A WAG Abroad

‘I’ve never known a girl have alcohol in her handbag before,’ he says.

‘Well, I guess you’ve never met a girl from Luton before then.’

Now he’s beginning to understand why I was so excited about the idea of air conditioning in handbags. Chilled Bacardi Breezers. Wicked!

With that, I pull out a couple of bottles of Cristal and we’re off.

‘You staying for a drink?’

‘I really shouldn’t,’ Jamie says, turning serious all of a sudden. ‘I should be out looking for a job.’

‘As a photographer?’

‘Now that would be nice. Sadly, no. I need to find myself work as a driver while building my portfolio.’

‘I thought you worked for the club.’

‘I used to,’ he explains, ‘then they terminated my contract. This is my last job for them – picking you guys up from the airport. The club has a policy of using lots of different drivers. They never re-employ the same ones once their twelve-month contract is up, so – I’m off.’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ I cry. ‘We must get Dean to have a word with them. He’s going to be very important at the club. He’ll make them change their mind. Won’t you, dear?’

There’s no sound from Dean because he has his head down and is rummaging through my bags in search of lager. When he emerges with a big grin and a four-pack of Stella I ask him again.

‘I’ll try, Candyfloss,’ he says, distracted by his new find, ‘but I can’t make any promises.’

‘There you go. Dean’s definitely going to get you a job, so you don’t have to worry,’ I say. ‘Have a little drink with us.’

‘I’ll just have a softie,’ he says. ‘I haven’t drunk for years. I’m just not keen on alcohol and what it does to the body.’

‘What? You don’t drink at all?’

‘No,’ he says. ‘Never touch it. Lots of people in LA don’t.’

I knock back my champagne in shock and watch Dean as he plonks himself down on the other sofa, facing the 60-inch wall-mounted plasma TV. He pours half of his can down his neck before switching on the telly and giving his balls a right good scratch. Ahhh … now it feels like home.

‘You all right, love?’ I ask, and he looks round with a contented smile on his face.

‘Just like Luton but with more TV stations,’ he says, and I can hear the emotion in his voice.

‘Come and sit here,’ I say to Jamie, patting the sofa next to me. He sits down unnecessarily close and looks straight into my eyes. I feel strange inside, as if every major organ in my body is involved in a trampoline display. I can’t breathe. I’m sure I’m going to have a coronary at any moment. My heart’s thumping so hard, it’s like it’s going to smash its way through my chest and dance across the floor.

What’s wrong with me? I never feel like this around men. I need to get away.

‘I’m just going to check on my dressing area, then I’ll be back for a chat,’ I say in a peculiar high-pitched voice, staggering up the stairs.

My dressing area is still there, with its cerise-coloured walls and leopardskin carpet, and the hangers and drawers lined in velvet. There’s loads of space in there and little velvet, leopardskin pouches for shoes, and stands for boots and handbags. I’m still trying to catch my breath after sitting so close to Jamie, so I sit down heavily on the bed and pull out the little gold map case from my hotpants.

I open it up and try to work out where our house is. There! I put a gold star right on top of us, then I pull out my piece of paper with Victoria and David’s address on. OK… Beverly Hills, Beverly Hills. Whaaaaattt? Hollywood Hills and Beverly Hills are two completely different places. They’re separate hills entirely. Holy fuck. We’re living on the wrong hill. I drop the map and jump up.

‘Dean,’ I say, shrieking through the house as I hobble down the stairs, taking them three at a time and moving with reckless speed. ‘Dean!’

‘What is it?’ he says, coming out to meet me.

‘This house is all wrong,’ I say.

‘No it’s not. It’s lovely.’

‘Dean, it’s all wrong. We can’t live here, we have to move. Immediately. We have to, Sugar Lump.’

‘I don’t understand, love. It’s all done out just like the Luton house was. What’s the problem? If you don’t like something, can’t you just call Lisaa and get it changed, like you did when the chandeliers in the hallway weren’t sparkly enough? Do you remember that, love? You sent the poor woman back to India to get more jewels. Then there was the time you wanted pink marble benches and Lisaa managed to find them in China.’

‘No, Dean, the problem isn’t the house. It’s the place. I got my hills muddled up. I thought Victoria and David lived in Hollywood Hills but they live in Beverly Hills. Oh, Dean, it was my dream to live next to them and to see them every day. I can’t believe it. It’s too awful for words.’

‘How far away is Beverly Hills?’ asks Dean. ‘I bet it’s just round the corner.’

‘It’s four and a half acrylic nails away. I measured it, Dean. How many miles to a nail, do you think?’

‘I don’t really know,’ he says. ‘Jamie might.’

Jamie! Of course, he’s bound to know.

‘Jamie, Jamie,’ I start howling, as I run into the sitting room. ‘How far’s Beverly Hills from here?’

‘About half an hour’s drive,’ he says. ‘Why? Do you want to go there?’

‘Yes, urgently,’ I say. ‘I need to go now. Quickly. As soon as possible. I need to see where the Beckhams live. It’s of the utmost importance. If they don’t live where they should live, we’re going to have to move. Unless they will move instead … No, I think it’s going to have to be us. They were here first. I’m not an unreasonable woman.’

‘OK,’ he says, a little confused, but getting to his feet nonetheless.

‘See you later,’ I say to Dean. ‘Keep your fingers crossed that it’s not too far because if it is we’re moving the whole damn house, and I have a feeling that this big house is going to be hellishly difficult to shift.’

I’m in the car, next to Jamie, and even though he’s gorgeous and I could hardly take my eyes off him before, I’m concentrating on nothing but Victoria now. How could this have happened? It’s unbelievable.

‘I know the Beckhams well, you know,’ says Jamie.

‘What did you just say? Pull over!’

He looks at me. ‘I know them well. I didn’t say anything earlier in case you thought I was being showy or something, but, yeah. You know – me and Victoria, we’re pals.’

‘Pals? My God. I think she’s the most wonderful person on earth. I’d die if I could meet her. I think she’s perfect.’

I’m struggling to breathe all over again. This is so exciting.

‘I used to be her driver.’

‘No!’

‘Yep,’ he replies. ‘Their personal chauffeur. I’ll introduce you some day, if you like. Not today – it would be rude to go barging in there – but someday soon.’