As happy as she was to be back in her old life, two staples were missing: Mel – and Skuttle. She couldn’t shake the sad truth that she was completely alone. She missed her best friend, and it seemed Skuttle had vanished. No Hunk of No Fixed Abode to perv at from her little window anymore. It was tragic.
All by myself, she crooned tunelessly at the scarred walls, a la Bridget Jones, Don’t wanna be . . . Wait a minute!
She sat up. There was no reason to be alone. Skuttle might be gone, but she and Mel could make up. They couldn’t let a man (if you could call Michel a man) keep them apart. They were better friends than that, weren’t they?
The next morning, full of determination, Jools got up off the blanket on the floor that doubled as a bed, dressed in her Juicy Couture tracksuit, and headed for Mel’s.
It wasn’t an easy task given the bus had been cancelled and there were roadworks at Notting Hill, but finally she got to Kensington.
Eagerly, she raced up the stone steps to Mel’s flat, but to no avail. No one was home.
She waited, pressing the buzzer intermittently for an hour before finally conceding defeat – and being told to ‘piss off or I’ll hose you down’ by the porter.
So much for the tearful reunion she’d been expecting.
Jools dragged herself back to her flat, All By Myself playing on a never-ending loop in her head.
Somehow, she’d always thought she and Mel would get through this, like they’d got through everything in the past. Mel had always been there for Jools, through thick and thin, and the thought of spending the rest of her life without her best friend took away even Jools’ appetite. She walked in her front door, looked with dismay at the fallen stack of bean tins in front of her (just something else to clean) before turning away and flopping on the floor.
A little while later she paid a visit to the Internet café, where more bad news greeted her.
Her father. Emailing to say he was leaving the country – again. Full of curses and blame, his lengthy message made it clear Jools had ruined his chances of living as a free person in his homeland. But Jools was beyond caring. She had no desire to see him ever again. Even living in Rocco’s concrete rat hotel was preferable.
I’m leaving with a group of Ukrainians I met at a hostel I had to go when my own daughter told me to bugger off from her wedding.
From what she could decipher, he was going to an ex-Soviet Union state in the back of a biscuit lorry, where the law was of no consequence and he could live freely with whomever he wanted. He would not be bound by the laws of so-called civilised society any longer and if she chose to pass this email along to the authorities, she would surely rot in hell for betraying the man who had given her life and supported her emotionally and financially much longer than she deserved.
The nerve! Dear old Dad definitely had to be locked up, in an insane asylum if not jail.
With him and Mel out of the picture, Jools wondered if Skuttle was truly lost to her. There had to be a hobo registry or something, surely? Skuttle was the only friend she’d ever had who loved (okay liked) her no matter what. He’d always seemed to put Jools’ needs above his own, and in the person-eat-dog world of the streets, that meant a lot.
Jools racked her brain to think of something but decided there was no way to find her Hunk of No Fixed Abode.
She was alone. No choice but to accept it. Taking a deep breath she decided Rocco was right. Time to get real, to find a real way of living, instead of relying on get-rich quick schemes and online sales.
A job was what was required. Immediately. Something that didn’t involve rodents or excrement.
As she wasn’t about to go back to cleaning, a new career path was required. But with no office experience, a corporate job was out of the question. She’d never waited tables or worked at a bar. Her computer skills were limited to the most basic of tasks and to top it all off, the only ‘suitable for job interview’ suit she had left was in the boot of the BMW confiscated by Rodney.
Suddenly, a large sign on one of the buses outside caught her eye.
Wanted: competent drivers. Good rates of pay. Immediate start. Apply now.
Brilliant! How hard could it be to drive a bus? Should be easy enough to convince the bus company she could handle an oversize vehicle. After all, she could steer herself around well enough, couldn’t she?
Getting dressed in the best skirt and top that she could find in her bags, she swung out of the window and down into the bus station, heading for the sign that said ‘OFFICE’.
‘Yes, love, can I help?’ The bloke in the office considered her with the interest of a bargain shopper at a penny bazaar. He had a bulbous nose and bloodshot eyes and was almost completely bald save a circle of fine black hair that wound its way over his ears and to the back of his head where it was tied into a loose ponytail. And he was more overweight than her.
A good sign.
‘The sign out front says you’re hiring.’
He sat back and folded his arms behind his round head. ‘You? Can you drive a bus?’
‘Don’t I look like I can?’ Dodging difficult questions seemed the best option.
‘I don’t know, but your heavy vehicle licence will prove it one way or the other.’
Shit. Double shit. Jools hadn’t thought this thing through, had she?
‘Look, can’t you train me and then I take that test? You always hear about bus driver shortages. I have a valid licence and I’m a good driver, so I’m sure I could get whatever other licence I need to drive a bus.’
‘It’s not just about driving. It’s so, so much more than driving.’ He shook his head solemnly.
‘Well, what’s it about then?’ she asked. ‘Steering? Opening the doors? Swearing at passengers? It can’t be all that complicated.’
His mouth plopped open and his eye twitched as if he was stunned by her ignorance.
‘I just don’t know,’ he said, eyelid fluttering and head shaking. He lit a cigarette and began to puff. Jools thought it was illegal to smoke in offices, but didn’t want to risk being set on fire by saying so.
‘Please? Give me a shot? I promise to impress you.’
‘Save the big-eyed routine for the boss,’ the man said, mellowing slightly. ‘He’s the one you need to impress.’
‘Fine.’ Wishing she had worn her busty Topshop dress instead of the solemn shirt and skirt ensemble, Jools leaned over the table.
‘Just give me five minutes. I’m sure I can convince him.’
Pushing her off his paperwork, the man stood up and walked over to a door at the back of the office. He rapped sharply and waited.
Finally, a well-spoken voice answered ‘Yes?’ and the man went inside. Jools held her breath.
‘He’ll see you in an hour,’ the man said, emerging a few moments later. ‘You can wait here. Help yourself to some food and so on, if you like.’
Jools liked. She headed for the garage canteen and got herself a cup of coffee and a couple of donuts. But the coffee’s tinny taste made her grimace. She’d got used to the special blend Rodney imported directly from Kenya. And after one bite of the donut she felt sick. Far too much sugar, given she had been sticking to more filling, savoury foods like beans.
Time to get real, she reminded herself as she flipped through the pages of a tatty old Penthouse. She was going to get this job and make a new start. Maybe Rodney would let her pay back the money week by week, with interest. Okay, it would take about 2000 years on a bus driver’s salary, but if he refused the deal, well, he would have to sue her, wouldn’t he?
Happy there was at least one magazine whose cover she hadn’t graced, she skimmed the salacious tale of a buxom school teacher and a mailman as she waited.
‘Jools?’
She looked up and her eyes widened.
It couldn’t be.
It was.
‘Skuttle!’ She jumped out of her seat and wrapped her arms around him. God, he smelled good.
‘Easy, Jools,’ he said so
ftly, although his arms were around her too. Neither of them let go for the longest time.
Finally, Jools pulled away. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you!’ She eyed the packet of crisps and the bottle of fizzy drink in his hands. ‘Skuttle, you need to be careful nicking things from here.’
She cast a furtive glance rearwards to make sure no one had seen. ‘Put those under your coat so no one sees you leaving with them.’
Skuttle smiled and did as he was told. ‘I’ve been worried about you, Jools,’ he said. ‘The press have been sniffing around. It was worse last week but they’re still popping up every now and again.’
‘I’m not too worried. I’ll be old news soon enough?’
‘You look brilliant,’ he said, changing the subject.
Jools giggled. She looked mismatched and unkempt.
‘I mean it!’ he continued. ‘I like you with a little meat on your bones. You look healthy.’
Jools’ cheeks went red. She didn’t believe a word of it but it was certainly good to hear. ‘You’re very sweet. But come on. I’m a cow, as Rodney says. Used to say.’
A quick flash of anger flickered over Skuttle’s handsome, hairy face. ‘Some people don’t know what they’re on about.’
Eager to catch up, Jools asked Skuttle where he’d been and what he’d been doing.
‘This and that,’ he replied, looking away.
‘But where have you been living?’
‘Oh, here and there.’
Jools didn’t want to pry; he was probably too embarrassed to tell her where he’d ended up. Maybe he was staying at a men’s shelter or in some dodgy wino skip somewhere. The bus people must have discovered his hidey hole and evicted him.
‘And you?’ Skuttle asked. ‘Where are you living?’
Jools decided to be just as cagey with Skuttle. She really didn’t want him to know she was living in one of Rocco’s flats – right back where she had started.
‘Oh, here and there,’ she said, smiling.
But Skuttle wasn’t as quick to drop the subject as she had been.
‘I care about you, Jools,’ he said. ‘I want to make sure you’re safe.’
‘Don’t worry, Skuttle. I’ve got a place. My old place. Not much better than the one we shared together, but it’s big enough for two. If you need somewhere to stay, you’re always welcome.’
Blushing a deep red, Skuttle mumbled his thanks. As she glanced at the clock on the canteen wall, Jools realised she needed to get ready for her interview.
‘Good luck,’ Skuttle said when informed of her future as a bus driver. He even looked impressed.
‘I mean it about staying with me,’ she said again. ‘Whenever you need anything, you know where to find me.’
Jools headed to the loo and splashed some cold water on her face. She hadn’t managed to extract any of the expensive makeup from Rodney’s, so hopefully freezing water would add a little colour to her cheeks. After a few minutes, she stood back. Her size 16 body was as lumpy as ever, but at least her face looked alright. Definitely pass for a twenty-seven-year-old.
A quick fluffing of hair and adjustment of bra (including undoing one more button on her stripey shirt) and she was ready. At least being obese gave you good cleavage. She’d do anything to land this job.
Well, just about anything.
New leaf, Jools, remember?
Making her way back to the garage office, she smiled winningly at the gruff man with the ponytail. Eyes fixed on her newly-revealed assets, he knocked over the potted fern as he stumbled to the other end of the office and knocked on the boss’s door.
‘You can go in now,’ the man said to her boobs.
Jools strode into the office, all set to make a good first impression. But the boss wasn’t even facing her.
Positioned behind a large metal desk at the far end of the room, all she could see was the strong profile of his shoulders and the hairy curve of his neck.
She felt a bit like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz – a fat Dorothy with the beginnings of a dowager’s hump.
‘Take a seat,’ he ordered.
Jools sat down in a hard-backed wooden chair about five feet away from the desk.
‘Thank you for seeing me, sir,’ she began but was interrupted before she had the chance to say another word.
‘I wasn’t going to. I’ve looked at your CV and you certainly aren’t qualified for this position.’
Jools’ heart sank. The man was right. She’d done it again – buried her head in the sand and stupidly hoped that, despite all logic, everything would be fine. Still, desperation kept her from walking out.
‘I know, sir,’ she said. ‘You’re right. On paper, I don’t appear to be the best candidate for this job.’
‘So why should I hire you?’
‘I’m a hard worker and a decent person. I’m just a bit down on my luck.’
She wished he would turn around. It was hard enough begging, let alone begging someone’s back!
The man didn’t even answer.
Jools stood. She was hard up but there was only so much that could be achieved when you couldn’t even see a person’s face. ‘I’m sorry to have wasted your time.’ She choked back tears and started for the door.
‘Wait,’ the man said, just as she reached for the handle. ‘Sit down for a second.’
Hope fluttered in her chest as she sank back onto the hard wooden chair. God, this chair was tiny. If he ever did turn around Jools prayed he wouldn’t notice how her bum oozed over the edges.
‘Yes,’ he said thoughtfully, still facing the other way. ‘I might have something else for you.’
Hope banged hard against her ribs now. ‘Really? You’ll give me a job?’
A proper job, one without rats and poo? Everything would be alright if she could get one of those.
‘No,’ the boss said and Jools felt her face fall. ‘I don’t think so.’
Christ, maybe she shouldn’t have unbuttoned as far as she had. But no, he couldn’t even see her.
‘But why did you call me back if you’re not going to give me a job?’
‘Because,’ he said, ‘I just like hearing your voice.’
What? Was he insane? Or a sexual deviant?
Then the chair spun around and Jools gasped.
There, in the large, expensive leather recliner, sat the Hunk of No Fixed Abode – Skuttle.
Chapter 30
Dear Miss Grand,
Thank you for your email providing information on your father’s whereabouts. Due to your public-spirited notification, we have arrested Charlie Grand and extradited him to Spain, where as you know charges are pending.
It must have been difficult for you to come forward, and in recognition of this, we have reinstated your eligibility for future benefits from the government, should you need them.
Yours sincerely,
Inspector Edwards Muffon
UK Border Agency
SKUTTLE GRINNED WIDELY but all Jools could do was sit and stare. Had Skuttle broken into the office? Had he knocked out the real boss with his bottle of Stumpy? Was said boss bound and gagged in the corner closet?
‘What the hell are you doing?’ she said when she could finally speak. ‘You’ll get arrested!’
Skuttle got up and walked around to where she was sitting. He positioned his well-formed backside on the edge of the metal desk and folded his hands in his lap. He really did look a treat in those combats!
‘Just listen for a minute, Jools,’ he said. ‘There’s something I really need to tell you.’
God, she’d never seen his face so serious. She hoped he hadn’t murdered the real boss or something. Her heart raced. Maybe he wanted her to help hide the body? As much as she liked Skuttle, no way was she getting involved in something like that. Besides, she couldn’t stand the sight of blood.
‘Skuttle, this isn’t funny. What have you done with the man who was supposed to interview me? Did you hurt him?’
‘I’m that man,�
�� Skuttle said calmly.
‘Stop fooling,’ she demanded, fear growing inside of her. Did just knowing him make her an accomplice?
A knock interrupted the tension in the room. The door swung open before Skuttle had a chance to respond.
‘What on earth did you mean, dragging me all the way to this shithole, Skuttle, when we very easily could have met at your office in the City?’
Jools knew that voice. But she couldn’t figure out why the hell its owner would be at the bus station. She whipped around.
Rodney was standing by the door. When he saw her, his eyes widened. He seemed just as surprised to see her as she was to see him.
‘What is this? Have you gone completely insane?’ Rodney asked Skuttle.
‘I know you’re angry,’ Skuttle said, looking at Jools. ‘But let me explain.’
Jools felt weak. Had Rodney drafted Skuttle into his plan to totally discredit and humiliate her? After all, hobos could be bought and sold if they were desperate enough. Look at what she’d done.
Thoughts clogged her mind. She opened and closed her mouth, but nothing came out. Finally she waved a hand in Skuttle’s direction. ‘Go on.’ She needed to know what Skuttle’s role was in all of this. And what had Rodney meant by ‘City office’?
Naked in Knightsbridge Page 24
