Clapton again. She listened, made highly encouraging noises about the competition and laughed when Rachel explained the mix-up over the T-shirt, but Rachel could tell her friend was preoccupied.
    Eventually their conversation fell into silence.
    “You know,” Shelley said eventually, as she carried on swinging on the garden swing and dragging her feet over the Astro Turf. “You’re so lucky to have a somebody who loves you.”
    Rachel’s smile was tinged with guilt.
    “I mean,” Shelley went on, “at this party tonight, there wasn’t one bloke who seemed even remotely interested in me.”
    Rachel was tempted to say this probably had more to do with the beard and lederhosen than any innate unattractiveness, but she didn’t.
    “Look,” she said, “I know how hard it