Browns on South Molton Street. She is in combats, trainers, and a little pink T-shirt that sits just above her belly button, revealing an expanse of tanned skin. She looks me up and down when we?ve kissed hello.
?You look very formal. Have you been working this morning?? she asks.
This is not going to go well.
We decide to go for a coffee first. Last time I saw her, Candy insisted on drinking cocktails??makes shopping so much more fun, don?t you think???but today she is ordering a large latte with extra cream. I decide to order the same thing?it?s sunny but windy outside and I need warming up.
We sit down in the Starbucks next to Office Shoes and I find that I am actually rather excited. I can?t wait for Candy to say ?So tell me, what?s going on with you,? so that I can give a little smile and say ?Oh, you know, the usual. Although, you know I bumped into Mike recently? Well, you?ll never believe it, but he?s been pursuing me . . .? She?ll probably squeal and fill me in on his side of the story (?He just called me up and asked how you were?said he?d seen you in the street and he just couldn?t stop talking about you?), and we can laugh about it. I can talk at length about the relative merits of David and Mike, and the problems that come with being so darn desirable. And then we can go shopping and buy some fabulous new clothes to go with my fabulous new heartbreaker image.
Our seats are by the window and the sun is streaming through the glass, giving the impression that it?s summer even though it?s barely April. The coffee shop is full of glamorous-looking people with huge numbers of shopping bags. I notice that none of them are from shops that I frequent?I don?t suppose Top Shop and Oasis bags really hold their own against Miu Miu and Fenwicks.
Maybe I should start buying designer clothes like Candy. I wonder if Mike would take me shopping with his platinum credit card and then I immediately feel guilty. David hates shopping, unless it?s for gadgets?he can happily spend four hours finding out just how many functions a television has, but try and get him into French Connection and he suddenly remembers how much work he?s got to do. But he is my boyfriend and I love him. There is no way I would ever go shopping with Mike. I?ll just max-out my own credit card like normal people.
Candy has arranged herself delicately over her chair. She is looking amazing. Her cheeks are pink, her skin is glowing, and her blue eyes are gleaming. I resolve that I will only try clothes on in shops with separate changing facilities.
I wait for her to start talking, but strangely, she?s silent.
?So,? I begin. ?How?s things??
She?s about to start talking, when, before I can help it, I interrupt with ?Seen much of Mike??
It?s no use. I just can?t wait for her to tell me about her life. I?ve been bottling this Mike thing up for days, and I need to talk about it. I try to sound nonchalant, but unfortunately the question comes out a bit quickly, with a little bit too much emotion attached.
Candy looks up sharply.
Okay, so maybe that wasn?t the best thing to say. I?ve got to impress upon Candy that I am over Mike, but that he is obviously not over me. Far from it. Maybe I should try a different tack.
?I mean, well, you?re friends, aren?t you?? I mutter, trying to make out that there was no significance to my question. I don?t want to just tell her about Mike. I want her to ask. I want her to drag the facts out of me.
?So how are you?? I ask again.
?George, look, I?m sorry we haven?t seen each other for such a long time. I?ve been really busy at work and . . . well, you know. The things is, I kind of brought you out under false pretenses today,? she begins slowly.
Oh God, Mike?s here, I think. He?s asked her to get me out so that he can spend the afternoon with me. I look around, but can?t see him.
Candy is staring into her coffee.
?The thing is, George, I?m pregnant.?
Okay, I was not expecting that. ?Pregnant? Candy, I didn?t even know you were seeing anyone!?
It occurs to me that I wouldn?t really know.
?How . . . how did it happen??
Candy sort of snorts and stares at me. ?George, I don?t think I need to go into that level of detail do I??
?No, sorry, of course not. I just . . . it . . . I?m just surprised, that?s all. So, are you, I mean, do you think you?ll . . .?
?Keep it?? she asks. ?Oh yes, definitely. But I don?t know. I haven?t told my parents yet. I haven?t dared.?
I can see why she?s scared. Candy?s parents are completely terrifying. Even my mother is scared of them?she met them once at a party and couldn?t get away quickly enough. They are like your worst nightmare headmistress and headmaster rolled into one. And they certainly aren?t the sort to embrace single motherhood. Her mother went into a complete decline when Candy had her belly button pierced; the prospect of a baby would probably finish her off.
?So who?s the father? Do you think you?ll get married??
Actually this is really cool. I could be godmother or something. A bad thought comes into my head and I try to push it out with little success. Candy will get stretch marks. Well, I told you it wasn?t a nice thought. But it?s true, isn?t it. She might even get fat and not be able to lose the weight. Okay, Georgie, focus on the real issues here. This isimportant .
?I don?t really want to say who the father is, actually, if that?s okay,? Candy is saying, still staring into her coffee cup. ?He?s . . . well, he needs time to get used to the idea, obviously. But we?re really in love and stuff. I mean, he adores me.?
Wow. Candy pregnant. I can hardly believe it. And even if she doesn?t get married, all her friends are so loaded that at least she?ll be okay financially. I?m sure she will get married, though. Ooh, I could be a bridesmaid. I resolve to be a really good friend and listen to everything Candy says?if she gets married, she?s bound to have really lovely bridesmaids dresses. And, obviously, I want to be there for her on her special day. Bridesmaids generally get presents, too, don?t they?
