Looking for Andrew McCarthy

Julia drew in a breath and went very, very quiet.

‘She’s … pregnant?’

Siobhan burst into enormous sobs.

‘CUNT,’ said Ellie.

They clung onto Siobhan as best they could until she could finally talk again, which was a long time, and a couple of emergency rounds of Bloody Marys, and lots of vicious and vengeful plotting and grimly muttered curses later. Eventually Siobhan quietened enough to hold up her hand a second. She fumbled about in her bag.

‘I’m going to get him,’ she snivelled. ‘So many ways. Starting here, with the only fucking thing he cares about.’

Gulping madly she held up Patrick’s gold card.

And with her other hand she drew out four return tickets to Los Angeles.

‘Oh, crap,’ said Colin sulkily, doing a quick head count.

The Sure Thing (#ulink_5db03fca-1f68-54ea-a9fc-caf217d65107)

‘… and I thought when we’re driving up through the desert we should stop and pick up hitchhikers.’

‘Sorry, did you just say hitchhikers or no hitchhikers?’ said Arthur, turning his picture of the Grand Canyon upside down.

‘Yes hitchhikers. You know – like Thelma and Louise.’

‘Or The Hitcher! I think I’m going to recommend No Hitchhikers.’

‘Oh, yeah. Hmm. Also, can we go to San José?’

‘Don’t start,’ Arthur grimaced. ‘Oh, okay. Are you appraised of the route?’

Ellie giggled.

‘I cannot wait till you lot fuckin’ disappear,’ said Big Bastard. He was slumped in his armchair, blithely chopping between sports channels, watching anything from ping pong to women’s gymnastics. Particularly women’s gymnastics. Outside it was pissing it down and the pictures of palm trees seemed more alluring than ever.

‘Where’s Siobhan tonight?’ asked Julia, lying on the carpet under Loxy’s big arm, licking the top off a French Fancy.

That morning in the restaurant, Siobhan had handed over the tickets then stood up saying, ‘I don’t care if you use them or not. I don’t care if you chuck them in the bin. Just can everyone stop talking about how pettily miserable they are all the time and fucking do something about it? Then those of us who truly are miserable can get on with it in peace and quiet.’

Ellie looked up. ‘She’s keying his Suzuki jeep. In stripes.’

‘I still can’t believe it,’ said Julia. Big Bastard snorted loudly.

‘Oh, have you got some useful emotional insight to bring to bear on the situation?’ asked Ellie. Big Bastard turned round and opened his enormous meaty paws.

‘He’s a bloke, right. And this girl comes up to him, right. And she’s twenty-one, right. And she’s a ballerina, right?’

All these things were, tragically, true. Big Bastard shrugged.

‘And?’ said Julia.

Big Bastard looked at Loxy. ‘Well, d’uh.’ Loxy didn’t return the look.

‘We’ll try and bring you back an appropriate present from America,’ said Ellie.

‘Like a big, pink, glazed American ham, to remind you of your face.’

‘Or an American goat, to remind you of how your room smells,’ said Arthur. ‘Duckie.’

‘Actually I’m thinking that I might just rent out your room when you’re gone,’ said Big Bastard to Ellie.

‘Who to? Rentokil?’

‘Oh, guys, can we go to Chicago as well?’ said Julia, lifting up the map of America for a second.

‘What’s in Chicago?’

‘Well, I reckon if the Hedgehog gets to look for Andrew McCarthy I should get a stab at the cast of ER.’

‘Nobody like you. Maybe I’ll rent it out to a gorgeous bird with really massive knockers.’

‘Don’t tell me – who can also do gymnastics?’

‘Maybe. It’s my flat. I could if I wanted to.’

‘Go ahead. Try it. You have my blessing. I only wish I could be there to watch when you’re laughed out of the International Homeless Big Titty Gymnast’s Convention in Munich.’

Ellie spread out a map on the floor.

‘Okay everyone, here are His last known movements,’ she announced.

‘He’s been in a play in New York, a film in Los Angeles and a film in Toronto.’

‘Hang on! No-one ever said anything about Toronto,’ said Arthur, worriedly. ‘November in Toronto – that’s not a holiday, that’s a Ranulph Fiennes expedition. It’s California or nothing.’

‘I don’t think he’s there now. Don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of time to have fun in the sun and hit the red hot Andrew trail!’

‘That red hot fifteen-year-old Andrew trail!’

‘Can we … are we going to go to Vegas?’ asked Loxy suddenly. The others looked at him.

‘Not for any reason! I don’t know why anyone would want to got there! It was just a random city plucked out of the air! I don’t care where we go. Ehm, are we going to … Pasadena?’

‘Make some more tea will you Loxy?’ Julia asked. He did so immediately.

‘I think we should definitely go to Vegas,’ said Ellie. ‘Then maybe as well as getting to meet Andrew McCarthy, Robert Redford might offer me a million pounds to sleep with him. What a holiday this is turning out to be.’

‘I’m really looking forward to this aren’t you?’ tried Loxy as he and Julia walked home through the pounding rain.