Page 3 of Oz
“Yes, you are,” he says doggedly. “You just cover the kindness up with that sharp tongue of yours. You should stop that and let someone see you.”
I shake his arm gently. “You’re the only one to get my soft side,” I say affectionately. “Because I love you.”
“I love you too,” he says happily. “But I didn’t like him. Particularly not for you.”
“Why?” I sigh.
“Because he saw the outside of you.” He flaps a hand up and down by my face. “You’re bloody gorgeous. All that black hair and those cheekbones I could use to cut paper and those big eyes. And you’re so small and cute.” I shake my head in awe at the diarrhoea of the mouth currently going on. “I mean at first you don’t notice because of your height, but you’re actually really fierce and James should have seen underneath all that.” He shakes his head in a very doom-laden way. “He should have seen enough to be bloody wary, because you might be small, Ozzy, but you’re like a piranha with fucking sharp teeth.”
I laugh, something I didn’t think was possible a few minutes ago. “All the better to eat him with.”
“I hope not,” he says primly. “With that behaviour he doesn’t deserve you munching on any areas of his anatomy.”
We laugh but then I slump and rub my hands down my face. “What the fuck am I going to do now? I’m out of a job, a home, and a boyfriend. It’s like some sort of backwards bingo.”
He laughs but sobers quickly. “You can kip on my sofa as long as you want.”
“No, I can’t,” I say patiently. “Because in the end Richard is going to get cross at that.”
“We’ve been friends since we were kids. My boyfriend understands that.”
“I don’t think he’s quite so understanding about the fact that our behaviour is still the same as when we were twelve. Richard’s lovely and you should never jeopardise what the two of you have for anyone.”
“You’re not anyone. You’re Oz.”
I grab him and kiss the side of his head. “I’m an Oz who needs to sort himself out. Find something I can see through, rather than flitting from one thing to another.”
“You’ll stop flitting when you find the right thing,” he says loyally. “You just need to findyourright thing.”
“Well, it’s not going to be around here,” I say sourly, looking out on the dirty and dusty London street. “Fuck, I’m so tired of here,” I sigh. “Always the same faces, the same conversations, the same jobs. I just want something a bit different to wake me up. Are you okay?” I pause and say curiously as he sits up straight and gestures wildly at me. “Have you sat on a drawing pin again?”
“Shut up,” he gasps. “Oh my God. Perfect. Can’t believe it. Just read it. Here you are and hmm. Perfect.”
“Vowels,” I say slowly. “Verbs and connections. They help sentences come together. Like a barn dance for words.”
“Look.” He reaches into his jacket, pulls out a magazine and points excitedly at a box in what I see quickly are the job vacancy pages in …
I turn the magazine over. “This isThe Lady,” I say slowly. “Is there something you’re not telling me, Shaun?”
“Like what?” He’s instantly and easily diverted. However, this time he snaps back quickly. “It was on the table when I sat down, so I read it while I waited for you.” He taps the shiny pages. “It’s actually got some really interesting articles and recipes.”
I grin at him. “It’s like I don’t even know you anymore. You’ve changed so much.”
He growls at me and taps the page menacingly.
I shake my head. “I can’t imagine what ad I’d be any good for inThe Lady,” I say idly, pulling the magazine towards me. “I’m not nanny or new mistress material.”
“They actually advertise that?” he gasps, looking like he’s thinking of grabbing the magazine back.
“They might as well because that’s what normally happens. It would be refreshingly honest.” I pause before saying in a very posh voice, “I am advertising for someone to take the position of my wife. Lavinia has been a good breeder, but her hips are too wide now and she no longer has the time to pretend to be interested in my boring conversation about stocks and shares and shooting weekends with men like Albert and Wills. I am therefore looking for a younger filly who hasn’t let herself go. Live-in position. Job requirements are the ability to fake orgasms to a high level and look good on my arm. Job tenure is probably short term because second wives don’t last long.”
Shaun stares at me. “You’ve actually got cynicism down to degree level.”
“Thank you,” I say, bowing slightly and making us both laugh. I tap the magazine. “The only job advert in there for me would be one asking for someone who is PhD level stupid enough to move in with their boss.” I laugh. “No references given.”
We both stop and think before he shakes himself like a big dog. “Just read it.”
I obediently look down at the box and read out loud. “A vacancy has arisen for a House and Collections Manager for a manor house in Cornwall. You will need to have excellent management skills and experience of managing a team. A degree level qualification in Fine Art or the History of Art would be desirable but is not essential. Experience in overseeing house renovation is necessary.”
