“Tally-ho?” I can’t keep the scorn out of my voice. “That’s your attitude toward men? Tally-ho?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“What about proper balanced relationships? What about commitment?”
Sadie looks baffled. “Why do you keep talking about commitment? Do you mean being committed to a mental asylum?”
“No!” I try to keep my patience. “I mean… Look, were you ever married?”
Sadie shrugs. “I was married for a spell. We had too many arguments. So wearing, and one begins to wonder why one ever liked the chap in the first place. So I left him. I went abroad, to the Orient. That was in 1933. He divorced me during the war. Cited me for adultery,” she adds gaily, “but everyone was too distracted to think about the scandal by then.”
In the kitchen, the oven pings to tell me my lasagna’s ready. I wander through, my head buzzing with all this new information. Sadie was divorced. She played around. She lived in “the Orient,” wherever that’s supposed to be.
“D’you mean Asia?” I hoick out my lasagna and tip some salad onto my plate. “Because that’s what we call it these days. And, by the way, we work at our relationships.”
“Work?” Sadie appears beside me, wrinkling her nose. “That doesn’t sound like any fun. Maybe that’s why you broke up.”
“It isn’t!” I feel like slapping her, she’s so annoying. She doesn’t understand anything.
“Count On Us,” she reads off my lasagna packet. “What does that mean?”
“It means it’s low fat,” I say, a little reluctantly, expecting the usual lecture that Mum gives me about processed diet foods and how I’m a perfectly normal size and girls these days are far too obsessed about weight.
“Oh, you’re on a diet.” Sadie’s eyes light up. “You should do the Hollywood diet. You eat nothing but eight grapefruit a day, black coffee, and a hard-boiled egg. And plenty of cigarettes. I did it for a month and the weight fell off me. A girl in my village swore she took tapeworm pills,” she adds reminiscently. “But she wouldn’t tell us where she got them.”
I stare at her, feeling a bit revolted. “Tapeworms?”
“They gobble up all the food inside one, you know. Marvelous idea.”
I sit down and look at my lasagna, but I’m not hungry anymore. Partly because visions of tapeworms are now lodged in my mind. And partly because I haven’t talked about Josh so openly for ages. I feel all churned up and frustrated.
“If I could just talk to him.” I spear a piece of cucumber and stare at it miserably. “If I could just get inside his head. But he won’t accept my calls, he won’t meet up-”
“More talking?” Sadie looks appalled. “How are you going to forget him if you keep talking about him? Darling, when things go wrong in life, this is what you do.” She adopts a knowledgeable tone. “You lift your chin, put on a ravishing smile, mix yourself a little cocktail-and out you go.”
“It’s not as simple as that,” I say resentfully. “And I don’t want to forget about him. Some of us have hearts, you know. Some of us don’t give up on true love. Some of us…”
I suddenly notice Sadie’s eyes have closed and she’s humming again.
Trust me to get haunted by the flakiest ghost in the world. One minute shrieking in my ear, the next making outrageous comments, the next spying on my neighbors… I take a mouthful of lasagna and chew it crossly. I wonder what else she saw in my neighbors’ flats. Maybe I could get her to spy on that guy upstairs when he’s making a racket, see what he’s actually doing-
Wait.
Oh my God.
I nearly choke on my food. With no warning, a new idea has flashed into my mind. A fully formed, totally brilliant plan. The plan that will solve everything.
Sadie could spy on Josh .
She could get into his flat. She could listen to his conversations. She could find out what he thinks about everything and tell me, and somehow I could work out what the problem is between us and solve it.
This is the answer. This is it. This is why she was sent to me.
“Sadie!” I leap to my feet, powered by a kind of giddy adrenaline. “I’ve worked it out! I know why you’re here! It’s to get me and Josh back together!”
“No, it’s not,” Sadie objects at once. “It’s to get my necklace.”
“You can’t be here just for some crummy old necklace.” I make a brushing-aside gesture. “Maybe the real reason is you’re supposed to help me! That’s why you were sent!”
