‘Oh God!’
Two jolts later and probably another two more bruises on my behind, we’re double parked and unloading the stupid five tier cake. Mr Jaguar is honking, cursing and throwing hand gestures all over the place, but we ignore him. My feet are still bare as I help Kate out with the cake, delivering it into the massive kitchen of Mrs Link, who’s throwing a sweet sixteen for her daughter. I leave Kate to sort the rest and go back to Margo to wait for her, ignoring the car horns as I look for my shoes in the back. They could be anywhere.
Noel Gallagher invades my eardrums, singing Sunday Morning Call from the front seat and my heart – which is currently hammering through exhaustion – starts hammering an excited drum in my chest. I abandon shoe searching to scramble to the front and answer, ignoring the reasons for my keenness to speak to him.
‘Hey,’ I puff down the phone, jumping out and slumping against the side of Margo. I’m fucking knackered!
‘Okay. Now, I know it’s not me that’s worn you out, so do you mind telling me who has you puffing and panting like you’ve been fucked into next week?’
I smile. Oh, his voice is a welcome distraction from the fiasco of the last twenty minutes.
‘What’s with all the car horns?’ he asks.
‘I’m delivering a cake with Kate, we’re blocking the road.’ I explain, but I’m distracted by an overweight, balding, middle aged businessman approaching with a face like thunder.
‘Move the van, you stupid fucking cow!’ he bellows at me, waving his arms about.
Oh shit. Kate, hurry up!
‘Who the FUCK is that?’ Jesse yells down the phone.
‘No one,’ I blurt.
Big baldy kicks Margo’s tyre. ‘Move it, bitch!’ Oh hell, he’s a mad middle aged, balding man.
I hear Jesse growl. ‘Tell me he didn’t just say that.’ His voice is sadistic.
‘It’s fine. Kate’s coming now.’ I lie on a squeak.
‘Where are you?’
‘I don’t know, somewhere in Belgravia.’ I didn’t really take much notice. I was too busy being flung around in the back of Margo to take notes of street names.
Big baldy shoves me. ‘Are you fucking deaf, you stupid bitch?’
Oh shit, he’s going to crack me one. I can hear Jesse hyperventilating down the phone, but then he’s gone. I glance at my screen and see the call has ended. Snapping my head up, I look towards the steps that lead to Mrs Link’s house, but the front door is still firmly closed. I’m shoved in the back again by Baldy.
‘Please, give me five minutes.’ I plead with the irate twat. If Kate was here, he would be on his arse by now.
‘Just move the fucking shed, you dopey cow!’ he roars in my face, making me recoil.
I run onto the pavement, stepping on every stray stone on my way, and up the steps to Mrs Link’s front door.
‘Kate!’ I knock frantically, turning and smiling sweetly at Mr Baldy Jag, earning myself another torrent of abuse. This guy needs anger management. ‘Kate!’ I shout, banging again. Car horns are blaring all around, I’ve got the angriest man I’ve ever encountered hurling abuse at me, my arse is sore and my feet are being stabbed by fucking stones! ‘KATE!!!’ My throat is bloody sore now too. But then I have a thought. Has she left the keys in Margo? I gingerly run down the steps, back onto the street to check Margo’s ignition, going around the back to avoid baldy.
It would seem that he’s not so willing to let me evade him, though, and I collide with his fat, sweaty body as I reach the driver’s door. ‘Oh!’ I cry, getting a waft of stale body odour.