shuts.’
With a glimmer of a smile Sally said, ‘Has anyone ever told you you’re a little bit weird?’
‘Excuse me.’ Lola raised her eyebrows. ‘You’re the one with the flashing antlers on your head.’
The corner shop was still open. If Sanjeev wondered why his best customer when it came to magazines, chocolate and ice cream was all of a sudden buying up cabbages, he didn’t ask. By ten to eight the evil stench of boiled cabbage was thick in both Lola’s flat and Gabe’s. When the saucepans had been removed from Gabe’s kitchen Lola found a music channel on the TV in her own flat and turned the volume up to maximum. Eminem blared out and Sally took off her antlers, shaking out her hair and kicking off her shoes.
At three minutes past eight they heard the front door being opened downstairs, then two people entering Gabe’s flat. Lola gave it a few seconds then crossed the landing and thumped on the door.
It was opened by a man in a suit. ‘Yes?’
‘Hi there, is he in?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘The Angel Gabriel.’ Lola raised her voice to be heard above the sound of the music. ‘Mr Let’s-Complain-About- Everything.’
The letting agent said frostily, ‘If you mean Mr Adams, he isn’t here.’
‘No? Best news I’ve heard all day.’ Grinning at the potential tenant behind him – gangling, thirties, spectacles, accountantylooking – Lola said, ‘Well, can you just pass on a message from Lola and Sal across the hall, tell him we’re having a few friendsround tonight. They’ll be turning up after the pub and we’d appreciate it if he didn’t give us the usual grief, seeing as this time we’re warning him in advance.’ Leaning forward conspiratorially, she added, ‘To be honest, the police are fed up with him calling them and whingeing about us. I mean, talk about a Neddy No-Mates! If you can’t have a party and a laugh with your friends, what’s the point of living, eh?’
‘Maybe you could leave a note for Mr Adams.’ The letting agent spoke brusquely, keen to close the door on a potentially deal-breaking neighbour.
‘Hang on.’ The gawky accountant-type behind him raised his voice above the thudding hip-hop beat that was now making the floor vibrate. ‘How often do you have parties?’
‘Not often. Two or three times a week, that’s all.’
‘And the smell,’ said the accountant. ‘What is that?’
‘Hmm? Oh, can you notice it?’ Lola shrugged. ‘No idea. It comes and goes in waves –
something to do with the drains, I think. Cost us a fortune to have everything checked out but it didn’t do any good. We thought maybe Neddy No-Mates had buried someone under his floorboards.’ She paused and said, ‘Why do you want to know?’
‘This flat’s been registered with a lettings agency.’ The accountant blinked rapidly. ‘The owner’s moving to Australia.’
‘You’re kidding. Hey, fantastic!’ Hearing footsteps behind her, Lola turned and said to Sally,
‘Hear that? Neddy No-Mates is off to Oz!’
‘To get away from us?’ All of a sudden nine months pregnant beneath her coat, Sally nodded approvingly. ‘Cool. So does that mean you’re going to be our new neighbour?’
‘I, um ...’ Was that a glint of terror behind the geeky spectacles? ‘Well, I’m not ...’
‘Because if you ever fancy a spot of babysitting, I’ve got just the thing for you right here!’ Sally gave her swollen stomach a pat. ‘I mean, just because we’re having a baby doesn’t mean we have to stop doing what we want to do, does it? Whoo-hoo!’ Eminem had given way to Snoop Dogg. Sally, clutching her stomach with one hand and waving the other in the air, executed some enthusiastic hip-hop-esque dance moves. Whoo-hooooo!’
It was a sight to make a grown man nervous. Two grown men, in fact. The geek and the lettings agent edged nervously away. Lola, filled with admiration, prayed that Sally wouldn’t get carried away and attempt to shake her booty.
Imagine the embarrassment if her cushion fell out.
‘How many of you are there living in that flat?’ said the Beek.
‘Just me and Lola and this little creature when he gets here.’ Still energetically gyrating along to the music, Sally pointed gaily at her stomach.
‘Who needs a man when you’ve got a turkey baster?’ said Lola, winking at the lettings agent.
‘Our baby’s going to have two mothers who know how to have fun.’
When the agent and the geek had left the building, Lola turned off the ear-splitting music and threw open the windows in both flats to disperse the nostril-curling boiled-cabbage smell.
‘Gosh, that was fun.’ Sally pulled the balled-up velvet cushion out from under her coat and flung it onto the sofa. ‘Think it’ll do the trick?’
‘It’d do the trick if I was the one looking for a flat.’ Lola took a bottle of white wine from the fridge and poured out two glasses.
‘Poor bloke, he did look a bit stunned. I suppose we just have to wait now. Should I be drinking that in my condition?’
‘You could always have water instead.’
‘Water? Yeurgh, nasty wet watery stuff. No thanks.’ Lola’s phone rang ten minutes later and she leapt on it. ‘What did you do?’ Gabe came straight to the point. Innocently Lola said, ‘Sorry?’
‘No you’re not. I’ve just had a call from the lettings agent,’ said Gabe, ‘telling me that in view of the Situation, I’m going to need to drop my rental price.’
