Page 27 of For Love or Money
‘You should tell him how you feel about the theatre,’ Al said to Lesley with a mischievous grin. ‘Since you’re on a roll.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Peter said, looking delighted. ‘It’s all a dreadful load of old cobblers, if you ask me. But I’m just an old whore at heart, so there I am.’
Nevertheless, Lesley was grateful for the waiter creating a diversion when he returned with their food.
‘So you’re a make-up artist?’ she said to Stella as they all began eating.
‘Yes. That’s how I met Peter.’
‘And you’ve been living in LA? Where are you from originally?’ Stella’s accent was hard to place – a strange mishmash of English and Irish with a slight mid-Atlantic twang thrown in.
‘Oh, all over. I’m a bit of a nomad.’
‘But you’re Irish?’
‘Yes, but I haven’t lived here in a very long time.’
‘Whereabouts are you from?’ Lesley persisted.
‘The west,’ Stella said. ‘A real Nowheresville. Honestly, it’s too dull to speak of.’ She took a sip of champagne. ‘You know that song “Everyday is Like Sunday”?’
Lesley nodded.
‘Well, that dreary seaside town is exactly where I’m from. When I was a teenager I used to think Morrissey was singing about the place I grew up in.’
Lesley exchanged a knowing glance with Al. Stella was being deliberately evasive. ‘Do you still have family there?’ she asked.
‘Stella doesn’t have any family,’ Peter answered for her. ‘So, what do you do, Lesley?’
‘I’m a ... meditation teacher!’
‘Oh, that’s great,’ Stella said, looking at her with interest as Al shot her a ‘what the fuck’ look. She didn’t really have an answer. It had just come out. Maybe because she’d been concentrating so hard on not saying she was a private detective. Or maybe because she’d been working all week on a website for a meditation teacher, so it was the first thing that came into her head. Oh well – what the hell? It was as good a thing to be as any.
‘Well, it’s not as interesting as being an actor,’ she said, ‘or a baker, like Al’s dad.’
‘Have you met my brother?’ Peter asked her. ‘King of the gypsy creams.’
‘No, you’re the first,’ Al said to him.
‘Very wise,’ Peter said with a twinkle in his eye. ‘Best to introduce her to us in small doses – you don’t want to scare the poor girl off.’
‘I don’t scare easily,’ Lesley said. ‘Anyway, even if I did, Al’s worth it.’ She took Al’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
‘Yes, Al is the best of us,’ Peter said warmly.
Lesley thought it was touching Peter thought so highly of Al, even if it was a bit disloyal to his own children.
Peter tilted his head to the side, regarding Lesley closely. ‘You know, you remind me a little of a girl Al used to go out with … oh, years ago now. Do you know who I mean, Al?’
‘No.’
‘Anyway,’ Peter said to Al, ‘I’m glad you’ve ditched … what was that awful woman’s name?’
Al sighed. ‘Cassie. And she ditched me.’
‘Ah well, her loss. And our gain,’ he said gallantly as he poured the last of the champagne into Lesley’s glass. She realised she’d drunk practically the entire bottle single-handed. Al had only had a thimbleful as he was driving, Peter was sticking to water, and Stella sipped hers so slowly that she still hadn’t finished her first glass.
‘I’ve been trying to get Peter to start meditation,’ Stella said to Lesley. ‘You must send me your details.’
