Dougie’s mother raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. ‘No more than five pounds an hour, I’m sure.’
Four pounds actually. But it was still a mean dig; working at the Cod Almighty was only a temporary thing while she applied for jobs that would make more use of her qualifications.
‘And if I took your money, what kind of a person would that make me?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. The sensible kind, perhaps?’
Lola was so angry she could barely speak; her fingernails sank through the steamed, soggy chip paper, filling the air-conditioned interior of the car with the rank, sharp smell of vinegar.
Something else was bothering her too; up until today, Dougie’s mother had always been perfectly charming whenever they’d met.
‘I thought you liked me.’
‘Of course you did.’ Mrs Tennant sounded entertained. ‘That was the whole idea. I know what young people are like, you see. If a parent announces that they don’t approve of their children’s choice of partner, it’s only going to make them that much more determined to stay together.
Fuelling the flame and all that. Goodness no, far better to pretend everything’s rosy and you think their choice is wonderful, then let the relationship fizzle out of its own accord.’
‘But ours isn’t going to fizzle out,’ said Lola.
‘So you keep telling me. That’s why I’m giving it a helping hand. Goodness, this traffic is a nightmare today. Is it left down here at the traffic lights or straight on?’
‘Left. And how’s Dougie going to feel when he hears what you’ve said to me today?’
‘Well, I should imagine he’d be very annoyed with me. If you told him.’ Mrs Tennant paused for effect. ‘But do yourself a favour, Lola. Don’t say anything just yet. Give yourself time to really think this through, because you do have a brain. And ten thousand pounds is an awful lot of money. All you have to do as soon as you’ve made up your mind is give me a ring when you know Dougie isn’t at home. And I’ll write out the cheque.’
‘You can stop the car. I’ll walk the rest of the way.’ No longer willing to remain in her boyfriend’s mother’s plush Jag, Lola jabbed a finger to indicate that she should pull in at the bus stop ahead.
‘Sure? OK then.’
Lola paused with her hand on the passenger door handle and looked at Dougie’s mother in her crisp white linen shirt and royal chignon. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Feel free.’
‘Why don’t you approve of me?’
‘You risk ruining my son’s future.’ Mrs Tennant didn’t hesitate. ‘We love each other. We could be happy together for the rest of our lives.’
No you couldn’t, Lola. Do you really not understand what I’m trying to explain here?You’re too brash and noisy, you have no class, you’re not good enough for Dougie. And,’ the older woman paused, her gaze lingering significantly over Lola’s low-cut red vest top and short denim skirt complete with grease stain, ‘you dress like a cheap tart.’
‘Can I ask you something else?’ said Lola. ‘How are you going to feel when Dougie refuses to ever speak to you again?’
And, heroically resisting the urge to tear open the parcel of chips and fling them in Dougie’s mother’s face, she climbed out of the car.
Back at home in Streatham — a far more modest house than Dougie’s, which his mother would surely sneer at — Lola paced the small blue and white living room like a caged animal and went over everything that had happened. OK, now what was she supposed to do? Dougie was currently up in Edinburgh for a few days, sorting out where he was going to be living come October and acquainting himself with the city that was due to be his home for the next three years. Doubtless Mrs Tennant had planned it this way with her usual meticulous attention to detail. Her own mother and stepfather were both out at work.The ticking of the clock in the kitchen was driving her demented. Bloody, bloody woman — how dare she do this to her? What a witch.
By four o’clock she could no longer bear to be confined. Deliberately not changing out of her low-cut top and far-too-shortdenim skirt, Lola left the house. What she was wearing was practically standard issue for teenagers on a hot summer’s day, for heaven’s sake — not tarty at all. And if she didn’t talk to someone about the situation, she would burst.
’Ten thousand pounds,’ said Jeannie.
‘Yes.’
‘I mean, ten thousand pounds.’
‘So?’ Lola banged down her Coke. ‘It doesn’t matter how much it is. She can’t go around doing stuff like that. It’s just sick.’
They were in McDonald’s. Jeannie noisily slurped her own Coke through two straws. ‘Can I say something?’
‘Can I stop you?’
‘OK, you say it’s a sick thing to do. And you’re going to say no. But what if Dougie comes back from Edinburgh on Friday and tells you he’s met someone else? What if he sits you down and says, 'Look, sorry and all that, but I bumped into this really fit girl in a bar, we ended up in bed and she’s just fantastic'?’ Pausing to suck up the last dregs of her Coke, Jeannie pointed the straw at Lola. ‘What if he tells you you’re dumped?’
Oh, for heaven’s sake.
‘Dougie wouldn’t do that.’
‘He might.’
‘He wouldn’t.’
‘But he might,’ said Jeannie. ‘OK, maybe not this week, or even this month. But sooner or later the chances are
