Chapter 34
Sixteen B, Arnold Street, was the third flat they visited and Carmen knew at once that this was the one.
‘Yes,’ she said, gazing with satisfaction around the living room. ‘This is it. It’s perfect.’
Nancy was gazing worriedly up at the ceiling. ‘Are you sure?’
OK, it wasn’t perfect, but it suited Carmen’s needs and wasn’t completely grotesque. They were in a quiet backstreet of Battersea and the landlord had assured her that the neighbours kept themselves to themselves. The first-floor flat comprised a tiny kitchen, an even tinier bathroom, one bedroom and a living room that looked out over the street. The decor was tatty, with floral wallpaper peeling at the edges. The last person to have wielded a paintbrush appeared to have bought a job lot of tester pots and painted each floorboard a different colour. The window frames were rotting, the furniture was mismatched and shabby, and bare bulbs dangled sadly from every light fitting. But there was a new white bathroom suite, which was a comfort, and the kitchen was reasonably clean. With a bit of luck there wouldn’t be rats lurking in the cupboard under the sink.
Nancy was still peering in fascination at the multi-stained ceiling. ‘It’s like a map of Europe up there. Look, there’s Spain. And there’s a mushroom!’
It wasn’t a mushroom, it was a frilly-edged patch of fungus.
‘I’ll give the whole place a proper clean,’ Carmen said happily. ‘Buy some lampshades and rugs, make it homely. It’ll be great.’ She went through to the kitchen, where the landlord was reading an old Evening Standard and smoking a cigarette. ‘I’ll take it.’
He yawned. ‘Five hundred quid deposit and first month’s rent in advance.’
Carmen nodded and signed the rental agreement he spread out in front of her. She handed over the money in cash and watched the man’s bald head gleam in the reflected light from the bare bulb directly above him as he wrote out a receipt. He lived downstairs and seemed entirely uninterested in his new tenant, which suited Carmen down to the ground.
Finally he passed her the front door keys and they shook hands.
‘And keep the noise down,’ he said tetchily. ‘You don’t look noisy, but you never can tell. Any racket and you’ll be out on your ear. Got that?’
‘Got it. And in return I’d appreciate total privacy,’ said Carmen pleasantly. ‘I won’t be living here full-time. In fact I may not be staying here much at all. But when I am here, and friends come to visit, I don’t want them to know that. Basically, you don’t even need to speak to them.’
The landlord eyed her with suspicion. ‘You on the game?’
‘No. And I’m not a drug dealer.’ Carmen smiled. ‘It’s just . . . for personal reasons.’
‘I don’t want any trouble. No police, no ambulances screaming up the street.’ He wagged a plump warning finger at her and repeated, ‘I won’t have trouble in this house.’
‘I’ll be the quietest tenant you ever had. There won’t be any trouble,’ said Carmen. ‘I promise.’
‘He thinks you’re married and having an affair,’ said Nancy. ‘That’s why he went on about police and ambulances. He’s worried that your jealous husband might find out and come storming round with a shotgun.’
They had found a quiet table in the Queen’s Head, on the corner of Arnold Street. A traditional working-class pub, it made a nice change from the trendy, done-up-to-the-nines wine bars of Chelsea. Carmen, tearing open a packet of smoky bacon crisps with her teeth, said, ‘If Spike could see what I was doing, he’d laugh his head off. Renting a flat just so I can pretend to be poor. Do you think I’m barking mad?’
‘Not really.’ Innocently Nancy said, ‘Why don’t you tell me a bit more about Nick?’
Carmen’s eyes darted guiltily to her glass of red wine. ‘Nick?’
‘Nick-from-work. Nick-and-Annie Nick. The Nick you’re doing all of this for,’ Nancy reminded her, ‘despite not finding him even remotely attractive.’
‘Oh, that Nick.’ Taking a huge gulp of wine, Carmen spilled some down the front of her orange T-shirt.
‘The one you thought wasn’t single, but now it turns out he is. And you don’t fancy him, he’s just a really nice person you enjoy being with.’
‘He is. I do. He’s a friend,’ Carmen protested, mopping at her front with a tissue. ‘And you have an evil mind.’
‘Excuse me, can we just cast our minds - evil or otherwise - back a bit? Remember when we used to walk through the park on our way home from school and Spike Todd used to try to run us over on his pushbike? And he used to tease you about your haircut?’
‘Witch,’ said Carmen.
‘And the next thing we knew, he’s got you riding around on the back of his bike and you’re laughing together and going to his house to listen to him play his guitar,’ Nancy continued remorselessly. ‘But when I asked you what was going on, you said, “Oh nothing, don’t be daft, Spike’s just a friend.”’
‘I’ve finished my drink.’ Carmen held up her empty glass. ‘Your round.’
‘So would Nick be that kind of friend?’
‘Shut up. I’m embarrassed.’
Nancy pulled a face. ‘Let me tell you, you don’t know the meaning of the word embarrassed. I had Sadie at the club last night telling me what a show I’ve been making of myself over Connor.’
‘Oh well, don’t take any notice of her.’ Carmen gestured dismissively with her bag of crisps. ‘She’s just jealous.’
Which wasn’t as reassuring as: Of course you haven’t been making a show of yourself. Nancy said with trepidation, ‘Have I? Oh God, has it been glaringly obvious?’
‘Nooo, not glaringly.’ Carmen was consoling. ‘I mean, I can tell you like him, because I know you. But it’s not as if you’ve been twirling your bra around your head and purring at him like Eartha Kitt. Anyway, men are so thick that if you aren’t a tiny bit obvious, they’ll never cotton on to the fact you like them.’
Oh hell. Nancy’s skin prickled with shame.
‘Anyway, forget Sadie,’ Carmen went on. ‘She’s been dumped by Connor and isn’t happy about it, that’s the only reason she had a go. But he’s a free agent now, and you get on brilliantly with Mia, so there’s absolutely no reason why you and Connor—’
‘OK, I haven’t told you the other embarrassing thing that happened last night. I overheard him and Mia talking in his office. Mia was saying pretty much the same thing. It isn’t going to happen.’
‘But—’
‘No, really, it’s never going to happen. I heard what Connor said.’ Nancy shuddered at the memory and glugged down her wine. ‘He doesn’t fancy me and that’s that. Really, nothing there. I’m a nice person, of course. He likes me as a friend. But that’s as far as it goes. I’m not the kind of girl he’d ever get involved with, because I’m not his type. Because basically, as far as Connor’s concerned, I’m just a clever old stick.’
Oops, she hadn’t meant to raise her voice that much. The pub had fallen silent. Even the group of teenagers clustered around the pool table had stopped playing. How to announce to the world that you really were a sad and lonely woman.
Obligingly, one of the teenagers called over, ‘Don’t worry, love, I’d give you one.’
Over at the bar, a middle-aged man said, ‘I wouldn’t say no to being beaten by a stick.’
Another of the teenagers began tapping his friend’s rear with a snooker cue, while his friend pulled Britney-type faces and bellowed, ‘Hit me, baby, one more time.’
So much for friendly local pubs. Carmen looked at Nancy.
‘Shall we not bother with that other drink?’
Naturally, everyone went, ‘Ooh,’ and ‘Ow,’ and hilariously clutched their backsides as Carmen and Nancy squeezed their way past them out of the pub.
On the pavement, Nancy exhaled slowly and said, ‘Thank goodness we went there. I feel so much better now.’
‘They were just having a bit of fun.’ Carmen gave her arm a squeeze. ‘I’m sorry about Connor.’
‘Life goes on.’ Nancy had already mentally steeled herself. ‘It would’ve been nice, but never mind. Connor can’t help having no taste when it comes to girls. Anyway, ready now?’
‘Ready for what?’
‘To admit that there might secretly be a bit of a spark going on between you and Nick?’
Carmen smiled. She knew when she was beaten. ‘OK. Maybe a bit of one.’
‘A baby spark,’ Nancy said encouragingly.
‘A sparkette,’ Carmen agreed, blushing under the street-lamp. ‘God, but what am I turning into? No men for three years, not a single hint of a man, and now all of a sudden I’m turning into Zsa-Zsa Gabor. First Joe, now Nick . . . I mean, is it my hormones, d’you think? Are they rampaging out of control?’
‘I think they’re just waking up after a long, long sleep. I think it’s great news.’ Winding her yellow scarf round her neck, Nancy said, ‘I especially think it’s a good job I got you away from the poor defenceless boys in that pub.’
