The One You Really Want

By ten o’clock the dancing was in full swing. Connor pulled Nancy energetically onto the dance floor, not realising what he’d done until he saw her flinch and bite her lip.

‘Oh God, oh Jesus, I’m sorry.’ Hitting his own forehead in despair, he reached for her wrists and examined the angry grazes on her palms. ‘What an idiot I am. I completely forgot. Feel free to kick me as hard as you like - go on, right there on my shin.’

Nancy smiled, the twin explosions of pain slowly receding as Connor made his over-the-top apologies. It wasn’t easy to behave in a natural friendly manner when you were being invited to kick someone you had a violent crush on. It was harder still when you were aware that his girlfriend, standing less than six feet away, was watching you like a kestrel watches a baby shrew.

But Connor, determined to make amends and oblivious to Sadie’s glares, pulled Nancy into an ungainly bear hug and said in her ear, ‘I’m glad you came tonight.’

Nancy wasn’t sure at all. Carmen was barely on speaking terms with Rennie. Upon hearing about the party, she had announced that she was working at the shelter until nine and might come along later. And no, she most certainly would not be bringing Joe. What, with Rennie there? Was Nancy serious?

‘Whoops, sorry,’ trilled Sadie, ‘didn’t mean to step on your foot! Now, have you two finished chatting, because I’d quite like to dance with my boyfriend. This is our favourite song, isn’t it, darling?’

But Sadie had already inveigled herself in front of him, tossing her magenta ringlets and gyrating her hips as only an aerobics teacher could. Making her escape before the ringlets could whip her painfully across the face, Nancy headed over to Mia and a couple of girls from the Lazy B.

‘Take it as a compliment,’ Jess, the shorter girl, consoled Nancy. ‘She doesn’t get nearly as het up when Connor’s talking to someone ugly.’

‘But that’s the thing,’ said Therese. ‘Connor chats to everyone as if he fancies them. It’s just his way. He’s such a charmer, all he has to do is ask you if your verrucas have cleared up and you get that gorgeous squidgy feeling in your stomach. I mean, he doesn’t mean to do it, he just can’t help it, can he?’

Well, that tells me, thought Nancy. So much for thinking that the way Connor had been talking to her might have been in any way special.

Jess said, ‘Sadie’s going to have her work cut out keeping that jealousy of hers under control. She’s mad about Connor. God, look at the way her boobs are jiggling.’

‘Sshh.’ Jess gave her a nudge, because she was getting loud and Sadie had just shot them a suspicious glance. ‘If Connor marries her, she’ll be your stepmum.’

‘My cousin said that when her dad started seeing this hotshot magazine editor,’ said Therese. ‘They couldn’t stand each other. My cousin couldn’t believe her dad had such terrible taste. When she found out they were thinking of getting married, she threatened to run away from home.’

‘They got married. The hotshot magazine editor gave up her job and had four kids in five years. They’ve all got names like Archie and Alfred. It’s like walking into an old people’s home.’

‘Ran away from home. No other choice. Well, they explained to her that at nineteen, you couldn’t technically call it running away from home, but that’s what she ended up doing. Moved into a disgusting bedsitter in Clapham. And she and her stepmother still hate each other.’ Therese gave Mia’s arm a comforting pat. ‘So you see? It could be a lot worse. Count your lucky stars Sadie isn’t pregnant.’

This was serious. This was seriously serious. Now that the thought had been implanted in her mind, Mia found she couldn’t let it go. She couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to her before. How many women, desperate not to lose the man of their dreams, ‘accidentally’ became pregnant? God, zillions. And Sadie was how old? Thirty-three? Her biological clock was probably clanging away inside her surgically enhanced chest. She’d do anything to hang on to Connor. She knew he wouldn’t leave her high and dry, because Connor was an honourable man, a devoted father who would never renege on his responsibilities.

Feeling hot, and unaccustomed to drinking, Mia pressed her head against the cold metal of the upright freezer. She nodded. ‘Big headache.’

‘Hang on, I’ve painkillers in my bag.’ Rose scuttled off and Mia took the opportunity to refill her Lilt can with chilled Frascati. There was a terrifying image in her brain of Sadie, hugely pregnant, firing out babies - pop, pop, pop, pop - like bullets from a machine gun. Gulping down half the Frascati and feeling her head start to buzz, Mia made her way slightly unsteadily across the kitchen in search of inspiration. This couldn’t happen, it really mustn’t happen. Was this how James Bond felt when he knew that if he didn’t act now, the world would be destroyed?

‘Here we are!’ Rose was back, clutching her brown patchwork leather handbag. Rummaging efficiently through the contents, she found a packet of Nurofen and popped a couple out of their plastic casings. ‘That’s it, sweetheart, wash them down with some of that Lilt. They’ll perk you up in no time.’

‘Perk me up. You make me sound like a pair of bosoms. Like Sadie with her permanently perky bosoms - in fact, permanently perky protuberances . . .’ Mia was dimly aware that she was wittering on, but a thought was currently unfurling in her brain, courtesy of Rose and her patchwork leather bag.

As she knocked back the Nurofens and sluiced them down with Frascati, wine dripped down the front of her purple top. Rose promptly whisked a tissue from a mini-pack in her bag and handed it to Mia.

Because that was the thing about handbags, you kept your whole life in them. A woman’s handbag was capable of telling you an awful lot about its owner. And Sadie ‘Perky Bosoms’ Sylvester’s handbag was currently hanging on a hook in the cupboard under the stairs. Just dangling there, all on its own in the dark, potentially bulging with secrets . . .

‘Still feeling a bit poorly, pet? Whoops-a-daisy.’ Rose caught Mia’s arm as she swayed and almost toppled over. ‘Why don’t you go upstairs and lie down for a few minutes?’

The hall was empty. Everyone was in the living room singing and dancing along to Abba’s ‘Waterloo’. Honestly, old people could be so sad sometimes; Mia hoped she wouldn’t end up like that.

She opened the under-stairs cupboard and saw Sadie’s bag hanging from one of the coat hooks. Most people kept theirs with them but Sadie had been paranoid about drink being spilled on her precious pale blue suede Prada. Mia’s fingers itched to open it but, pressing though her need was, she was aware that it wasn’t the height of good manners to go rooting through your dad’s girlfriend’s personal private things.

If, on the other hand, she accidentally nudged the straps and the bag happened to fall open on the floor, well, that would be OK, wouldn’t it? It was pretty much what had happened to her dad yesterday when Nancy had been knocked down by that boy on the bike and he’d had to gather up everything that had spilled out of her bag. He’d told her all about having to scoop tampons out of the gutter.

Double-checking that the coast was still clear, Mia gave the handbag straps a casual nudge. Then, when that didn’t dislodge the straps, a bigger nudge. Oh, for heaven’s sake, were they superglued on? Impatiently she lifted them over the coat hook, let the bag drop to the floor and . . . bingo!

The sound of footsteps made Mia jump. She froze as someone in stilettos tip-tapped across the parquet floor between the living room and the kitchen. Hastily, Mia slid into the under-stairs cupboard and pulled the door almost shut behind her. Moments later the doorbell rang, giving her another shock.

Then . . . click went the door as Connor closed it. Mia, inside the cupboard, was abruptly plunged into darkness. How she was going to get out again she had no idea; there was no handle on her side of the door.

Oh well, look on the bright side, at least she had privacy now. Her dad was opening the front door; she could just about hear him greeting some late arrival or other. Feeling about in the dark, Mia located the light switch. As light flooded the interior of the cupboard, she smiled down at the handbag on the floor and made herself comfortable on a crate of books. It was actually quite cosy in here, like playing house as a child.