Vanity (33 page)

‘I love it, I love it, I love it!' she cried, skipping over to Poppy to give her a hug.

‘Well, I just wanted to thank you for being such a good friend …'

‘I've hardly been a good friend to you this year, Pops. I'm so sorry, I've been so caught up in stupid jealousy and resentment that I seem to have lost track of what's really important. Forgive me?'

‘You silly sausage, there's nothing to forgive,' said Poppy, hugging her back. ‘And you really do look amazing in that dress.'

‘That is very true,' boomed a voice from the doorway. ‘Wow! You girls sure know how to dress for a road trip!'

Bella laughed. ‘I'm not travelling in this, just trying it on. It's a present from Poppy. I'm Bella, by the way,' she added, wondering what this giant was doing in Poppy's kitchen.

‘Lars.' He walked over and kissed her on both cheeks.

‘Lars, it's always lovely to see you,' said Poppy. ‘But what the fuck are you doing here? You do know that we're heading off this morning?'

‘That is why I am here. I am coming with you! I also want to find my good friend Damian, and I think it would be good for you two girls to have some protection.'

‘We don't need protection,' Bella and Poppy said in unison.

‘Also, Poppy, I can share the driving. You told me that your friend does not drive …'

Bella instantly felt stupid, and Lars smiled at her.

‘… and of course there is nothing wrong with that. But you see that, maybe, I have my uses?' He put his large, square head on one side, imploringly, and both girls laughed.

‘Well, it would be good to have a fellow driver, I have to admit,' said Poppy, looking apologetically at Bella. ‘And you've been so kind and helpful with Damian's depression, ever since we met you, really. There's more than enough room in the car I've hired … What do you think, Belles? It won't quite be Thelma and Louise …'

‘Are you kidding? I think it's really nice of you to offer, Lars, and we'd love to have you on board.' Poppy had told Bella all about Lars, and she was warming to him already.

‘In that case, kiddo, you go put your travelling gear on, then LET'S HIT THE ROAD!'

‘LET'S HIT THE ROAD!' repeated Bella and Poppy at the tops of their voices.

‘Check.' Sam moved a pawn forward, exposing her queen, which now had an open path to Dan's king. She looked up at him, grinning.

‘Shit. Didn't see that coming. You bitch!' He grinned back briefly, then resumed his concentration of the board. After a few minutes, he looked back at her in resignation. ‘Actually, Sambo, I think that's checkmate. You got me again. Congratulations.' He held out his hand, and Sam shook it.

A few weeks had passed since Sam had moved into the Crack Den, and so far the arrangement was suiting them all just fine. Sam had made Ross's old room as nice as she could, filling it with her own stuff: her duvet cover and cushions and photos from home, and her black-and-white posters of old movie stars on the walls. And she always had fresh flowers on her bedside table.

She was savvy enough not to attempt a similar makeover downstairs – it certainly wouldn't suit the boys' grungy image to have fresh flowers on every surface and gingham cushions on the holey old sofa. But she had bought a plain navy-blue throw to cover up most of the damage to the sofa, and a large sheepskin rug that made it a hell of a lot more comfortable when they were all playing Scrabble on the floor. Dan called it their ‘Bond villain' rug.

Before she'd moved in, the boys had lived on takeaways, and the fridge had been stocked with little more than cans of Stella, with the inevitable bottle of cheap vodka in the freezer. Now there was always milk, butter, bread, cheese, ham, salad, yoghurts and plenty of fruit. Sam was far from being a domestic goddess, but she did know that it was important to have proper fresh food inside you. She also emptied the ashtrays and cleared away the empties, with the result that the Crack Den, while still retaining the essence of its former self, was a far more pleasant place in which to live.

‘So then, clever clogs,' Dan said now, cracking open two cans of Stella and handing one of them to Sam, ‘how's the first week of term gone?'

It was Saturday afternoon, and they had the house to themselves. Sienna and Mikey had gone to the cinema, while Olly was shopping for some essential additions to his drum kit. They were all planning to meet at the Hawley later, to celebrate Ross and Katie's engagement.

‘It's been fine, thanks. I showed that dickhead Josh up in two seminars, which is always fun …' Dan raised his beer at her. ‘And I got a first for that dissertation I was working on over the summer.'

‘Doesn't surprise me, but well done anyway. You really are a brainbox, aren't you? What did you get in your A levels?' He was still young enough for this to be a valid question – besides which, he wanted to impress Sam with his own results.

‘A stars in Maths, English, Chemistry and Biology.' Sam tried, in vain, to keep the pride out of her voice.

‘
No way?
' Dan nearly dropped his beer in astonishment. ‘Snap!'

‘Really? Same subjects? Same grades?'

He nodded, smiling at her. He really did have an engaging smile.

‘We got exactly the same A-level results?' Sam couldn't stop smiling back at him. ‘What are the chances of
that
?'

They were looking at one another now in the same way that they had that time on the roof at the Hawley, and Sam could feel her heart starting to beat faster.

‘Um, so what made you turn to music then?' she added hurriedly. Moving into the Crack Den had made it a hell of a lot easier to get over her break-up with Mark, but he had been her first proper boyfriend, and she was still a little bruised inside. So she purposefully ignored the sexual chemistry that occasionally flared up between her and Dan, and concentrated on enjoying the very real pleasure of his friendship instead.

‘I've always been into music. Learned the piano when I was a kid, but my grammar school shut down, and I had to move to a rough comprehensive for sixth form. Continuing piano lessons was
not
an option.'

‘Was that why you took up the guitar?'

‘Yeah. Less likely to get me beaten up.'

Sam laughed.

‘I was studying Chemistry at Leeds when the boys came to play at the Student Union. I joined
them
in a jamming session and they asked
me
to join the band. They weren't much cop without me.' Dan grinned immodestly and Sam laughed again.

‘So you just gave up on your studies?' She was genuinely curious: the concept was almost inconceivable to her.

‘Yeah.' As he looked at her uncomprehending face, he tried to explain himself. ‘I was really bored, Sambo. Realized I didn't want to spend the rest of my life shut up in a lab in a white coat. Reckoned it would be more fun showing off on stage with screaming girls throwing themselves at me.'

‘And is it?'

‘What do you think, clever clogs?' Dan raised his eyebrows at her.

‘I suppose it could be, for a show-off like you anyway. Some of us enjoy using our brains,' said Sam primly, and Dan threw one of the sofa cushions at her, laughing.

She threw it back at him, and soon they found themselves in what was, effectively, a pillow fight, with sofa cushions instead of pillows. They suddenly stopped, and just stood there, gazing into each other's eyes, hearts beating furiously again. Dan's dark-fringed eyes were actually more dark green than brown, Sam noticed.

‘Hey, honey, I'm home!' Olly's cheerful voice and the slamming of the front door made them jump apart from one another immediately. When he walked jauntily into the room, laden with carrier bags bearing cool music-shop logos, Dan was getting another beer out of the fridge, and Sam rearranging the sofa cushions. They were studiously ignoring each other.

‘Well, that was a successful trip.' Olly started to tell Dan all about his purchases, in intricate technical detail.

‘That's great, mate, great,' said Dan distractedly.

‘Yeah, well it's important for us to sound our best on Friday. There are rumours that the A&R man from Pistol Records is going to be there …'

This was enough to get Dan's attention. His head
shot up.

‘
What?
Where did you hear that?'

‘Hellcat texted me this morning.' Hellcat was one of the barmaids at Barfly, the quintessentially grimy Camden music venue the band was playing the following Friday.

‘And you didn't think to tell me till now? Jesus Christ, Olly.' Dan was shaking his dark head in disbelief. ‘I know you're a laid-back bastard, but this takes the fucking biscuit. This could be our
big chance
.' His eyes were shining, his excitement palpable. ‘Right, I think we need some new material. Something to really make the A&R bloke sit up and notice us.'

‘Dan, you're mad – we've got less than a week,' Olly protested, cracking open a beer, switching on the TV and settling down for an afternoon in front of the footy.

‘That's six whole days. You can fritter your life away watching twenty-two overpaid losers kicking a ball around a field. I've got choons to write.'

And he strode off in the direction of his bedroom. Halfway down the corridor, he called nonchalantly over his shoulder, ‘Thanks for the game, Sam.'

The excitement in the house had been building all week, and was now at fever pitch. Dan had been working flat out writing new songs, only stopping for a couple of hours on Saturday night to congratulate Ross and Katie on their engagement. By Tuesday morning he was pleased enough with three of the new songs to add to the best of the band's existing repertoire, and the Flaming Geysers had been rehearsing nonstop ever since.

Much as Sam had been impressed by the music, it was impossible to concentrate on her work with it going on around her, so she had fallen back on the college library, trying to make herself as unobtrusive as possible. She had been amused to see a couple of posters advertising the Barfly gig on the library noticeboard, and wondered if any of her fellow students would be going. She was pretty sure that none of them was aware of her connection with the band.

Now it was Friday evening, and Sienna had come round to the Crack Den early so they could get tarted up together. The boys were already at Barfly, setting up.

‘Oh, God, I'm so excited for them, I could piss myself,' Sienna said in her crude posh-girl manner as she popped the cork on another bottle of Dom Pérignon.

‘Charming.' Sam laughed. ‘But yeah, it is really exciting. I hope the thing about the A&R man wasn't just a bit of music-biz bluffing.'

‘Hmmm. No smoke without fire, I'd say.' Sienna topped up both their glasses and started applying a third layer of mascara.

‘Hope you're right. Dan's been working so hard all week, it would be a shame if it was all for nothing,' Sam fretted.

‘Well, it wouldn't be all for nothing, anyway – Mikey says they've got some brilliant new material out of it.'

‘Yeah, it's awesome.'

‘And why the sudden concern for Dan?' Sienna teased. ‘Is there something going on between you two? I know he fancied you when we first met, but you were still going out with Mark then. And Mikey said he thought something might have happened when I was in Tuscany, but Dan's always denied it …'

Sam felt a wave of enormous gratitude towards Dan. But there was something else too. Something much stronger, which she was only just admitting to herself.

‘Well, he's right to deny it, 'cause nothing's ever happened,' she said hotly.

‘You've gone bright red!' Sienna said with glee. ‘OK, I believe you – I
think
… But you'd like something to happen, wouldn't you? Wouldn't you, wouldn't you,
wouldn't yo
u
? Come on, Sam, you can admit it to me – and I could hardly blame you. Dan is
hot
. If I didn't only have eyes for Mikey, I could easily go for him myself …'

‘Oh, all right then, yes, I think I do like him. Quite a lot actually.' So Sam told Sienna about the pillow fight with the meaningful glances. She didn't tell her about the time they'd nearly shagged though – if Dan had done the honourable thing and denied it, she was going to do the same.

‘Hmmm,' Sienna said thoughtfully, once she'd finished. ‘Well, it would be awfully convenient, wouldn't it? Me with Mikey and you with Dan. Actually, it would be cool as fuck. But I think you're going to have to give him some more encouragement. In fact, I think
you're
going to have to make a move on
him
, if you ever want anything to happen. Remember, you've turned him down once?' (
You don't know the half of it
, thought Sam.) ‘Mr Cool's not likely to risk that again …'

The queue for Barfly was snaking around the block as Sam and Sienna drew up in a black cab on Chalk Farm Road. Sienna had insisted on paying for a cab, and for once Sam had agreed. As the girls got out of the taxi, half the people in the queue turned to stare.

Sienna was wearing a vintage fox-fur coat over denim hot pants so short that the pocket flaps were visible, black opaque tights and boots. With her white-blonde hair teased madly around her face, she looked every inch the rock-star girlfriend. Sam had gone for a black leather biker's jacket over a short, floaty dark green dress that looked amazing against her long red hair. The ensemble played down her large chest but showed off her pretty legs, a combination she was more than comfortable with.

Knowing they didn't have to wait in line, they walked straight to the front of the queue, where somebody was arguing, in loud, objectionable tones, with the bouncer.

‘Look, I've told you, I'll pay whatever you want, just let me in,' the twat was saying, waving a wad of notes into the bouncer's unimpressed face.