30
Leah’s phone rang at 7.05 p.m. It was Amitabh.
‘Hello,’ he said. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Looking out the window. What are you doing?’
‘Having a bath.’
Leah found it very strange when people made phone calls from the bath. It was almost as if they were inviting the recipient of the call to imagine them naked. ‘What do you want?’ she said, more abruptly than she’d intended.
‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘I was just thinking about you. Wanted to make sure you were all right.’
‘Oh.’
‘Found anywhere to live yet?’
‘No,’ she said, winding the cord of the phone round her wrist. ‘I made a bit of extra cash last week so I’ve decided to stay here for another month.’
‘What! But that’s such a waste of money! Paying out all that rent for just you.’
‘Well, what do you suggest I do?’
‘I dunno. I just think if you’ve got some spare cash you should put it in the bank. Start saving for a deposit.’
Leah rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, God, Am, can you just drop the subject, please. I’m bored with it. And besides, it’s nothing to do with you any more.’
‘And don’t call me “Leelee”.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it’s my girlfriend name, not my ex-girlfriend name.’
‘Yeah, but you’ll always be Leelee to me.’
‘What, even when you’re married to some girl from Mumbai and you’ve got loads of hairy children?’
Amitabh laughed, then he sighed. ‘Oh, Christ, Leah. God, I don’t know. Maybe this is all wrong, you know.’
Leah squinted and pursed her lips simultaneously, her body instinctively drawing itself inwards. ‘What?’
‘Maybe we shouldn’t have given up so easily.’
‘We?!’
‘Well, yeah, me. Maybe I should have … God, I don’t know.’
‘Amitabh, what exactly are you saying here?’
‘I don’t know what I’m saying. But I miss you, that’s all. I didn’t think I would, but I do.’
Leah noticed a shadow on the other side of the road, long and thin, cast by the street light overhead. She cupped her hand to the window and peered through. She could hear the tap-tap of hurried footsteps. It was Joanne.
‘Sorry, Am,’ she said, oblivious to what he was saying. ‘I have to go now. I’ll call you back. Bye.’
She dropped the phone and dashed to the front door. Joanne was just about to open the garden gate.
‘Joanne!’ she cried. ‘Hi!’
Joanne turned and glared at her. She was wearing a black leather coat, black lacy knit tights and black ankle boots with furry bobbles hanging off them. Her hair was black and held back with diamanté cherries. She was wearing red lipstick and black eyeliner, and looked like Juliette Binoche on a very bad day.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump.’
‘You didn’t,’ she replied stonily.
‘Right. OK. I was just, er … I hope you don’t mind me accosting you on the street like this, but I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.’
Joanne narrowed her eyes at Leah, regarding her as if she were trying to ascertain what species she was. ‘Sorry,’ she said, pulling her keys out of her handbag, ‘but who are you and how do you know my name?’
Leah looked at her in surprise. Surely she must have noticed her at least once during the past two years? ‘Er, I’m Leah? Toby’s friend? I live there.’ She pointed at her front door. ‘Just over the road from you.’
‘Oh,’ said Joanne, ‘I see.’
‘And the reason I wanted to talk to you was, and I know this might sound a bit strange, but I’ve noticed that you take great care over your appearance …’
Joanne glanced down at her leather coat. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘I wouldn’t say that.’
‘Oh, but you do. I always notice how well turned out you are, always wearing different clothes, different hair. I mean, I’m just lazy when it comes to clothes and make-up and stuff. Jeans, boots, bit of mascara – that’s as far as I go. I haven’t changed my image for years. And that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I run a gift shop in Muswell Hill, the Pink Hummingbird?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she nodded. ‘I know it.’
‘Well, we’re having a special open evening, on Friday night, to celebrate the launch of a new cosmetics range.’ She pulled a piece of pink card out of her pocket and handed it over. ‘It’s all 100 per cent organic, imported from California. We’re going to be one of the first London stockists. They’re sending us over one of their make-up artists and they’ll be doing free make-overs, free wine, snacks and stuff. It’s quite exclusive. I’m only allowed to invite a handful of guests and I just thought it seemed like the sort of thing you might enjoy?’
Joanne turned the card over and squinted at it. ‘When did you say this was?’
‘Friday night. Six-thirty to nine.’
‘Hmmm.’ Joanne turned it over again. ‘I don’t know.’ She was feigning disinterest, but Leah could tell that Joanne had taken the bait. She would be there, without a doubt.
‘Well,’ she said, ‘if you can’t make it, please let me know. Numbers are tight and I’d like to pass your invitation on to someone else if you’re not going to come.’
‘Yes,’ she said, slipping the card into her bag. ‘OK. I’ll come.’
‘You will?’
‘Yes. Count me in.’
‘Excellent,’ beamed Leah. ‘I’m really glad. It’s going to be such a lovely evening. You’ll love it.’
And then something remarkable happened – Joanne smiled. ‘I look forward to it,’ she said. ‘Thank you for inviting me.’
‘My pleasure,’ said Leah, ‘my pleasure entirely.’
Leah glanced at the phone when she got back inside. An image of a large, wrinkled Amitabh, lying in a cold bath, waiting for her to call him back, passed through her mind. She touched the phone briefly with her fingertips, then retracted them. She couldn’t face it. She’d call him tomorrow.
Instead she went back to the front window and peered across the street again. She saw the shadowy movement of a figure, climbing the stairs, through the central window of the Peacock House. She assumed it was Joanne, on her way to her lonely, fortressed room with a pink invitation in her handbag. She glanced upwards and saw Toby, sitting as ever in his window, playing on his computer. She wondered what he was looking at. Was he in a chatroom talking to a fat girl from Maryland called Paris? Was he cogitating over his poetry? Or maybe he was just staring, vacantly, meaninglessly, into whiteness.
She wondered if he’d seen her just now, talking to Joanne on the street.
She wondered if he’d approve or if he’d think she was interfering.
A couple of minutes later he stood up, walked to the other side of the room, then came back and drew his curtains, and all at once Leah found herself staring at a dark, silent house. Feeling a bit weird, she drew her own curtains and got on with her night.