‘I’ll make you a batch of scones to get you started. I’m sure your flatmate would like that.’ The thought of Ramona in her gold hot pants bothering about scones felt so incongruous that she inadvertently scoffed.
‘Oh, all right, then, I won’t. But, believe me, there’s very few people in my experience that don’t appreciate a good scone.’
It turned out she was right.
* * *
Saturday at 11 a.m. on the dot she and Mam, both laden down with cardboard boxes, knocked on the door marked 16D. From inside they could hear the beat of loud, pounding music, which stopped dead. A moment later the door was flung open by Ramona, her bleached hair tied up in a brightly coloured headband; she was dressed in red leggings, the chunkiest pair of runners Cassie had ever seen, which added another couple of inches to her height, and a T-shirt that said: ‘Attitude Matters’.
‘Come in, babies,’ she hollered. ‘I was just hoovering.’
Which seemed unlikely, as the hoover wasn’t even plugged in. This time the curtains in the living room were thrown open to create a somewhat more lively feel, but the shiny pole was still the focus of the room. A pile of richly coloured ostrich-feather fans was strewn across the sofa.
Mam clapped her hands like a child at Christmas.
Cassie’s heart sank. Mam had a way of becoming obsessed by people she saw as exciting, a remnant perhaps of her own uneventful life. There was more than a little Shirley Valentine in her. Cassie’s fear was that, having asked her to clear out of the family home, Mam would now try to follow her.
‘Attitude matters, it certainly does! A girl after my own heart,’ she cried. ‘Oh my God, look at the pole – go on, show us how you do the dancing.’
There was no need to ask twice; Ramona hit the sound system and as the strains of Ariana Grande filled the room, she handed her phone to Cassie and explained, ‘For my Insta feed, just press play and keep it centred, OK?’
She grabbed the pole high up, flipped her body upside down, did the splits and rotated slowly, lowering herself to the ground. Cassie had seen things like that on film, but up close it was even more obvious just how much strength and control were required.
Mam was enchanted, clapping like a small child at a circus show, which in fairness, it pretty much was.
‘Isn’t that fabulous! See, now,that’sperformance.That’sentertainment.’
Cassie was stung by the implied unfavourable comparison, and for one awful moment was terrified that Mam would clamour to have a go herself, but fortunately just then she remembered the scones and produced them triumphantly, like a magician pulling a rabbit out of her tote bag. Ramona accepted the box like a winning cheque from the Lotto. In absolute fairness to Mam’s tact, she declined a coffee, with the excuse that she’d arranged to meet Eric in Roly’s Bistro round the corner for brunch – where they served the most scrumptious omelettes, she explained – and she’d hate to spoil her appetite, but another time would be absolutely gorgeous. As Mam made her exit, waving and blowing kisses, Ramona watched her go. ‘You’re so lucky, your mother is amazing .?.?. I mean, there she is heading off to meet her little man to have their little omelettes, it’s so cute.’
Which was all true. It was just .?.?. Sometimes it was easier for other people to see that than it was for her. And she’d no doubt that Mam probably felt the same way about her.
* * *
Later that evening, Cassie unpacked her clothes and hung them up in the cavernous wardrobes. She placed Ronron, her balding stuffed rabbit, on the bed, plugged in her lava lamp and arranged her budget toiletries in the chi-chi en suite. She gazed doubtfully at the incongruity between the high-end setting and her humble possessions. Just then, there was a loud knock, causing Cassie to jump.
‘Hey, hon .?.?. can I come in?’
Cassie pulled open the door and Ramona, now dressed in a gold dress with a skater skirt and red platform shoes, paraded in and plonked herself on the bed.
‘Oh, hi, I was just putting my things out.’
An unreadable expression crossed Ramona’s face as she looked around, taking in every detail almost hungrily.
‘My Lord .?.?. this room really transforms with every new person who lives here.’
OK, so had the place been host to a succession of occupants?
‘I’m going out clubbing later,’ she announced, which explained the even more arresting outfit than usual, as well as her makeup, which was as good as what last season’sDrag Showwinner wore.Is there anything this girl can’t do?Cassie thought.
‘Let’s open a bottle of wine and order a little Chinese to celebrate your first night – how about that?’
It was exactly what Cassie felt like doing. She had to admit there was always a bleakness about the first night in a new apartment, and she’d had more than a few of those over the years.
Cassie seated herself on a Perspex chair at the glass table in the kitchen, as Ramona presented her with a large, very chilled glass of Sauvignon Blanc. In fairness, she couldn’t have been kinder or more welcoming; nonetheless, Cassie was a little anxious: she’d taken a wild leap into the unknown and was now looking around to see where she’d landed.
‘Come on, let’s take a shot for Insta.’
Ramona leaned in and snapped the two of them, cheers-ing the lens. She studied the photo, switched on the beauty filter and smoothed out any imperfections in the faces, highlighting cheekbones and shading hollows so they both looked dewy-faced and glowing and all of about twenty-three.
