The Forgotten Girl (12 page)

It was a door between two shop fronts and it had been propped open with a shoe. I followed Suze up the narrow stairs, stepping over a guy with long curly hair who was smoking a joint, and a couple who were entwined so closely I could barely see where one ended and the other began.

Suze, of course, knew lots of people though I was quickly beginning to realise that she knew much more about other people than they knew about her. She led me into the main room where guests were standing around chatting, next to a trestle table groaning with bottles of booze and a huge bowl with a ladle in it. One girl, who had straight black hair, right down to the hem of her – very short – skirt, was dancing with her eyes closed. Suze ladled some of the liquid from the bowl into a glass and thrust it into my hand.

‘Here,' she said.

‘What is it?' I smelled my drink. It was a lurid pink and had a whiff of aniseed.

Suze shook her head.

‘Some sort of punch,' she said. ‘Dunno what's in it.'

She drained her glass and refilled it.

‘Come on,' she said. ‘Don't be so square.'

I sipped gingerly at the strong drink and wondered if I could swap it for a beer without her noticing. I wasn't a big drinker – living with Dad had made me cautious about what it could do.

I wasn't sure if it was the booze, but there was something slightly wild about Suze tonight. It made me wary and I was very aware that I barely knew her. But I also felt a bit guilty. I'd more or less forced her to tell me about how she'd ended up in London and everything that had happened to her, and I wondered if that was the reason for her funny mood.

It was a good party – I thought. I'd never been anywhere like that before. Two men sat by the record player, choosing which songs to put on and people were dancing everywhere – even in the kitchen. A fog of smoke hung over the room and my eyes stung as I peered at everyone. Some of the girls were wearing gorgeous clothes and I saw one guest, who had a chic Mary Quant style bob and stark white lips, wearing a dress I'd been drooling over in Biba's window for weeks. It was like an assault on all my senses, my ears rang from the music – and from the arguments when one guy tried to put on a Bob Dylan record and the other one took it from the turntable and threw it out of the window. My tongue throbbed from the sweet punch, and the cloying stench of marijuana stuck to my hair. It was exhilarating and frightening.

I went to the toilet and shut the door, glad there was a lock. I was out of my depth here. For all my sassy girl-about-town persona, at heart I was just a little girl from the suburbs. I glanced at my watch, half-hoping I'd still have time to get the last train home but it was too late.

I flushed and washed my hands and opened the door. Two girls fell into the bathroom – they'd obviously been leaning against the door – and laughed uproariously. I stepped over them and went to find Suze.

She wasn't in the room with the music, or the kitchen. I opened the door to the bedroom and hissed her name, but there were just some guys in there, passing round a joint and playing a guitar – very badly. Had she gone home without me? What would I do? Beginning to panic, I went back into the living room.

‘Nancy?'

I turned round. On the sofa in the corner, was George. He was sitting on the arm of the couch, his arm draped casually along the back. Sitting next to him was a girl wearing a long knitted waistcoat. She had a cloud of blonde curls and bright blue eyeshadow.

‘George,' I said, gratified to see how he leapt to his feet as soon as he saw me. The girl he'd been talking to shut her eyes and started to snore softly, sitting upright on the sofa.

‘I didn't expect to see you here,' he said. ‘Not your usual hang out?'

‘I came with Suze,' I said. ‘But I've lost her and I'm meant to be staying at hers.'

‘Have you been outside?'

‘No,' I said, surprised. ‘I didn't even know there was an outside.'

George tugged at my sleeve.

‘I'll show you,' he said.

I followed him through the kitchen and out the back door onto a metal fire escape. We climbed a few stairs and came out onto a roof terrace.

‘Wow,' I said. I pulled the sleeves of my dress down over my fingers – it was cold out here and I had no idea where my coat was.

It was a square, concrete space, with metal railings all around. But the view was amazing. I could see right down to the Houses of Parliament and across the rooftops of Soho.

‘It's great, isn't it?' George said. ‘I always want to photograph it but night-time pics never come out like I hope.'

‘It's amazing,' I said. ‘I love London at night – I always think it's like two cities. The daytime London and the night.'

I leaned on the railing and looked out into the darkness.

‘It would be a good feature, I think,' I said, half to myself. ‘Visit the same street in London at different times of the day and see how it changes.'

‘That's a great idea,' George said. ‘One of the Sunday papers would love that. I'll do the pictures.'

I dug about in my small shoulder bag for the notebook and pen I always carried with me.

‘I'm writing it down,' I said, scribbling furiously. ‘I'm going to pitch it on Monday.'

George laughed.

‘Always working,' he said. I looked up at him and grinned and he held my gaze for a fraction too long. Then something caught his eye behind me and he looked away.

‘There she is,' he said, nodding behind me. ‘Suze. She looks a bit worse for wear.'

She was standing in a group of people, swaying slightly.

‘Suze,' I called.

Suze whirled round. Her eyes were wide and glazed and I thought she didn't see me at first. Then she focused on me.

‘Naaaaancy,' she said, wrapping her arms round my neck. ‘Nancy, come and dance.'

‘No,' I said, peeling her off me. ‘I think it's time we went home.'

‘Don't be such a bore,' she said, squinting at me. She stumbled and George caught her before she fell.

‘George,' she said. ‘Did you come to see Nancy?'

George grinned.

‘Of course,' he said.

‘I knew it,' Suze said, jabbing George's chest with a pointed finger. ‘I knew you liked her. Didn't I know it, Nancy?'

I was mortified. I couldn't look George in the eye.

‘Sorry,' I muttered. ‘She's drunk.'

‘She's more than drunk,' George said in my ear.

I was shocked but not surprised, really.

‘Suze,' I said. ‘Have you taken anything?'

Suze laughed sleepily.

‘Only a tiny little Valium,' she said. ‘I like how they make my head go all floaty.'

I groaned, feeling terrible. Suze was full of bravado, but now I realised just how fragile she really was. Obviously telling me what had happened to her had stirred up some memories that she was now trying her best to block out.

I gave her a hug, feeling how thin she was.

‘I'm sorry,' I whispered in her ear. ‘You'll be okay, Suze. You'll be fine.'

I looked at George over the top of her head and he understood what I was asking.

‘Let's get her out of here,' he said.

‘Come on, Suze,' I said, pulling her arm. ‘Let's go.'

Thankfully, she let me lead her back down the metal staircase and into the flat. I found my coat, draped over a sleeping figure in the bedroom – I couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman – and carefully George and I steered Suze down the narrow steps and out onto the street.

‘Thanks,' I said to George. ‘I'll take her home – it's not far.'

‘Let me help,' George said.

My fears of George being shocked by Suze's living arrangements were outweighed by my worries about getting Suze home in one piece.

‘Okay,' I said. ‘I'd appreciate it.'

With one of us on each of Suze's arms, we made slow progress down Wardour Street and eventually onto Peter Street. I found Suze's key in her pocket and unlocked the door.

‘Shut it,' she slurred as we went inside. ‘Shut it properly.'

I padlocked the door and showed her. She nodded approvingly and I exchanged a glance with George. Suze must be really frightened those guys would come back if she worried about it in the state she was in.

I helped her upstairs and into the living room. She slumped onto the bed and within seconds she was asleep. I pulled off her shoes, covered her in the thin blanket that was draped over the headboard, and sighed.

‘Drink?' said George. I'd almost forgotten he was there.

He was holding out a small bottle of gin.

‘Where did you get that?' I said.

‘I pinched it from the kitchen at the party,' he said.

I gasped in mock horror.

‘Thief,' I said.

George grinned.

‘Got this too,' he said, producing a bottle of lemonade from his bag.

I laughed. I walked over to the counter that acted as Suze's kitchen and picked up two mugs.

I gave one to George and he slopped gin into first his, then mine. I peered into them and poured half of my gin into his mug, then I topped them both up with lemonade.

I threw myself onto the sofa and raised my mug to him.

‘I guess we'd better get rid of those stolen goods, then,' I said. ‘Cheers.'

Chapter 19

2016

When I got to the office the day after I'd met Mum for lunch – at the crack of dawn, obviously – I was amazed to see Damo already there. He was sitting at his computer, staring intently at the big screen.

‘'Sup,' he said, without taking his eyes from the page he was looking at, as I passed.

‘'Sup?' I said, hoisting my gym bag further up my arm. ‘'Sup? What are you, fifteen?'

Damo laughed.

‘Good morning,' he said in an affected posh British accent.

I grinned.

‘Better,' I said. ‘What are you doing here so early?'

Damo pushed his chair away from his desk and leaned back so he could look up at me.

‘I'm designing,' he said. ‘I'm excited about this anniversary issue and I wanted to get started on a bit of a redesign. But we've got the current issue to finish as well, so I thought I'd come in early so I didn't get behind.'

I stared at him, open-mouthed.

‘Oh don't look so surprised,' he said. ‘I'm a bloody good designer and you know it.'

‘When you want to be,' I said. ‘On your terms.'

Damo looked uncharacteristically pissed off, his usual Aussie beach bum demeanour slipping for a second.

‘I realise it probably eases your guilty conscience to paint me as a layabout loser,' he said, pushing his hair back from his face. ‘But you know that's not true.'

I grimaced. He had the measure of me, all right. Always had.

‘Sorry,' I whispered. ‘It's just strange having you around.'

I felt a squirming in my stomach that could have been hunger but was more likely guilt. Or, I thought, as I looked at his firm jaw, set in annoyance, it might have been lust.

Shaken, I slapped him on the back like he'd just scored an excellent goal in a five-a-side football match.

‘Keep up the good work,' I said cheerily. ‘Show me what you've got later.'

Then I dived into my office.

‘Well, Fearne, you handled that beautifully,' I muttered, dumping my gym stuff in the corner and switching on my computer. ‘Keep up the good work. He's not running a 10km.'

‘You left your coffee on my desk.' Damo had followed me into my office and I cringed all over again.

‘Thanks,' I muttered, as he handed me the cup. ‘I do appreciate you being here, you know.'

Damo grinned at me.

‘No you don't,' he said. ‘But you will.'

‘Jen said she's going to hand in her notice today,' I said, changing the subject in a hurry. Since when did Damo make me feel so damn uncomfortable?

‘Is she on three months' notice?' Damo asked. ‘We'll have made all the changes before she can start.'

I shook my head.

‘Just a month,' I said. ‘She'll be here in time for the next issue.'

Like I'd willed it happen, my phone buzzed on my desk.

‘That'll be her,' I said. ‘Hope she's calling to say it's done.'

‘Jen,' I said, as I pressed the button to answer the call. ‘Are you with us?'

There was a silence on the other end, so long that I thought we'd been cut off. I took the phone away from my ear and looked at the screen – still connected.

‘Jen?' I said again.

‘I'm not coming,' she said.

I sat down heavily in my chair. Damo looked puzzled and I gestured for him to leave. He frowned but he didn't argue. He slunk out and shut the door behind him.

‘What do you mean, you're not coming?'

Jen sighed. I could picture her twisting a piece of her hair round on itself as she talked.

‘Vicki, the editor of Grace, is leaving,' she said.

‘No. Way.' I was pleased – having her gone would make things easier for us. ‘That's great news. Who told you?'

‘The publisher,' Jen said. ‘When he offered me the job.'

For a minute I didn't understand what she was saying to me.

‘What job?'

‘I'm the new editor of Grace, Fearne,' Jen said.

‘You're the...' I was still bewildered.

‘I'm Grace's editor. I start in a month.'

‘But you're my deputy,' I said. ‘You agreed.'

‘That was before this came up,' she said. ‘I can't turn it down. It's an amazing opportunity.'

I winced. She was repeating my own words back to me. The words I'd used when I'd run out on her and our plans for The Hive to take the job at Mode.

‘How long have you known?' I said slowly.

‘A week or so.' Jen sounded a bit sheepish. ‘But they didn't officially offer it to me until yesterday afternoon.'