‘Did you really pee in the middle of the floor?’ a voice whispers, half laughing, half trying to catch her breath.
‘No. Was that an awful lie?’
‘You could have said the toilets were broken.’
‘Right? I’m just not as smart as you. You OK?’
The door unlocks but doesn’t open. I push it slightly ajar. She looks a little how Cinderella looked when she was told she couldn’t go to the ball. What’s worse is that I know she’s been crying, thanks to the puffiness, the ruddiness in her cheeks.Oh, you poor fair Ophelia.She pops herself back on the closed toilet and I lower myself onto the floor, making a note to dry-clean this outfit later.
‘It’s your birthday, you’re supposed to be having the most fun that any girl could ever have in the whole entire world.’
She gives me a puzzled expression in reply.
‘Did I overdo the princess there?’
‘Yeah. Do you have a real name?’
I smile. She’s seen through all of this: the extra blusher, the decent bra, the synthetic dress that warns me I shouldn’t stand too close to naked flames.
‘Lucy,’ I say, holding out my hand.
‘Pleased to meet you, Lucy.’
I pull some loo roll out of the holder, bunch it up and wipe down my pits. This triggers more of a laugh from her to see a glimpse of me out of character.
‘It’s tiring lugging this dress about.’
‘Is it heavy?’
‘Kinda but I once did a medieval fair and had to be Anne Boleyn. The dress was made out of curtains and had hoops and everything, that was heavy.’
‘Did they cut off your head at the end?’
I chuckle, impressed that this girl knows her history. I went out with Henry VIII from that gig for a month. His name was Jay, he was authentically ginger and had a thing for golden showers. She doesn’t need to know that though.
‘They did. It stung but they reattached it with superglue. Doctors can do marvellous things these days.’
She laughs and the sound breaks the sadness hanging in the air. I hear someone try and push the door open.
‘DON’T COME IN! CLEANING IN PROGRESS!’ I shout over the cubicle. This makes her smile again.
‘That was Penelope Stanton before,’ she says. ‘That woman you stopped from coming in here.’
‘Queen Burberry?’ This induces a bigger laugh. ‘What’s Princess Burberry’s name?’
‘Saskia.’
‘Sassy Stanton. I think I know what sort of girl she is… Not a fan?’
She takes a little pause before answering that. ‘She’s not very nice to me. She calls me Boffy Offy and a sad case. Mum doesn’t see it. She thinks this is one big party so she can show off to the other mums. I didn’t even want this. I’ve not watched a princess film in years.’
‘What did you want?’
‘Trampoline park.’
‘Oooh, they’re mega fun.’
‘Right?’
