“If he doesn’t know about the letters,” Efia repeated, “Maggie’s gonna snap at him, and…” She glanced over towards me. “I’m not sure he’ll be able to handle it.”
I sat up in the chair a bit, trying to look like I could “handle” it.
Ben blew his cheeks out. “OK, so, when the post comes each morning, one of us needs to sort through it. Now, what you’ll find is a lot of very angry letters, printed in red ink, with words like ‘Final Demand’ and ‘Urgent Action Required’ written on them.”
I nodded. “Take those to Maggie.”
“No,” Ben said. “Do not take those to Maggie. Those ones aren’t important … apparently. Take those, she’ll bite your head off and tell you you’re playing right into the hands of the capitalist elite.” He took a sip of his drink. “The ones you take to Maggie are the ones that say they’re gonna send actual bailiffs or repossess us. They’re the ones she’ll sort out, as and when they appear. The rest – you just file them.”
“In the bin,” Efia added.
Ben shrugged. “Yeah, wherever really, she’s not interested in them.”
“Is Wonderland in trouble?” I asked.
Efia snorted. “I think the term might be ‘screwed’,” she said, staring up at the stars.
Ben tutted. “We don’t know that for sure.”
“Town’s becoming too cool now,” Efia said. “Mum got made redundant from her bar job ’cause they turned it into a trendy gastropub and then didn’t rehire any of the old staff.”
“That sucks,” I said.
Efia sighed. “Gentrification, isn’t it? And I’m not sure the hipsters want amusement arcades, either. I’m sure it’ll last the summer though,” Efia said. “If it’s the job you’re worried about.”
I took another gulp of vodka. It wasn’t the job I was worried about. It was the increasing sense we were all being edged out. There was too much change happening in Newsands. It was our town. It didn’t belong to people from London. Surely some things we should be able to keep?
Efia was looking at me, grinning. “So, Alex, have you got a boyfriend?”
“Um, no,” I said. “What about…” I mean, he would almost certainly be with someone because fate is never that kind to me, so why was I even asking? “You guys?”
“I’m single,” Efia said, brightly. “My last relationship was last summer, with this girl who was staying on some kind of summer camp. Oh my god. She was a nightmare. Turned out she was a kleptomaniac. Literally, anywhere we went, she would nick stuff. It was really stressful.” She looked expectantly at Ben, who just smiled and nodded. “Ben’s got a girlfriend…”
Of course. Fate was being as predictable as ever.
Ben crossed his arms. “Why did you say it like that?”
“Like what?” Efia said.
“Like with that little edge in your voice when you said ‘girlfriend’?”
Efia chuckled. “OK, well, maybe it’s because you never speak about her and she’s a total mystery. Maybe that’s the reason.”
Ben’s eyes widened. “I’ve spoken about her!”
Efia shifted in the hammock and turned to me. “On the day we first met, he told me ‘Bella’ was travelling over the summer, and when I asked ‘Who’s Bella?’ Ben said, ‘My girlfriend’ and then deflected my attention by asking if I fancied going for YO! Sushi one day after work, because then all I could think about was panko prawns and not the enigma that is ‘Bella’.” She leaned slightly further forward towards me and lowered her voice a bit, like it was secret. “He’s cunning like that.”
Ben blew a breath out. “I mean, OK, I guess I’m just not one of those people who talks about themselves a lot—”
“No, no, no, no!” Efia chirped. “I know plenty about you. It’s Bella who remains cloaked in secrecy … but that’s fine, maybe it’s private, and I respect that. And I believe you.”
Ben stared at her. “What do you mean, you believe me?”
“That’s she real.”
“Of course she’s real! Oh my god, Efia, she’s real!”
Efia held her hands up. “OK! Sorry! You’re very defensive, it’s weird.”
“She’s real! I have … a photo!” Ben started pulling his phone out of his pocket.
“Does it have a Getty Images watermark?” Efia smirked.
I couldn’t help but snort. “Oooh! She … that is … ha! That’s … yeah,” I said.
“Why would I go to the effort of finding and paying for stock photographs of my imaginary girlfriend when I could just pull something off Google?” Ben shook his head. “Makes no sense. And why would I lie anyway?”
“Because boys are full of crap,” Efia announced. “Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.”
“You’re such a wind-up merchant!” Ben shook his head and smiled at her. Dimples. I really needed to get over those dimples. Especially now. Now he had a girlfriend. However vague she was. I took a good mouthful of my drink, telling myself, firmly, that I must not, under any circumstances, repeat my previous mistakes. I must not fall for this boy. This couldn’t be Will all over again.
I became aware of something warm, moist and slightly rough tickling me, and glanced down to see Artoo Dogtoo enthusiastically licking my ankle. He looked up, as if to check if this was OK, so I gave him a small nod, and he happily carried on. At least someone thought I was tasty.
Efia was still smiling back at Ben. “How did you and Bella meet anyway?”
“School. We’re in the same year.”
“Ohh!” Efia said. “So she lives round here?”
A flicker of annoyance flashed across Ben’s face. “Yes! Did you think she was just an internet girlfriend who’s really a fifty-year-old man who’s trying to get me to send him dick pics?” He looked between us both. “I mean, not that I would send dick pics to anyone, but you get what I mean?”
“Uh-huh,” Efia said. “Parents?”
“Yes, massive surprise, but she does have parents – she wasn’t genetically engineered and raised in a laboratory.” He took a breath, and looked like he was making a real effort to dial back the sarcasm about ten notches. “Mum’s a GP, dad runs a software company.”
“Oooo!” Efia cooed. “Minted.”
Ben shrugged. “I guess. Don’t know what she’s doing with a pauper like me.”
I held my finger in the air and they both looked at me. “It’s not … money … shouldn’t always … a thing, see?” It appeared my lips weren’t working properly. Either it was the concussion or the vodka.
“Heartfelt and important words, buddy,” Ben said, patting my leg.
I downed the remainder of my drink.
“Artoo Dogtoo! No!” Ben said, clocking what was still happening around my ankles. “No licking!”
“He’s fine,” I said.
Ben cocked his head, and Artoo Dogtoo cocked his head back, both staring at one another in this battle-of-wills, until Artoo made a little whimper of defeat, and lay down on the grass, paws out in front, resting his chin on top of them.