To the Moon and Back

Chapter 6




Having pressed the buzzer, Ellie opened the door and waited for her visitor to appear.

Within seconds the girl with the cropped, white-blond hair came clattering up the stairs. ‘Hi, I’m Roo! I bought you a little thank-you present. Only from the late-night supermarket, but everywhere else was shut.’ Up close, she was tanned and goose-pimply in her strappy red dress, bare legs, and skyscraper heels. Bursting into the flat, she said, ‘Ooh, smells nice in here,’ before dumping her carrier bags on the coffee table and pulling out two bunches of bright orange roses. ‘These are for you.’

‘Thanks.’ Ellie was touched by the gesture. ‘You didn’t need to.’

‘Shut up. Here, this is for you too.’ With a flourish she produced a bottle of Chablis followed by a box of chocolate truffles. ‘And these.’

Ellie shook her head. ‘This is way too much.’

‘It isn’t, it’s to say sorry and thanks. And the reason I wanted you to have them tonight is because if I took them home, I’d end up eating the truffles and drinking the wine.’

There was something weirdly familiar about her voice. Puzzling to work out where she might have heard it before, Ellie picked up the chilled bottle. ‘We can open this now if you like.’

‘Fab, I love it when people say that!’ Eagerly Roo followed her into the kitchen. ‘Ooh, pasta sauce. That smells fantastic.’

She didn’t have a noticeable accent but the voice was still ringing bells. Now, covertly studying her face, Ellie really felt they’d met before. Probably in her early thirties, slim and toned and with huge dark eyes dominating a heart-shaped face, Roo was strikingly pretty beneath the layers of makeup…

‘Ah, the cogs are turning.’ Roo took the corkscrew from her and began energetically uncorking the bottle. She tilted her head and said with amusement, ‘Managed to figure it out yet?‘

‘Oh God, now I’m embarrassed. I knew I knew you from somewhere.’ Time for a wild stab. ‘OK, I work at Brace House Business Centre in Twickenham. Are you one of our clients?’

‘Nope.’

Damn.

‘I knew you weren’t. Um, let me think… have you ever worked in a shop?’

‘Yuck, no, thank God. Way too much like hard work.’ Roo sloshed wine into two glasses. ‘Kills your feet too. Unless it was a sitting-down type of shop. That might not be too bad.’

‘OK, let me think.’ Ellie was floundering. ‘Dentist’s surgery? Hospital? Hairdresser? Or did we meet at a party? Ooh, ever been to the Frog and Bucket in Hammersmith?’

‘No, and I never want to. Sounds too slimy for words. You are stone cold.’

‘Sorry, then. You’ll have to give me a clue.’ This was getting seriously awkward now.

Roo clinked her glass cheerfully against Ellie’s. ‘OK, picture me with long black hair down to here. On TV. Prancing around in a sequined tube top,’ she added, ‘whilst miming badly into a microphone.’

‘Oh my God, I’ve got it!’ Slopping wine on to the worktop, Ellie made the connection. ‘You’re one of the Deevas!’ OK, even more embarrassing; they’d never met before, she’d just seen Roo on TV.

‘Don’t feel bad. I prefer it when people don’t recognize me.’ Roo tweaked her spiky white-blond bangs. ‘Hence the hair. Anyway, that was way back. We grew up.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Well, kind of. And we moved on.’

Crikey, the Three Deevas had been huge seven or eight years ago. Billed as the girl band with claws, they had been sparky, feisty, and full of attitude, the natural successors to the Spice Girls. Their songs had been played everywhere, their first album a triumph. One black girl with blond hair, one white girl with black hair, and one Asian girl with super-long eyelashes and no hair at all.

Ellie searched her memory bank for more details. Dolly, Daisy, and Mya Deeva, those had been the names they’d gone by. Their first single had been the fantastically successful, ‘If I Loved You, I’d Remember Your Name’. It had to be bleeped because of the line, ‘Men are good for a shag and a new handbag.’

But music was a notoriously tough business. Eight months later, Dolly Deeva had blotted her copybook when she’d flashed her boobs live on children’s TV. Then Mya Deeva had fallen off the stage at a benefit gig and broken both legs. Finally, Daisy Deeva had given a tipsy interview to MTV announcing that she couldn’t sing in tune, Dolly Deeva wasn’t really a vegetarian, and their fat git of a manager needed to come out of the closet.

After that, the magic formula unraveled faster than an old sock. A year after they’d burst onto the scene, it was all over. The Three Deevas broke up and slid back into obscurity, and their fans found new girl bands to idolize.

Fascinated, Ellie said, ‘You were Daisy.’

‘Just don’t ask me to sing.’ Roo pulled a face. ‘Because I really can’t. Anyway, I’d much rather talk about you.’

But first they had to put a pan of spaghetti on the boil, to go with the sauce. As soon as that was done they headed back into the living room. Spotting the azure seas and white sandy beach on the still-frozen TV screen, Roo exclaimed, ‘Ooh, what were you watching? Mamma Mia?’

Before Ellie could react, she’d seized the remote control and pressed Play. Belatedly, Ellie said, ‘No, it’s—’

‘OK, not Mamma Mia.’ Gazing intently at the screen, Roo watched as Jamie chased Ellie into the water, pulling her into a jokey Hollywood clinch as a wave broke behind them, showering them in spray. Todd, manning the camcorder from a safe distance, called out, ‘You two, get a room.’

‘That’s you.’ Roo glanced back at Ellie, then at the box of tissues on the arm of the sofa. Realization dawned. ‘Oh no, you were sitting here all on your own, playing home videos, and getting emotional. Who’s the guy? Don’t tell me, let me guess. You’re not together anymore.’

Momentarily lost for words, Ellie said, ‘Um, well, no…’

‘Ha, knew it! And he’s the one who buggered off, that’s obvious, because otherwise why would you be watching this stuff? Now look, this isn’t doing you any good.’ Roo picked up the box of tissues, tut-tutted, and put them on the floor, out of reach. ‘Trust me, men aren’t worth it. You just have to get on with your life. OK, so he was a pretty one.’ She turned back to the TV and pressed Pause, freezing the screen to capture Jamie mid-leap in a game of beach volleyball. ‘But he left you, so don’t dwell on the good points. Be critical. Ask yourself what kind of bloke wears a T-shirt the color of baby’s poo. And what about those legs? They’re too skinny! And I bet he snored!’

Ellie hesitated, her mind racing. It was already too late to tell Roo the truth about Jamie; she would be mortified. What’s more, she would stop being irreverent and funny and treating her like a normal person. It happened every time, without fail. As soon as anyone found out she was a widow, their attitude towards her changed in an instant.

Sorry, Jamie.

Aloud she said, ‘OK, sometimes he snored.’

‘I knew it!’ Roo clapped her hands. ‘And spindly little legs like bits of spaghetti. Just concentrate on the bad points and you’ll be over him in no time. Trust me, I’ve had heaps of practice. I should be a relationship therapist.’

‘You’re right, I’m going to do that. Starting now.’ Retrieving the remote control, Ellie switched off the DVD player with a flourish. She sat down and indicated the sofa opposite. ‘There, I’m feeling better already. Come on then, your turn now. Tell me what it’s like living in Primrose Hill.’

***

‘Spindly little legs? Like spaghetti?’

It was two o’clock in the morning and Roo Taylor had just left. She was single, Ellie had discovered, but currently was seeing someone called Niall who looked a bit like Simon Cowell and was brilliant in bed. She loved New Zealand wines, DIY programs on TV, and MAC cosmetics. Her real name was Rosalind but her father had nicknamed her Roo because she’d been a bouncy baby. She still worked in the music industry, writing songs for people who could sing in tune…

‘Excuse me? Spindly?’ Jamie was wearing his bright turquoise surf shorts. Outraged, he pointed to his lower half. ‘And you just let her say it! There’s nothing wrong with my legs. They’re athletic.’

Ellie carried the glasses through to the kitchen. ‘Your knees are quite knobbly.’

‘They have to be! They’re knees; it’s their job to be knobbly. If we didn’t have knees, we wouldn’t be able to bend our legs. And you said I snored.’

‘I said sometimes.’

‘Occasionally,’ Jamie protested. ‘Occasionally I snore. Like any normal man. And as for her being rude about my T-shirt—’

‘I’m not going to say I told you so.’ Oh, the argument they’d had in the surf shop when Jamie had insisted that this was the one he wanted, and she had complained that it was a hideous cross between khaki and banana. Ellie paused then said, ‘But I did.’

Jamie shrugged. ‘And you didn’t happen to mention I was dead.’

‘I know. Are you OK with that?’

‘Sweetheart, if it makes things easier, that’s fine by me.’

This was the advantage of having a conversation with someone who wasn’t really there; you could make them say anything you wanted. It was cheating, but comforting at the same time.

‘I’ll tell her the truth later.’ Ellie finished rinsing the glasses.

‘You do that. Are you going to bed now?’

She dried her hands and nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘OK, I’ll leave you to it. Night, sweetie. See you tomorrow.’

‘Night.’

She liked him to leave properly; trying to imagine Jamie lying next to her in bed didn’t work and was just too hard to bear. She hung the towel over the rail and watched Jamie head out of the kitchen.

Oh, Jamie, where are you really? Haven’t I been without you for long enough now?

Please come back.