Planet Janet in Orbit (2 page)

Sappho was looming in the living-room when I got home. (And when I say
LOOMING
, I mean it. I’ve never seen anyone
SO PREGNANT
– she looks like she’s carrying triplet elephants. Given her sexual preference, I find it
ASTOUNDING
! You’d think lesbians would be incapable of pregnancy, wouldn’t you?) Sappho wanted to know how I like the Working Life. I said I don’t think it’s a patch on the Life of Leisure. After that, all she talked about was indigestion and back pain, etc. (all of which are apparently integral parts of pregnancy). It was dead boring so I went to my room to think about Ethan, which is a lot better than thinking about morning sickness!

The only reason I didn’t burst into tears and
WALK OUT
when the man who ordered the Chihuahua Chicken yelled at me so much that I knocked his water over (For God’s sake – chicken … beef … what’s the difference? They’re both full of hormones!) was the thought that I was going to see Ethan again. Even when Miss Bazooms took over, I didn’t lose it. Not even when she told the bloke I was
NEW
and hadn’t caught on yet in this
très
patronizing voice.
You’ll see that face again,
I told myself.
Be cool…
God must be feeling a bit guilty about me, because for once this demonstration of maturity and self-discipline was actually
REWARDED
instead of punished. Ethan was right where I left him yesterday! His smile nearly turned me to mush but I rallied enough to ask if he was waiting on tables because he wants to be an actor. He said no, he’s waiting on tables because he wants to be a waiter. His
Passion
is travel (he’s already been to India!), and being a waiter means he can always get a job. I said I’m going to South America after my A levels, as I believe that experiencing a new culture is worth
très
more than anything you can get from books, and he agreed. He said South America is his next destination too! He wanted to know where I was planning to go in South America. I know there are quite a few countries down there, but the only ones I could think of at such short notice were Mexico (because I spend half my life filling tiny cups with pickled chillies, etc.) and Colombia. I said Colombia, because Durango is as close to Mexico as I ever want to get! He said he thought that was very brave of me – because of the gorillas. I said I didn’t know they had gorillas in South America; I thought they were only in Africa. He thought this was
HYSTERICAL
. By the time he stopped laughing, I’d worked out that he meant
guerrillas
as in soldiers, not gorillas as in large primates (I must’ve been paying more attention to
HIM
than what he was saying, which is understandable!), so I acted like I’d meant it as a joke. Ethan said that, all kidding aside, he thinks it’s important to have a sense of adventure. I totally agreed.

Had to wash my shirt
BY HAND
tonight because I got something red on it (if you ask me, dark
PINK
would be a much better colour for our uniform). I only hope it doesn’t rain, since the Mad Cow refused to put on the heating just to dry my shirt, because it’s
THE MIDDLE OF JULY
. I bet if it was Justin she would’ve cranked it up as high as it would go. Maybe I should’ve bought more than one shirt. [Note to self: When you have children of your own, don’t treat them the way your mother treats you! Be nice to them!]

NEWSFLASH
!!! Mr Saduki isn’t Mexican; he’s from Pakistan. Of course, this piece of information came from Sky (which is where she acts like she’s talking to me from). Trying to be friendly, I asked her if she thought Mr Saduki brought the blankets and crap he’s got on the walls from Mexico with him, and she said did I mean the Mexico that’s next to India? Sky said she reckoned Durango’s the closest Saduki’s ever been to Mexico. She thought it was
ABSOLUTELY HILARIOUS
that I didn’t know he was from Pakistan. I said well, he looks Mexican, and she said he also looks Pakistani and that if I’d ever done any travelling (as
she
has, of course) I’d know that. [Note to self: Discuss with Disha the fact that people from opposite sides of the world can look so alike.]

I live for the end of my
Day of Toil
and my few stolen minutes of
Bliss
with Ethan. If it weren’t for him I wouldn’t put up with this crap for a single second!!! (You wouldn’t believe how
RUDE
and
SNOTTY
a lot of customers are. Today this woman made me take her meal back
THREE TIMES
!!! It took so long she could’ve gone to
MEXICO
for lunch!) Ethan said he overheard the blokes in the kitchen talking and he thinks the reason Mr Saduki wasn’t too bothered about me having any experience is because half his staff quit last week and he’s desperate. I said thanks for the compliment and laughed (which was the first time I’d laughed
ALL DAY
!). Ethan said he likes a girl with a sense of humour! Which is
ME
, of course. Everybody says I should be a comedian. I said it’s too bad the chef didn’t quit. The chef, whose name as far as I can work out is Gonzo, has already told me off
FIVE TIMES
. Ethan said not to take it personally: chefs are known for being temperamental because of the stressful, creative nature of their work. I didn’t want to start disagreeing with him before we’d even had one date, but I don’t see what’s so stressful or creative about wrapping some beans up in a pancake. I definitely think I’m about to
Fall in Love
!!!

Today I got something green on my shirt! [Note to self: If you ever work in a restaurant again, make sure you choose a country whose cuisine isn’t so colourful. Like Tibet. All they eat in Tibet is rice.] If I have to wash it out
EVERY NIGHT
, it’s going to be in shreds by the end of the month. As soon as I get my wages, I’m back to the West End for more white shirts. I wonder if they have any that are stain-resistant.

So how was
YOUR
day, Janet? Bloody awful. I wasn’t even supposed to be working today but someone was ill, so (out of the goodness of my heart) I said I’d do an extra shift. This was a
MAJOR MISTAKE
. First of all, turns out it’s Ethan’s day off. I was so
DEVASTATED
I nearly burst into tears. Naturally, since I was so traumatized, Sky was on top form. (There must be a place people like her and Catriona Hendley go to learn how to be a real cow –
NOBODY
could be born that way!) I couldn’t fill a salt cellar today without being told I was doing it wrong! Saduki adores Sky, of course. Even if it was possible to look
ANYWHERE
and not notice those breasts, he wouldn’t (I’m not even sure he’s ever seen her face!). He’s just a dirty old phoney Mexican. The second reason this day was the bottom of an
abyss of misery
is because I’ve worked my feet to a pulp for nearly
AN ENTIRE WEEK
– and what do I have to show for it?
ABSOLUTELY NOTHING
. (Well, almost absolutely nothing. I’ve got my tips, but they’re not exactly what I was expecting. I thought you were meant to earn a fortune waiting on tables, but I don’t have enough to buy a single white shirt, never mind anything I
ACTUALLY WANT
!!! Apparently they keep your first week’s wages, just in case. I said just in case of what? Saduki said in case I break something. The only thing I’m likely to break in this job is my back or
SOMEBODY
’s neck. Anyway, I got home tonight feeling about as down as you can get without actually falling through the earth. I really could’ve done with a nice meal and some pleasant company.
DREAM ON
! Of course, I’m all on my own. Since my paternal parent moved in with Nan, the Mad Cow must be bored having no one to argue with, because she’s
NEVER
home (even in the summer she’s got her reading group and her yoga and some class that sounds like Pontius Pilate). Also, now that Sigmund’s gone my maternal parent is taking a new interest in her appearance (I don’t have the heart to tell her it’s way too late). Most women her age go in for plastic surgery (which, in the MC’s case, would be
TOTALLY UNDERSTANDABLE
), but she’s decided on a permanent diet instead. Which means there’s no real food in the house. So I microwaved myself a couple of her diet dinners (they taste all right, but there’s not much to them), since even though I’m allowed to eat as much as I want at the restaurant, I wouldn’t touch the crap they serve if I was starving. (I actually saw Gonzo making barbecue sauce out of Coca-Cola and tomato ketchup, which was enough to put me off restaurant food for life.)

Rang Disha. She had chicken and home-made chips for supper (at least someone’s mother still believes in cooking!). D says the tips’ll be better when I start doing night shifts because people drink more and that makes them generous. She couldn’t talk long because her father wanted to use the phone and she no longer has a mobe because her mother threw it in the toilet. (Now Mrs Paski’s going through the
BIG M
. It just never ends, does it?)

When I heard Sigmund getting ready to leave the bunker I went out to say hello. The deal is that he can use the bunker for his clients, but he has to have the Mad Cow’s permission to come in the flat. (Usually I avoid him like spots because I’m still pretty pissed off with him for fooling around with Mrs Kennedy and destroying our unhappy home, but I was
REALLY
desperate for some
Companionship and Sympathy
.) I might as well have gone out on the street and waylaid some total stranger. Sigmund didn’t even ask me how my day was, or if I had terminal blisters or was on the verge of
EMOTIONAL AND PHYSICAL COLLAPSE
or anything like that (I ask you, how can it be possible that people
PAY
this man for his sensitivity and understanding?!!). He wanted to know if we’d heard from Justin!!! I said
ALREADY
? He’s only been gone a few days! Then he talked about himself, of course. Apparently Sigmund moved into his new flat yesterday, so now I can visit him any time I want. (That’s typical, isn’t it? I have to wait on strangers hand and foot just to have some spending money, and he’s got a flat!) I said the anticipation had been practically
KILLING
me. Could he book me in for my twenty-first birthday? He thought I was joking. Then I asked him if he could lend me a few quid because I
DIDN’T GET PAID
. Dr Tell-Me-Your-Problems-I’m-Here-to-Help said
NO
. He said he’s penniless because of the new flat and giving the MC money. Apparently it’s not easy to support two households (pass me the handkerchief!). I said he should’ve thought of that before he decided he needed two women.

I’m too horrifically fatigued to write another word, so I’m going to bed. Though, with my luck, I’ll probably dream about giving the Texas Tacos to the bloke who ordered the Fajita Tijuana and being asked what language I
DO
speak since it’s obviously not English. (I said
MEXICAN
!)

D rang this morning to say that the trip to Greece is off! (She’s not sure why – she doesn’t listen to her parents any more than I listen to mine.) I was v sympathetic, of course, but, to tell you the truth, this piece of news cheered me up no end. Apparently feeling better about your own miseries because of someone else’s is pretty common. Sigmund explained it to me once (God knows
WHY
). It’s called
schadenfreude
, which is German and obviously has something to do with Freud (all of Sigmund’s soul-numbing explanations have to do with Freud!). Disha wanted to go shopping to cheer herself up. She has to rethink her summer wardrobe, since she’s staying in London (i.e. anoraks and umbrellas rather than swimsuits and flip-flops). I wanted to support my local best friend, of course, but I didn’t really feel like going. (I mean, what was the point? I for one do not think shopping is a spectator sport.) So I asked the Mad Cow if she’d let me have some dosh. Since the MC’s a teacher and not a psychotherapist, like Sigmund, I don’t expect her to be kind and understanding – and, as per usual, she didn’t let me down. Apparently she’s trying to pay off her credit cards before she becomes another of the government’s victims of debt. I said what about the money she gets from Sigmund? Surely some of this is meant to be for
ME
– or does she have other children she’s supporting that I don’t know about? She said half the stuff on her cards was
FOR
me (which can’t possibly be true – we all know it’s easier to get the truth out of a politician than money out of Jocelyn Bandry!!!). Was about to ring D back and say I was too
FATIGUED
to go shopping when I had one of my
BRAINWAVES
.
JUSTIN
!!! For the first time in nearly seventeen years I was happy he’s my brother. My Parents’ Other Child has always been the sort of nerd who saved half his Easter egg till June and then lorded it over his baby sister because she’d finished hers by Easter Monday. This obsessive-compulsive behaviour has always
IRKED
me, but now I reckoned it could be an advantage. Most people blow all they have on their holiday and then have to walk home from the airport, but not the Sharer of the Bandry Gene Pool. I knew there was no way he wouldn’t have left some money to come back to.
AND I WAS RIGHT
. It was in an old brown jar mixed in with his chemicals in his darkroom (the world of international espionage lost the greatest agent since James Bond when I decided to become an artist or a writer or whatever!!!). There was
FIVE HUNDRED QUID
in it!!! I feel I’m doing him a
MAJOR
favour. If he doesn’t watch out, he’s going to end up one of those old men who live in
poverty and squalor
till they die and then the police find a fortune under the pee-stained mattress. And besides, it’ll all be back in the jar before he comes home, so what’s the difference? I know he’s not popular any more, but I’m with Karl Marx on this one: From each according to his ability; to each according to her need. My need’s pretty
GINORMOUS
right now. Also found Justin’s mobe in an old camera bag. Took that as well for emergencies, since the MC says they’ll be
skiing in hell
before I get another one after what happened
LAST TIME
. Disha and I had a great time (I really don’t see why anyone would want a hobby like trainspotting when shopping’s so rewarding). I got
SIX
new white shirts so I can do them all in the machine at the end of the week, two more black skirts and two more pairs of black trousers (ditto, one laundry), and a bunch of stuff I
DESPERATELY NEEDED
. Ran into Marcus and Flynn. They’d been buying CDs. (I’ve noticed that though boys may hate shopping the way real humans hate bad hair, they’re perfectly willing to do it if they’re getting something for themselves. Sappho says men are genetically more self-centred because of not being mothers, though the MC is obviously the
EXCEPTION
to this rule.) They wanted to know why they hadn’t heard from me since term ended, and I said because I’ve become a wage slave, haven’t I. Though in my case it’s more of a non-wage slave! Flynn said at least David gets paid for delivering chow mein.