Looking for Andrew McCarthy

‘I’m sorry,’ said Ellie grudgingly.

‘I agree with Arthur. You’re just making up problems for yourself – and for everyone else.’ Siobhan opened the door.

‘Maybe next year we should all just go to a restaurant for the Hedgehog’s birthday. Goodnight everyone.’

Ellie waited until the door had slammed shut. ‘Well, you’re not invited.’

‘Don’t you think you’re getting a bit obsessed by this Brat Pack thing?’ Julia said to Ellie gently.

‘No! It’s not like I’m still wearing the button badges.’

‘Hi Fidelity High!’ started playing on the stereo. Julia winced slightly.

‘If we were in California anyway,’ said Arthur carefully, ‘we could probably go to San Francisco, couldn’t we?’

‘What’s in San Frass-isco?’ said Colin.

‘Um … lots of trams,’ said Arthur.

‘Oh, that sounds great.’

‘Well, you’re not coming. Oh God, and I can’t really anyway. I’m saving up for an Eames chair.’

‘You’d rather have an Eames chair than a big adventure?’

‘Mmm,’ said Arthur. ‘Not sure.’

Arthur was a fabric sourcer for an avant-garde designer who made dresses out of industrial waste. He absolutely loved his job but it paid practically nothing.

‘Fine,’ said Ellie standing up. ‘You’re right. Let’s keep the status quo completely. Nobody move. Nobody change. See you all at my ninetieth birthday party. I’ll still be in the bathroom, because I won’t be able to get out of the bath of my own accord.’

‘Don’t be like this,’ said Julia. ‘We’ll think about it.’

‘No, you’re right. I should just give up, conform. Maybe if I had a new pair of expensive high heeled shoes my life would be entirely fine again.’

‘Come on,’ cajoled Julia pouring another glass of wine. ‘We could watch a video. Even Mannequin, if you like.’

‘Ah, no, I say no way,’ said Arthur. ‘In fact, that would probably be the least persuasive thing you could possibly do.’

‘Looks like you had a brilliant night,’ slurred Big Bastard, wandering in later half-cut. Ellie was hunched on the sofa, watching Mannequin by herself, the others having made it up until the entrance of Holly Wood, and wondering how many Pringles you could eat before you burst your own colon.

‘Shut up Big Bastard.’

‘Where are my KitKats then?’

‘A big mouse took them and ran away.’

‘Uh.’ He looked at her squinty-eyed.

‘What?’ said Ellie. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’

He must have sensed her unhappiness, she thought. God, talk about taking your comfort where you could find it. She prepared to unburden herself to him.

‘You know, I feel like I’ve had a really tough time recently, and I don’t quite know why …’

‘I can’t believe we’ve lived in this flat for a year and never shagged,’ said Big Bastard thoughtfully.

Ellie’s mouth dropped open.

‘That’s because I’ve seen what you let go down the shower plughole,’ she said, furious that she had been expecting even an ounce of sympathy from this lout.

‘D’ya want to?’ he said, sitting down next to her and draping an enormous meaty arm over her shoulders.

‘Of course not!’ She shook him off. ‘And anyway, what about Carmel?’

‘Yes, she’s a bit skinny, but. Not like you.’

‘Oh I see. Excuse me while I go and scrub the toilet bowl with your toothbrush, you big moron.’

‘You’ll be back,’ he sneered. ‘Won’t be able to resist a bit of big beef loving.’

‘Why don’t we see how many things I’d rather do than that?’ yelled Ellie, heading for the bathroom.

‘Number one: cutting off my own fingers.

‘Number two: pooing my pants on the tube.

‘Number three: watching my dad have sex. With your dad.’

She took his toothbrush and ran it round the toilet rim.

‘Number four: moving to Afghanistan.

‘Number five: going camping with Anne Widdecombe.’

She dropped the toothbrush in the lavatory, and fished it out distastefully.

‘Number six: smuggling heroin through Thailand …’

‘You’ll be back,’ yelled Big Bastard. ‘You’re desperate for it.’

‘… up my chuff. Number seven: eating an old man’s dandruff.’

‘You love me really.’

‘Number eight: retaking my maths A-level.

‘Number nine: being sick and eating it.’