by Shari Low
‘LOU-LOU BABY!!!!!!’
That would be my other best friend then. And holy Mariah Carey, she looked stunning.
Her hair fell down her back to her waist and was as wide as it was long. And hello boys, her boobs had come courtesy of either a plastic surgeon or one of those new Wonderbras, because they formed a gloriously sexy shelf, which you could perch a pint on. They were barely contained by a chain-mail strapless, skintight mini-dress, which jangled as she walked. She looked every inch the star. A huge surge of pride welled up as I threw my arms around her and, at that moment, I wouldn’t have minded if everyone else evaporated and just Lizzy, Ginger and I could kick off our sparkly high heels, collapse on the staffroom sofas and catch up properly for the first time in . . . Bloody hell, had it really been months since we spent any proper time together? Lizzy and I had travelled to all of Ginger’s gigs when work/life/transport/ dosh would allow, but an hour or so of snatched conversation before she got back in her van and left for the next venue just didn’t cut it. Maybe after everyone had left we could head back home and have an all-night gossip catch-up.
A shriek came from behind me and I swayed to one side to avoid being trampled by an oncoming gazelle on a mission to hug the new arrival. There was no doubt that premature deafness and spending my senior years using the most powerful hearing aids on earth would be the price I would pay for being friends with Lizzy.
‘Listen, I can’t stay long because we have to be in Edinburgh by midnight. I’ve got a PA at Stomp!’ Ginger blurted, grabbing two glasses of champagne from a nearby counter.
‘PA?’ I could almost hear Lizzy’s mind whirring.
‘Personal appearance,’ Ginger clarified.
So much for our Friday Girl’s Night in. But hey, she was here now and that’s all that was important.
‘So what do you want me to do?’ she asked, placing an empty glass on the nearby counter.
‘Do? Nothing. I just want you here, and maybe get a pic taken for the local paper.’
‘So who’s giving the speeches?’
No, no, no, no. No speeches. People came, saw the salon, had a drink, maybe a wee dance to the music, left. No speeches. Definitely no speeches. The thought of a room full of people all staring at me waiting for me to say something wonderfully witty filled me with horror. I even got nervous reading out jokes from Christmas crackers.
My blank expression obviously registered with her.
‘Lou, you have to make this a night to remember. Give people something to talk about.’
‘She’s right,’ Lizzy concurred. ‘There should definitely be speeches.’
‘Hang on, let me sort it.’ Ginger spun on her six-inch steel heels, with only a slight wobble, and headed off in the direction of the DJ.
OK, I could handle this. If Ginger wanted to give a short speech to thank everyone for coming that was fine. Great. It would even raise the ‘trendy’ level a little, having a rising star officially opening the business. Yep, a speech could work. A short, light-hearted, dignified few words would be . . . oh bugger.
‘Excuse me everyone!’ A set of silver knickers flashed the whole salon as Ginger, the DJ’s microphone in hand, clambered up on to the top of the reception desk. The crowd expressed their approval with a round of applause and a chorus of wolf whistles.
Ginger found her footing and gave a small bow, sending the audience into another round of appreciation.
‘Thank you, thank you!’ She grinned, completely unaware that the small bow had slightly dislodged the mighty bosoms and they were now making their own personal appearance.
Out of the corner of my eye I spotted Vic, utterly transfixed at the sight in front of him. I even had the cheek to be mildly irked by his reaction. I know. Pot. Kettle. Other boyfriend standing thirty feet away.
‘I’d just like to say a few words on behalf of my gorgeous pal and owner of this lovely place, LouLouLouLouLou, because, er, she’s a bit shy and I’ve always been the mouthy one.’
Everyone laughed as they warmed to her self-deprecating charm. Maybe this would be fine. Fine. It would be fine.
‘First of all, thank you all for coming.’
More woops and hollers.
‘On behalf of Lou –’ she paused to give me an exaggerated wink ‘– I’d like to thank everyone who worked on CUT.’
Aw, that’s nice. OK, stop there.
‘So that means huge thanks to Josie!’ Dear Lord, don’t let her mention the loan.
Over at the window Josie took an exaggerated bow before, mercifully, Ginger moved on.
‘And my big shag of a brother – not to me, obviously ’cause that would be weird – Red!’
Out of the corner of my eye I could see that Red’s face now matched his hair.
‘And who else do I need to mention?’ Ginger looked over to me. ‘Parents? Boyfriend?’ she said in an exaggerated stage whisper. I tried to shake my head with as little movement as possible, just enough to make her stop. All at once I had a horrible feeling that this was not going to end well.
Another stage whisper. ‘What? Just boyfriend?’
Nooooooo. But clearly, I didn’t have the bottle to say that out loud so she charged on regardless. ‘Dan? Where are you Dan? Take a bow, you big suave devil.’ Ginger tottered on her heels as she bent down, grabbed her glass and drained it.
Behind me Lizzy whispered, ‘Oh shit.’
I, meanwhile, was a little preoccupied watching my life flashing in front of my eyes. Vic! Where was Vic? Dear God, please make him be in the toilet. Or outside recovering from his near brush with Lizzy’s genital area. Or . . .
‘Lou?’
Right next to me.
I slowly turned my head to the right to see a stricken face that definitely now looked absolutely nothing like Tom Cruise.
‘I’m . . . I’m . . . sorry, Vic, but . . .’
He didn’t even stop to listen to the rest and I didn’t blame him. Even I could hear that guilt oozed from every word.
The only blessing was that Dan was at the other end of the salon, down nearer the door, and was oblivious to the drama. Vic moved through the crowd, all of whom were still staring at Ginger, who had moved on to an impromptu a cappella rendition of her new song.
The shop. The gathering. My best friend up there belting her heart out. Sure, the half-visible knockers detracted slightly from the ambience but nevertheless this would have been a truly special moment in my life if it wasn’t for the fact that my stomach was now somewhere around my knees and I felt like a complete cow. Suddenly the whole double-date thing didn’t seem like quite the great idea that it had been an hour ago.
‘I should go after . . .’ Lizzy’s arm shot out and grabbed mine, holding me back. ‘No, Lizzy, I should. I need to explain to him.’
I had to get to him before he left. Right now he was probably shocked, but perhaps anger hadn’t set in yet and there was still time to explain and talk to him before he escalated to completely furious or irrevocably hurt.
He was twenty feet from the door now. Fifteen. I could still get to him. The whole scene was playing out as if it were in slow motion as he got to ten feet, eight . . .
Now he was right next to Dan. Right next to Dan. Oh shit, he was right next to Dan.
The push took everyone by surprise, most of all Dan who was now moving speedily in an unexpected direction with an expression that sat somewhere between stunned, confused and totally pissed off.
Drinks flew. The people that Dan crashed into shouted their outrage. Some pushed back. Dan’s friends stepped in. The jostling escalated. Oh crap, this couldn’t get any worse. The only blessing was that Vic hadn’t stuck around and was now out of the door.
Like a rabbit in the headlights, I completely froze. Rushing towards the melee wouldn’t solve anything, but someone had to stop it. It was getting worse now, more and more people getting involved, while Ginger carried on singing, one glass of champagne past the point of oblivion.
My whole night was going to
hell in an elevator and it was all my fault and I had no idea how to stop it. Suddenly, like a red flash of middle-aged superhero, Josie realised what was going on behind her and turned, inserted two fingers in her mouth and gave out the most deafening whistle I’d ever heard. The result was twofold. On the floor, the jostling and fighting stopped. On top of the reception desk, Ginger, momentarily disorientated by the interruption swayed precariously forwards. Red reached out to steady her, saving her from a repeat performance of the body surfing from Top of the Pops.
Meanwhile, Josie grabbed Dan and one of his pals and pushed them towards the door. Dan knew better than to argue. He didn’t even turn around, just stormed out, no doubt furious that his impeccably pressed suit was now sporting a large purple damp patch after a meeting with a Dubonnet and blackcurrant.
As he went through the door, I saw him turn to the side. He’d changed his mind. He was going to come back and look for me, object to being huckled out for something that clearly wasn’t his fault.
I’d apologise, we’d laugh, it would all be forgotten and he would never find out who the weird guy that sent him sprawling was. It would all blow over. But . . .
No. Just when the gods had obviously decided that this wasn’t enough of a roaring fuck-up for one night, I realised that Dan had paused to let in two new attendees to the soiree.
Maw and Paw Cairney had joined the party. I felt Lizzy’s hand tighten even more around mine, her support clear with just that little gesture.
‘What are my parents doing here? How did they even know about this?’ Not telling them had been deliberate. Not particularly charitable, but deliberate. For a start, neither of them had been in the least interested in what I was doing. And, on top of that, the combination of my dad and free drink could only lead to disaster and, let’s face it, I was managing to attract that without any help. Oh fuck, this night definitely could not get any worse now. It couldn’t.
It could. My mum and dad were making a beeline for me and there was nowhere to hide. Not that there was any huge amount of bad feeling between us. In fact, the opposite was true. Whereas some parents might have been devastated that their sixteen-year-old had moved out, it transpired that mine were actually pretty pleased. My dad was thrilled that he had my mother’s complete devotion, he didn’t have to fork out a penny on supporting his pesky offspring and they had complete freedom to up sticks and go for all the romantic weekends they could muster. My mother was now free to devote herself entirely to her husband and didn’t have to deal with another female who patently disapproved of how she chose to live her life. And me? Well, at least I wasn’t hanging around where I wasn’t wanted. I occasionally popped back for birthdays and the occasional impromptu visit – although that backfired at Christmas because they rented a chalet in the Alps and took off for a week and forgot to tell me. I only got back to Josie’s in time for a handful of Brussels sprouts and three chipolatas.
‘Well done, Lou. You’ve done a fantastic job here.’ Oh shit, was she being sarcastic? Did she know we’d committed fraud with her bank book? Was she about to deliver a sucker punch and call in the serious crime squad?
‘Thanks, Mum.’ I gave her an uncomfortable hug, before something blatantly obvious convinced me she was serious – my dad looked completely pissed off. God, he hated not being the centre of attention. As quickly as I realised it, my mum spotted it too.
‘I think,’ she blurted, ‘that you definitely got your dad’s creativity and entrepreneurial side.’
And there it was. Of course. All this was down to his brilliance. It had to be. I should have realised it before now.
I’ll never know how I would have reacted because right at that moment events were taken out of my hands.
‘Della, good manners have always stopped me saying this, but you’re a complete arse to that girl.’ Yes, Josie had something to say and she wouldn’t be stopped. ‘And, as for you, sunshine –’ she gave my dad her stare of death ‘– this has absolutely fuck all to do with you. Nothing. That girl hasn’t inherited a single one of your genes because if she had she’d be a selfish, self-centred cow with an ego the size of the roundabout at the end of the High Street. Everyone clear? Good. Now, Lou, I believe Lizzy needs a wee sit down in the staffroom because – sorry, Liz, don’t take offence – she’s looking a bit strange.’
Just as Josie said it, I felt Lizzy’s hand tighten even more on mine.
Thank you, God, for giving me pregnant pals to act as decoys in times of family strife.
‘Lou, I’m . . .’ Lizzy stuttered.
Here for you? Coming with you? Ready and waiting with love and support in your hour of need? Well, this was definitely one of those and . . . Ouch! The hand that held mine suddenly spun me round and there was a dramatic shriek to go with it.
Lizzy was bent over double now, clutching her side, her face disturbingly close to the shade of Josie’s salon gowns.
‘Lizzy!’ I gasped, falling to my knees in front of her, automatically pushing her hair back from her face. ‘What is it? Are you OK?’
In hindsight, it wasn’t one of my more intelligent moments.
‘No, you daft boot,’ she half wailed, half screeched. ‘Get. Me. To. The. Hospital. Or. I’m Giving. Birth. On. Your. New. Floor.’
As I screamed for help in a manner that would make my sweating, heavy-breathing friend incredibly proud, I realised that there was one inescapable conclusion.
People were definitely going to have something to talk about tomorrow.
Fifteen
Lou
The St Kentigern Hotel, Glasgow. Saturday morning, 1am.
‘Sometimes I wish I could go right back to that moment,’ Lizzy said wistfully.
I recoiled in horror. ‘What? When your waters broke all over my floor and you managed, by a stroke of sheer genius, to ruin my dad’s new canvas shoes?’
‘Don’t know what he was thinking – fucking espadrilles at his age,’ Ginger mused, quite correctly.
‘No, just to that time in general,’ Lizzy said and, despite the fact that we were over a decade down the line, there was still a sadness in her voice. ‘When I knew nothing about what was going to happen. I was clueless, I really was. There hadn’t been any signs. Adam was behaving completely normally. Nothing made me suspicious at all. I know you find that hard to believe but I honestly didn’t see it coming.’
‘Don’t beat yourself up, honey,’ I told her. ‘None of us did.’
‘Well . . .’ Ginger spoke and I cut her off with a swift ‘Shut up or I’ll tell the barman to stop serving you.’
And as if by magic, she was silent.
‘OK, you’re forgiven,’ I told her. ‘Order up another round and I’ll be back in a minute. Just need to phone home and check in.’
‘Give them our love,’ Ginger said as I slipped out of the booth.
As I stepped outside the front doors, the cold air and silence were a relief after the heat and noise of the bar. The concierge asked if I wanted a cab. ‘Thanks, but I’m just out to make a quick call,’ I said, holding up my phone as evidence and earning another friendly smile in response.
I held down the H key on my BlackBerry and it rang almost immediately. One ring. Two rings. Three. I could guess exactly how tonight had played out at home. Cassie had begged her dad to let her watch a movie on the TV in our room, they’d snuggled up and before they’d got to the bit where the large green ogre won the day, they’d both fallen asleep and were now cuddled up, snoring peacefully. I had a sudden longing to be there with them.
‘Hi.’ I heard my own voice. ‘Sorry we can’t answer. Please leave a message and we’ll get back to you.’
‘Hey, it’s just me. I miss you guys. Hope –’
A couple of clicks cut into my message, followed by a sleepy ‘Hello.’
‘I’m guessing you fell asleep. Shrek 2?’ I asked softly. He would hear the smile in my voice.
‘The Princess Diaries. It’s my choice tomorrow night and I’ve got Monsters, Inc.
all lined up and ready. How you doing? Having a good night?’
‘Really good. Reminiscing.’
‘Oh God, drunk women reminiscing. Suddenly The Princess Diaries seems like the better deal. I thought you lot only talked about celebrities and shopping.’
‘Nope, we just tell you that so you won’t get insecure and think we’re talking about you.’
He laughed, setting off another pang of homesickness. I knew it was ridiculous. I was the very woman who would shout at the telly when reality TV contestants cried because they missed their mothers after they’d been away from home for an hour and a half.
‘I miss you,’ he murmured.
‘I miss you too.’ There was a pause. ‘Have you asked them yet?’
‘No, not yet. Hasn’t been the right moment. But I will . . .’
‘Honey, are you sure you’re up to this?’
‘I’m sure.’
‘OK, love, go back to the party. I’ll tell Cassie you called in the morning.’
‘Tell her I love her.’
‘I will.’
Sixteen
Lou
1996 – Aged 26
‘Avril, can you do Stacey’s shampoo up at the basins, then go clear up the staffroom, then come back and sort out the roller drawers, please?’
My little cousin adopted the kind of sneer that lead singer from Oasis would be proud of as she turned on her bright-pink, rubber-soled platforms, flicked back her black, bottom-skimming ponytail and strutted off in her leopard-print Lycra leggings.
Up at the sinks, I heard her greet one of our regulars with the kind of superior customer service I’d come to expect.
‘Right, Fatty, budge up and tip your head back and, no, I don’t care if you’ve got any holidays booked.’
‘Sorry, Stacey!’ I yelled. ‘I fire her every week but she just keeps coming back.’
