Lizzie couldn’t decide if she was really excited about her proposed date or plain terrified. So much was so romantic – the way Rich had torn up his cigarette packet for her to write her telephone number on and put it in his top pocket looking intensely into her eyes. But other parts made her scared stiff. Supposing he wanted to meet her in the pub? She had never gone into a pub on her own, not even the cosy pubs in her home village, pubs where she’d gone first with her parents on a Sunday morning when they met their friends. If she wanted to meet her friends at a pub, they met up outside.
Supposing Rich didn’t ring her? He might either lose the cigarette packet or lose interest. She examined how she’d feel if this was the case. There was a large amount of disappointment but a good measure of relief too.
But he did ring, the next evening when they were all settled in their multi-purpose basement. Alexandraanswered the phone and then said, ‘Lizzie? It’s for you.’
‘Hey,’ said Rich, sounding sexier than ever on the telephone. ‘Do you still want to come and hear that new group we were talking about at Nessa’s?’
It took Lizzie a second to work out that he meant Vanessa. ‘Oh yes. Please,’ she added, the manners of her childhood deeply embedded.
‘Cool. But you will never find the Earl of Sandwich on your own. We’ll meet at the Odeon, Leicester Square. Can you find that?’
‘Of course!’ said Lizzie blithely. She’d heard of it, which was halfway to knowing where it was. Besides, she knew Alexandra would help.
‘Good. I’ll see you there at seven o’clock on Friday.’
‘Lovely,’ said Lizzie and then could have bitten her tongue out. She should have said ‘cool’ or ‘great’ or any bloody thing apart from ‘lovely’.
Everyone was looking at her when she put down the phone. ‘Was that your date being organised?’ asked David.
‘Yes,’ said Lizzie, as casually as was possible given that she couldn’t breathe properly from excitement. ‘We’re meeting outside the Odeon in Leicester Square.’
‘When?’ asked David.
‘Friday.’
‘Damn,’ said David, ‘I can’t give you a lift. I’ll have to have the car packed. I’m doing Portobello on Saturday morning.’
‘And I’m going with you,’ said Alexandra. ‘I haven’t done a market for ages and I have things to sell.’
‘It’s OK!’ said Lizzie. ‘I’m perfectly capable of going on the bus.’
‘What you must do’, said David, in fatherly mode towards his young housemates again, ‘is put money in your bra, in case you get separated from your handbag. Then you can always get home.’
‘That sounds just the sort of thing Gina would say,’ said Lizzie. ‘And I’ll definitely do that.’
‘It always gives you a bit of a shock when you wake in the morning and see a pound note in your bra,’ said Alexandra, obviously a money-in-your-bra veteran. ‘You feel as if you’ve become a call girl without noticing.’
‘I’m sure even I would notice if that happened!’ said Lizzie. ‘Now I must think of what to wear.’
‘Why don’t you make something with that length of velvet we found?’ suggested Alexandra. ‘We can sprinkle it with Eau de Cologne to disguise the musty smell.’
Lizzie considered. ‘It would have to be a short dress,’ she said. ‘There isn’t a lot of it. Or much time.’
‘You look gorgeous,’ said David on Friday evening when Lizzie appeared in the basement for inspection.‘That little dress has worked out really well. You know how to work a sewing machine, young Lizzie.’
‘Not too short?’
David pursed his lips. ‘Well …’
‘It’s fine!’ said Alexandra. ‘And I like your hair. It’s softer now it’s grown a bit.’
‘I couldn’t get my fringe to lie flat even though I put Sellotape on it when it was damp.’ Lizzie peered in the mirror that hung near the door but as it was antique and the light was bad just there, she didn’t get much of an impression of what she looked like.
‘Just don’t get into trouble,’ said David. ‘And if things get difficult, or you want to escape, ring me.’
‘But, David, I’ve got the money in my bra if that happens! I can take a taxi home.’ She smiled at him and shook her head. ‘You do look after us well – you are so kind.’
He shrugged. ‘Someone has to look after you skittish young things.’
