Jenny Colgan - Talking to Addison

Shit; I’d forgotten all about it.

‘Mmmm … maybe.’ I surreptitiously checked round the outside of my mouth in case there was any chocolate left there from last night.

‘You’re in trouble.’

‘OK, OK, I’ll just go out and get her one.’

‘It’s too late. Plus, she knows it’s a blue one. I’d make myself scarce, if I were you.’

Unfortunately I wasn’t working that night and, annoyingly, felt that cold thing you get in the pit of your stomach when you know you’re going to get into trouble later.

‘Argh! I am not in trouble! I am going to go out now and buy her fifteen Penguin biscuits and … and make her eat herself to death like in Seven . I am NOT going to let her intimidate me like this. She is so damn ANAL about everything.’

‘Which is why she’s one of the best corporate raiders under thirty in London –’

‘Just under thirty.’

‘I know what she’s like. Be nice to her. She has it hard enough at work. Everyone is really mean to her.’

‘Ooh, gossip? ’Fess up.’

Josh was an indefatigable gossip, although he wouldn’t thank you for pointing out this particular trait.

‘Well, she just has an overwhelming inability to spot married guys. I mean, they can have a bloody suntan ring round their fourth finger and Kate believes them when they say it’s impetigo. And she’s seeing this guy now who only phones her in two-minute bursts from call boxes at eleven thirty at night, and they do a lot of their dating in their lunch hours … Any day now she’s going to find out he’s another louse. Deep down, I think she realizes they are and it’s all a big psychological mishmash.’

‘Wow,’ I said, nodding thoughtfully. ‘That whole big psychological mishmash thing.’

And we each thought about our own for a second or two.

‘So,’ I resumed, ‘she’s grouchy all the time and it’s not my fault.’

‘I don’t think she’s that happy at having another woman around the flat.’

‘I’m not exactly a threat,’ I said, looking down at where the button should have been on my pyjamas. Fortunately, I’d known Josh a long time.

‘It’s not that. It’s a territorial thing.’

I grunted. ‘What, like cats have? I thought there was a funny smell in my room. Maybe she’s pissed in it.’

‘Ssh,’ said Josh, as we heard the door open.

‘Shit! I’ve forgotten to go out and get the Penguins!’

He winced at me as Kate did her normal arrival routine: an enormous sigh, an elaborate dumping of her expensive accoutrements, and a full-body lunge for the bottle opener.

Josh winked at me, and I smiled manfully.

‘Hey, Kate, how’s it going?’

‘Shit! Holly, did you eat my Penguin?’

I cringed, which wasn’t what was supposed to happen. I was supposed to say something along the lines of, ‘Yeah – do ya wanna make somethin’ of it?’ and spit on the floor. Instead of which I said, ‘Yes. Look, Kate, I’m really sorry, I’ll buy you some more.’

‘No, it’s fine,’ she sniffed, LYING. ‘I’ve only been out working for twelve hours, slaving over a huge offshore investment, which is almost entirely my responsibility, something unheard of for someone under thirty …’

‘Just …’ I said, under my breath.

‘… why on earth should I want or deserve a little bit of relaxation, which I’ve already bought and paid for, when I come home exhausted? I’m silly, really. I should just give it up and mess about with flowers and eat other people’s Penguins all day long.’

She picked up the wine bottle and retreated from the room, continuing, ‘Really, I must just be so, so selfish.’

Once she’d gone I beckoned to Josh.

‘Hand me that bread knife.’

‘Now, you remember what I said …’

‘I heard what you said, and now I am going to kill her with a knife. GIVE it to me.’

‘No.’

‘I’m sorry. I don’t think you understand the situation: I am going to have to kill Kate with a knife, and I’m asking you to pass it to me.’

‘Sit down,’ he said, handing me a plate of couscous. ‘Ignore it. What else was Addison saying?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Don’t sulk.’

‘No, I mean it. Actually, nothing. Has he ever spoken to you?’

‘Not really. He just turned up when we put the ad in, and he’d brought so much computer equipment we didn’t have the heart to send him away again. Plus, Kate thought he was cute.’

‘He’s better than cute. Oh, did she try and pull him and fail?’ I asked eagerly.

‘No, she tried talking to him for ten minutes then ran out of attention span. Plus, also, he didn’t show any of the normal signs of bastardy.’

‘Ah, ooh, she is just SUCH a cow!’ I exclaimed again.

‘She’s fine. Now, go out and buy the biscuits.’

‘What! After all that – you must be joking.’

‘Unless you want “all that” every night for the rest of your life, I would go and buy the biscuits.’

‘Fine, fine, fine. I will go and buy the biscuits. Then, I will pee on the biscuits.’

I ended up heading to the gigantic supermarket which is open all night, all the time. I think they keep the staff caged there, like animals. They all have rickets from being out of natural light for so long.

I hate supermarkets. I can stand for hours in the shampoo section, stymied. Should I be putting fruit in my hair? What will happen if I don’t? What is shampoo, anyway? Are there any more foods just out there waiting to be discovered? Etc, etc. As usual, it took me three hours to collect a more or less random selection of products, plus fourteen packets of Penguins. I’d wanted Josh to come with me or, ideally, volunteer to do it himself, but he’d started to get a bit shifty and got out work files to do stern lawyer stuff with – like, as if.

Finally I wandered home, feeling a bit mournful and stopping to put my bags down every five minutes.

When I walked in, the house was very quiet. Josh was locked away in his room – I hoped it was with his Playstation – and Addison had disappeared. I had never even seen him go to the toilet. I liked that. He was too unearthly for bodily functions. Men, or at least the ones I’ve always known, think that it’s endearing to you if they fart a lot. Addison wouldn’t be like that. And then, they’d smell of angel dew.

Feeling mildly nauseous, I backed my way into the kitchen with my sixteen bags, swung them round to dump them on the table and accidentally clobbered Kate on the side of the head. With the one with the tin cans in.

‘Ow!’ she growled at me.

‘I’m sorry,’ I cringed, though I wasn’t really. But I didn’t want her to think I’d done it on purpose.

‘I didn’t do it on purpose!’

‘Oh, forget it,’ she said.

I did a mental double take. That didn’t sound like Kate. Surely she should be demanding my first-born child and threatening to take me to court.

‘Really, I am sorry,’ I said again, putting the rest of the bags down. I saw her properly for the first time. Her eyes were all red, and she was doing the giveaway, back-of-the-mouth sniff. As a world-class crier myself, I knew what had been going on.

‘Are you OK?’ I asked, as sincerely as I could, which of course meant it came out sounding like I was a confessional TV host.

‘I’m fine, really.’ She sniffed properly, and patted down her immaculately glossy hair. Now, there was someone who knew a bit about shampoo.

I started to unpack the shopping.

‘What’s the matter?’ I asked, casually, as if I was a trained counsellor and did this kind of thing all the time.

‘Nothing … nothing. Oh GOD.’ Her face completely collapsed into tears. ‘I HATE him. I really, really, really, really HATE him! And he doesn’t even CARE!’