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Authors: Jenny Colgan

Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend (8 page)

BOOK: Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend
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‘Sure. Why do you want to move into this shit hole?’ he asked, in a pleasant tone of voice.
 
‘
Cal
,’ said Eck. ‘Can you be nice, please? You keep scaring people off.’
 
‘Not much scares me,’ I said, flirtily. Then I realised I was surprised at myself. Post Daddy and Rufus I hadn’t really thought I’d ever be capable of flirting again.
 
‘Really? Not even slugs?’ said Cal, flicking on the kettle.
 
‘Slugs!’ agreed Wolverine, a hairy hand scrabbling in a bag of sugar cubes before grabbing some and stuffing them in his gob.
 
I glanced at Eck. ‘You’ve got slugs?’
 
He rolled his eyes at Cal. ‘Stop talking about slugs.’ ‘Um, that wasn’t a no,’ I pointed out. It was gradually becoming clear why this flat was still available. That Cal guy was hot though.
 
‘We had
a
slug,’ said Eck. ‘OK, two slugs.’
 
‘And when two slugs get together . . . a little music, a little wine, a bit of romance . . . many little slugs,’ said Cal. ‘Don’t rent out the room, Eck.’
 
‘James says it’s fine.’
 
‘James likes to sleep in a trench with sixteen other boys all masturbating into the same sock.’
 
Eck looked at me with a disappointed look on his face, as if he completely understood why I was about to run from the flat with my tail between my legs. He probably thought this was about the worst thing that had ever happened to me.
 
‘D’you want to see the rest of the flat then?’ he asked in a slightly defeated tone of voice.
 
‘Sure,’ I said brightly. All the boys looked surprised.
 
‘Right. I’m going to tell her about the snake,’ said Cal.
 
‘Snake!’ said Wolverine.
 
‘There
really
isn’t a snake,’ said Eck, half-smiling. ‘I promise.’
 
‘You didn’t mention a snake in the ad,’ I said.
 
‘There
isn’t
a snake!’ said Eck. ‘Cal! Admit you were telling a lie.’
 
Cal rolled his eyes. ‘There isn’t a snake,’ he said. ‘
Yet
. But I’m getting one. Probably. Tomorrow. Just to have lying about. Do you still want to move in?’
 
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘I need a new python handbag.’
 
There was silence and I wondered if I’d gone too far. Then Eck laughed.
 
‘OK! Look,’ he said, turning to Cal. ‘We don’t have enough money to give Wolverine a room of his own for free. We just can’t do it. We have to rent it out.’
 
I watched as Wolverine tipped the last of the sugar into his mouth.
 
‘That’ll give you worms,’ said Eck.
 
‘He’s already got worms,’ said Cal. ‘Eck,
please
don’t make me share with Wolverine any more.’
 
‘If you can pay for it, you can have it,’ said Eck. ‘I’m sorry. That’s what it boils down to.’
 
‘Money,’ said Cal. ‘No one with any artistic integrity has any money.’
 
I wondered what Julius Mandinski would say to that. He was reported to own a huge penthouse in Shad Thames and a chalet in Gstaad. But Cal had already flounced out.
 
Eck led me out of the kitchen and along the dank landing. Various boyish smells emanated from different rooms, which I tried manfully to ignore.
 
‘Here’s the bathroom,’ he said, pulling on a string without a handle, and setting off the world’s loudest extractor fan. It clattered madly into life.
 
‘It’s a big noisy,’ he howled unnecessarily over the din. ‘Normally I just pee in the dark.’
 
I peered into the windowless room to see an orange suite, every available space was piled high with nearly empty bottles of shower gel and gummy razors.
 
‘Is there an en suite?’ I screamed back. He looked at me in consternation as I considered miming it, then decided against it, and we moved on. But the truth of it became increasingly clear.
 
‘Is . . . is that the only bathroom?’ I asked, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be. With one, two, three, four . . . well, three men and one feral
thing
living here . . . plus me . . . it couldn’t be the only bathroom, could it?
 
Eck flashed me a quick half-smile. ‘Yeah, we need to do shifts in the morning.’
 
‘You do
what
in the morning?’ I said, mishearing him. ‘Oh. Oh.’
 
Finally we stopped at the end of the landing. Perhaps it wouldn’t be as bad as the rest of the place. Maybe it would be a nice bright room that I could put a feminine stamp on and it would be like Katy’s sick room in
What Katy Did
, a nice bright place for people to come and have a nice time and . . .
 
Eck opened the door. Oh.
 
I tried to get myself not to say it, but it just blurted out.
 
‘This is . . . this is like a prison cell.’
 
‘People keep saying that,’ said Eck. ‘Is it the metal sink?’
 
‘Or the bars on the windows.’
 
‘Well, yes, because it’s at the front . . .’
 
‘I see. Noisy, is it?’
 
A huge cement lorry rumbled past, followed by a car transporter. Both honked venomously for no apparent reason.
 
‘Um . . .’
 
The room contained one single bed with a metal frame; a cheap MDF bedside table; the metal sink (why? Why?) and one cheap MDF wardrobe with one door hanging askew. And some dust on the horrid fuchsia-coloured carpet. And that was it. That was absolutely all there was. It wasn’t just the ugliest room I’d ever seen in my life (I
had
been to boarding school); it was the ugliest
thing
I’d ever seen in my life.
 
‘Actually,’ said Eck. ‘We have had a couple of people who do want to rent it. You shouldn’t listen to Cal.’
 
‘Really?’
 
‘Sure. Lots of people have never had a bedroom to themselves before.’
 
I thought of my lovely suite of rooms at home; my four-poster bed, my bath set in the centre of the bathroom, overflowing with Jo Malone suds. No crying. No crying. No crying. Six months, six months, six months. Princess, princess, princess. Be strong. And what were my alternatives?
 
‘I’ll take it, please,’ I said, quickly and loudly, so that my voice wouldn’t crack, and before I had the chance to change my mind. It was a step on the road. Despite the hideousness of it all, it was a step on the road. I felt a tiny flicker of satisfaction. It wouldn’t be for long. Eck seemed nice. Cal didn’t, but he certainly improved the view.
 
‘Really?’ said Eck. ‘Great! Great! Let’s go into the sitting room to sort things out.’
 
‘Over tea?’ I said.
 
He thought about it for a moment.
 
‘There is going to have to be a time when you have your first cup of tea here,’ he said finally.
 
‘I know,’ I said.
 
‘If you just hold your nose to begin with, it’s not so bad.’
 
‘Unless you get a slug.’
 
‘Yeah. God, I wish Cal hadn’t mentioned the slugs. Could you forget about them?’
 
‘Could you knock something off the rent?’
 
‘Ah,’ he said.
 
We headed back to the kitchen. It looked out over a car park where some kids who I thought should have been in school were desultorily kicking a ball around. I looked again at the mismatched chairs around the rickety table.
 
‘That’s pretty cool,’ I said, still up for making a good impression. ‘The vintage “salvaged” look.’
 
Eck looked a bit pained. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘It is salvage. You’ve got to be fast to get to the skips round here.’
 
‘Oh, yes, definitely,’ I agreed.
 
Eck tried to push a copy of
Front
magazine, showing a pair of naked girls holding motorbike helmets over their boobs, behind a dirty-looking teapot. It only really drew attention to it. ‘Well. Anyway.’
 
I crouched nervously on the stool as Eck did some paperworky things.
 
‘Why do you live here, Eck?’ I asked suddenly.
 
He looked up, surprised. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Well, I’m a student. Obviously. Why else would I be at home at eleven in the morning?’
 
Everyone I knew was generally at home at eleven in the morning, I realised. It wasn’t that unusual to me.
 
‘I’m at the art college down the road. Goldsmiths.’
 
‘Oh, are you an artist?’
 
There wasn’t a single picture up on the walls anywhere, just a calendar hanging in the bathroom. For 2003. I thought artists lived in quaint garrets in Paris with large easels set up and the Eiffel Tower nice and visible through the balcony windows. Ooh, when I got my inheritance maybe I’d get somewhere like that and set it up as a photographic studio. I was almost veering off again when I realised Eck was still talking.
 
‘I’d like to be. I work in metal.’
 
‘Really? Can I see something you’ve done?’
 
Eck looked pleased, but awkward. ‘Not at the moment. They’re all at college. They’re about nine metres long. I’m going through a bit of a spider phase.’
 
‘Ah, a spider phase,’ I said sagely, nodding my head, as if it was a well-recognised artist’s path. Maybe it was. Not for the first time, I cursed myself for not paying more attention at school.
 
‘Cal’s at art college too. He’s a sculptor as well.’
 
Ooh, this was looking up. Suddenly I saw us all at a glamorous opening (somewhat dressed up) with someone saying, ‘And of course, the Old Kent Road school very much used Sophia Chesterton as a muse . . .’
 
‘And Wolverine . . . he’s just . . . I don’t know where he came from actually. A lot of flats have someone like that, don’t you find?’
 
I had not found. In my limited experience, someone you didn’t know very well living in your house did nice things for you, like your laundry, or getting you a frappucino when you had a hangover.
 
Eck bent his head over his papers again and cleared his throat a little nervously. My dad always did say Limeys were funny talking about money.
 
‘So. It’s six hundred quid a month for the room. So I’ll need that and the deposit, and did you bring references? ’
 
I looked at him. What was he talking about, deposit?
 
‘What do you mean, “deposit”?’ I said.
 
‘You do know,’ said Eck, looking slightly embarrassed. ‘You have to leave an amount of money with the landlord in case you break stuff or mess up the flat.’
 
Shit. Shit, I hadn’t known that. Why hadn’t I known that? Did everyone else know all this stuff? Did everyone get a handbook when they turned eighteen and I hadn’t been paying attention that day?
 
‘Uh,’ I said. Then I just said what was on my mind.
 
‘Eck, really - how could I break stuff or mess up this flat?’ I said. ‘I don’t have a deposit. I’ve got six hundred pounds. For now. Then next month I’ll have it again. Definitely.’
 
I tried to say ‘definitely’ with as much honest confidence as I could muster. If I could get a flat, I could get my old job back, couldn’t I? Couldn’t I?
 
But I wasn’t lying about the money. That really was it. I couldn’t put any more down. I just couldn’t.
 
Eck looked really pained. Which was good. At least he wasn’t going to hurl me out on the street. I felt my heart beating hard.
 
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘have you never rented a flat before?’
 
I shook my head, mutely. Eck excused himself, and disappeared into the hallway. I hoped and hoped that this was a good sign, that he would be able to sort something out. Because if he couldn’t . . .
 
I crept to the sitting room doorway, but I could just hear a discussion going on between Cal and Eck, with occasional grunting from Wolverine. I went back to my seat and closed my eyes. Just don’t send me away, please. Because I really, and truly, had nowhere else to go.
BOOK: Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend
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