The Not So Perfect Plan to Save Friendship House: An uplifting romantic comedy

by Lilly Bartlett

  ‘What if the women refuse?’ June asks.

  I hold my breath as Max stares at her. ‘Then they can find somewhere else to live.’

  For the second time in a month, we have to call an all-residents meeting. They’re going to start catching on that bad things happen when we get them all together in the living room.

  The only person we didn’t include was Terence. It shouldn’t make a blind bit of difference to him that men will be living here. It’s the women who’re going to go ballistic.

  Although Nick doesn’t think so. He’s backing Tamsyn’s assumption that the women, after years or decades living perfectly happily amongst their own, are secretly dying to have a man around.

  Honestly, I sometimes despair for the future of feminism if this is how our young women think.

  We’re about to find out who’s right.

  Even Maggie has come downstairs without much fuss. It helped that Laney asked her. As the oldest and the youngest residents, one stiff as a plank and the other as warm and lively as you like, you’d never think the two would be friends. But, for some reason, Maggie tolerates Laney and Laney actually seems to like Maggie. ‘She never makes me feel dim,’ Laney explained when I asked her. ‘Not that the rest of you do. I know I can be daft as a brush, so I don’t need to be told, really.’ I promised myself not to call attention to Laney’s oddities next time and mentioned it to June and Nick. I hate the idea that we might have made her feel bad.

  There’s a different atmosphere in the room this time. The women are warier, so June, who’s always attuned to these things, comes right out with it. ‘Max is accepting applications from men.’

  I don’t get any satisfaction knowing that I was right and Tamsyn and Nick were wrong. The women haven’t been harbouring any secret desire to live with men again. It’s pandemonium.

  That’s why none of us notices when Terence slips in. Until he says, ‘Oh, stop your cackling. You sound like a bunch of old hens. You should be grateful that anyone wants to come here. We could use some men. I’m practically growing tits with all the female hormones swirling around this house.’

  ‘You’re a disgusting arse!’ Dot shouts at him. That’s sweet, gentle, not-normally-sweary Dot.

  The women back up their friend with more jibes for Terence.

  He’s loving it. ‘My bollocks are shrinking, that’s no word of a lie,’ he says with a smirk. He’ll stir them up all day long if he can.

  ‘Oh, well,’ Laney says with concern on her face, ‘that sounds like you should see a doctor. HRT has done wonders for me. Though I haven’t got bollocks… so maybe it’s not the same thing.’ She turns to Sophie. ‘Do they have HRT for men?’

  ‘It’s called BRT,’ she answers. ‘Bollock Replacement Therapy.’

  I could kiss Laney for lightening the mood. Not that she’s realised she’s done it.

  But when Maggie says, ‘Well, that is unacceptable,’ her cut-glass voice carries over the din and the laughter in the room falls silent. ‘This is a home for women. Not women and men. Terence, if you’re growing breasts, then perhaps eventually the transformation will be complete and we can all go back to living here the way we want to. What we cannot do is accept any more of you.’

  Nick stands up. ‘May I say something, ladies? Please don’t judge all men by what you see here.’ He gestures to Terence. ‘We’re not all like him.’

  ‘Ta very much, my boy,’ says Terence.

  Nick goes on. ‘The owner is already accepting applications, so let’s work around this to make it as pleasant as possible for everyone. Wouldn’t it be a better use of everyone’s energy to be constructive?’

  Only because Nick is Nick do the women consider his plea.

  Meanwhile, I’m thinking about a few constructive ideas for Max’s open house. If he wants us to roll out the red carpet, then the least we can do is show them what it’s really like to live with women.

  Just as everyone starts calming down, Tamsyn pops her head around the corner. ‘Nick, I need a ride home from work tonight. Can you give me one?’

  I know for a fact that she lives at home with her parents, at least half an hour’s drive away. But instead of objecting, or ignoring her, like I would have done, Nick smiles. ‘No problem,’ he says.

  He doesn’t sound like someone who’s surprised by her request. And she hardly waited for an answer. Which means she didn’t expect a refusal.

  Have I missed something? The last I knew, Tamsyn was fawning all over Nick and he was being his usual kind self back and I disliked her mostly because she’s pretty and under the same roof as Nick. I’m big enough to admit that it has been my default since she turned up here with her skinny jeans and her glossy hair. I wouldn’t have been nearly as touchy about him paying her attention if she was ugly, would I?

  Do you mean to tell me that I should be jealous?

  But before I can dwell too much on it (there’ll be plenty of time for obsessing later), Nick’s expression clouds over. ‘Actually, that’s rotten timing, Phoebe,’ he says, ‘because I wanted to see if you’re free for a drink or something after work tonight. Sorry, I meant to ask you earlier, but then Max turned up and now I’ve said I’ll give Tamsyn a ride. Could we maybe do it another time, though?’

  Is that Nick asking me out? I can’t ask in front of all the women, but it sounds like it might be, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it?! After months, he must finally really be over what happened with Seth.

  And right now is when Tamsyn wants a ride?

  ‘I’d love that. Any time.’ That is, any time that he’s not too busy doing what Tamsyn wants.

  Chapter 12

  It has been days since Nick’s offer and I can’t stop thinking about it. We’ve both been run off our feet getting ready for the open house, and he hasn’t mentioned a drink again. Maybe that’s because he’s never free after work. As I feared, he’s been too busy driving Tamsyn around every night. I don’t know why she can’t just wait for Max to pick her up on his way home from Ipswich, when he has to drive right by anyway. I’m afraid she’s digging her claws into Nick. He’s not exactly fending her off, is he? So maybe I misinterpreted his question. Or maybe I didn’t, but a better offer has come along.

  It’s finally the open house today, and it’s probably too much to hope that the slanting rain will keep people away. Not after June got a look at the adverts that Max has put out. He’s been crying poverty for years, yet here he is offering a thirty per cent discount on his advertised rates. Granted, the advertised rates are still about twice what the women are paying, but it doesn’t send a good message, does it? Cut-rate prices for sodden, cut-rate people. And he wasn’t kidding when he said he wanted us to move quickly. It didn’t leave much time for plotting… I mean, for planning a successful day that will draw in lots of lovely new residents. Of course that’s what I mean.

  ‘Are you sure we shouldn’t let Nick in on it?’ June asks when I hand her a cup of tea. Coming into the kitchen is a new thing for her. Usually she just uses the kettle in her office. That’s how I know she’s really worried.

  Then she lowers her voice, looking around. ‘He’s not here, is he?’

  ‘Of course not. You don’t see Tamsyn, do you?’ She obviously thinks he’s her pet, playmate, driver and who knows what else. He doesn’t seem too upset by any of that, either. Even if I could get him alone, I’m not sure he’d be on board with June and me. He’s too busy cosying up to three generations of the Greene family.

  He doesn’t owe Terence or Tamsyn anything, but I suppose that keeping them sweet scores him points with Max. And that’s clearly what he’s after.

  ‘It’s best to keep him in the dark,’ I tell June. ‘He’s too close to Max and Tamsyn, don’t you think?’

  ‘And Terence,’ she adds. ‘Which is the real mystery.’

  I’m glad that June has noticed it too.

  ‘Max is his boss,’ she goes on, ‘so you can see why he’d want to be… let’s call it accommodating.’

  ‘L
et’s call it a kiss-arse,’ I say.

  ‘Right. And Tamsyn’s pretty. Sorry, hon, but she is. And Nick is a guy, so naturally he’s going to be flattered by her attention. But even being civil to Terence goes above and beyond, if you ask me.’ She checks the doorway. ‘Something’s been bothering me. About Nick.’

  My skin prickles. Do I want to hear this? I’m still stinging from June admitting that Tamsyn is hot. Pretty. Hot. Whatever.

  ‘Do you know how much Nick makes?’ She checks the door again. ‘I am not supposed to be telling you this, obviously, but it’s not a lot. Like, well below the market for his position. Especially since he’s got a first.’

  ‘Maybe he doesn’t realise he’s underpaid?’

  ‘Or maybe he’s working here for another reason.’

  ‘Like what?’

  She shrugs. ‘That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out, especially when Max has him doing all the other menial work on top of his job. And he never complains, does he? It’s like he can’t do enough for Max.’

  ‘Weird. Especially since Max is such an arse to him.’

  ‘Yeah, weird,’ she says. ‘Don’t tell a soul that I’ve said anything, okay? It’s completely unprofessional of me to talk about another employee’s salary.’

  As if I ever would.

  Later, back in the dining room, Nick won’t stop glancing towards the door. That’s exactly the same look our dog used to give us whenever we went near her treats cabinet. ‘Don’t bother, Nick,’ I say. ‘Tamsyn’s too busy to actually come in here and help.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  What does he think I mean, when it’s so obvious he’s practically salivating? But I don’t say that. Let him think he’s being subtle. ‘I’m just saying that you’d have to look hard to find someone more self-centred and useless. There’s no way June would have hired her if she wasn’t Max’s daughter.’

  He doesn’t say anything. That just encourages me. I can’t stand her anyway and he may as well know what I think. ‘We shouldn’t be surprised, really. Look at her father.’

  His glance is sharp, most unlike him.

  ‘Obviously, there’s some kind of deficiency there,’ I go on. Seeing as I’m on a roll. ‘Like father, like daughter. And even if you didn’t think Max was a complete arse, when he’s proving that pretty conclusively, just look at her grandfather. And she’s got both their genes.’

  He doesn’t answer my yikes face, though. ‘I think you’re being harsh on her,’ he finally says. ‘Nobody can help which family they’re born into. Your mum didn’t sound very pleasant. Should you be judged because of that?’

  Ouch. ‘I cannot believe you just brought my dead mum into it.’ I’m half kidding though, really, he shouldn’t have.

  He looks horrified. ‘Oh my god, Phoebe, I’m so sorry! Jesus, what an arsehole I am. Maybe you’re right.’

  I shouldn’t have goaded him into lashing out. It’s fine for normal people like me and June, but Nick is too nice. Now he’ll probably feel bad about it for years.

  ‘Today’s the day?’ Davey asks as he unloads our delivery. I’ll be ready for lunch, as soon as I put the finishing touches on the dessert. Three courses today. Talk about pushing the boat out for our special guests.

  He wanders over to the hob to lift one of the giant pot lids. ‘Are you laying it on thick for the punters?’

  ‘Stay out of there,’ I tell him. ‘It’s not for you.’

  But it’s too late. The whiff he’s caught makes him reel back. ‘Are you boiling dirty socks or something?’

  I’m surprised he had to stick his head into the pot to notice. The whole kitchen reeks. ‘I’m trying a new recipe for today. Trippa alla Romana.’

  ‘English, please?’

  ‘Tripe in tomato sauce.’

  He repeats his question.

  ‘It’s cow’s stomach lining. Mmm, mmm, doesn’t that make your mouth water?’ Actually, I’ve had delicious tripe, and I wouldn’t make anything that tastes horrible, even for a good cause. It just looks and sounds revolting. Which is the point today.

  ‘You fancy people and your stomach linings,’ he says. ‘It’s all offal, offal, offal with you. What?’ He smirks. ‘You didn’t think I knew what offal was, did you? You may also be surprised to know that I’ve taken cooking courses. I’m not only a pretty face, you know.’

  It takes me a minute to square this information with my version of Davey. ‘What kind of courses?’ I half expect him to say Pot Noodles.

  ‘Butchery. Vietnamese, Thai, Indian. Oh, and pasta in Florence.’

  ‘You’re kidding.’

  He shakes his head. ‘Phoebe, I’ve been telling you for months that I’m your perfect man and you won’t believe me. I know. You see the uniform and think I’m all about the power.’

  I stifle a snort as I take in his matching green golf shirt and trousers.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking.’ He circles his face with his finger. ‘And you’re right. This face was meant for the big screen, but who wants to deal with the casting couch?’

  How did I never realise that Davey is funny?

  ‘What are you staring at?’ he says.

  ‘I just never knew you had such… depth.’ Maybe I’ve been too busy obsessing over Nick to notice.

  He nods. ‘I can cook.’ He’s ticking off his fingers. ‘I can also make cocktails, and have fascinating conversations, and I can shag you senseless. How does that sound for a perfect night out?’

  It sounds like he’s waded back into the shallow end of the pool, where he’s most comfortable.

  ‘Hellllo!’ he says.

  ‘Yes, I see you, hello,’ I say back.

  ‘Not you.’

  That’s when I glance at the doorway, where Tamsyn is standing.

  ‘An angel must have fallen from heaven,’ Davey says.

  Instead of blanking him, like she usually does the rest of us, Tamsyn simpers.

  ‘DaveyTamsynTamsynDavey.’ Fastest introduction ever.

  When she flashes her mega-smile, I nearly fall for her. The girl knows how to be charming. ‘That’s so kind,’ she says, like Davey hasn’t just wheeled out the tritest chat-up line on Planet Earth. ‘I’m not always an angel, though.’ With a flick of her bouncy hair, she turns on her heel. Making sure he gets a good long look at her backside, of course.

  ‘Did you want something, Tamsyn?’ I call after her.

  ‘Just Nick,’ she answers.

  I’ll just bet she does.

  Davey shakes his hand, like he’s been burned, or we’re in an episode of Happy Days. If he says hubba hubba, I swear I’ll put his head in the tripe pot. ‘Don’t get too used to her,’ I tell him, ‘because I doubt she’ll be here long.’ Angrily, I swipe away a lock of hair that’s fallen out of the band. ‘She does hardly any work and if she wasn’t Max’s daughter, I’d have had her sacked already.’

  ‘Meow,’ Davey says as he stacks up his delivery boxes. ‘All right, tiger, retract those claws. Nobody’s threatening your territory.’

  ‘That’s not what I—’ But it is. There’s no use denying it. Everyone wants Tamsyn and it’s peeving me off. With a sigh, I say, ‘See you later.’

  I’m glad when Davey’s gone because he’s right. I’m pretty unattractive deep down in my soul right now.

  ‘More are coming!’ Dot whispers, peeking through the crack in the door. She’s been hiding here in the kitchen for the past hour, reporting back on everyone wandering through for the open house. I can’t look myself. I’ve got lunch to finish up.

  The others are hiding out too, but they’re in their rooms. All except for Terence. Nobody told him the plan, so he’s sitting with a few of the men who’ve come. He’s probably putting them off even without knowing our plan.

  Max wants us to show off the home. Well, we’re showing off the home: all the common rooms and the gardens and some really quite nice furniture. The only thing missing are the residents. ‘We’re not his trained monkeys,’ Sophie had compl
ained when we broke the news to everyone about the upcoming visit. ‘Can he let strangers in here? Is that legal? It is our home.’

  ‘So far it’s ours,’ Maggie murmured. ‘But for how long?’

  ‘Maybe they won’t like what they see,’ Laney had said.

  Wishful thinking… but it gave everyone the same idea.

  I stifle another giggle when I look over at Dot. Sophie has teased her hair up all on end and flattened one side as if Dot’s slept on it for about a week. ‘God, I keep giving myself a fright,’ she says, wincing at her reflection in the old-fashioned medicine cabinet that’s mounted beside the sink.

  She looks strange without her usual rosiness. ‘I wanted that forty-a-day pallor,’ she says. ‘It’s just a little grey eye shadow mixed into powder. Effective, isn’t it? I used to do all the make-up for our school plays.’ When she smiles at the memory, not even her make-up can disguise her pleasure. ‘You know, I still miss school every day,’ she says. ‘I thought those feelings would wear off by now. It didn’t take nearly this long to get over my no-account husband after he left.’ She laughs at that. ‘That says something about where my priorities are.’

  ‘Did you not ever… was there anyone special after your husband left?’

  She makes a sound in her throat that tells me how she feels about that. ‘Where would I have fit him in? Between working and trying to raise my boys, I was too busy to know what day it was, let alone deal with all that bother. I had my first love. That was enough.’

  ‘That was your husband?’

  ‘God no, Phoebe! But my first was special.’

  I smile. I love finding out more about the women. Like I said, they might not think their lives have been anything special, but I could listen to them all day long. ‘What was his name?’

  A frown skitters across her expression. ‘It doesn’t matter. Let me bring out the buns, will you?’

  ‘Sure, go ahead,’ says Tamsyn, who’s just wandered into the kitchen. She doesn’t even look up from her phone to notice Dot’s make-up.