London Belongs to Us by Sarra Manning

Author:Sarra Manning [Sarra Manning]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781471404610
Publisher: Hot Key Books
Published: 2016-06-02T04:00:00+00:00

WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING WITH MY SATURDAY NIGHT?

2.53 a.m.

MAYFAIR

One of the richest areas of London, and the most expensive square to land on in Monopoly, Mayfair took its name from the annual fortnight long May Fair that ran in the area from the late seventeenth century onwards.

Much of the area was owned and developed by the richer-than-God Grosvenor family in the mid-seventeenth century, who were then awarded the dukedom of Westminster, which was nice for them. Mayfair quickly became the most fashionable district in London and was the haunt of king of the dandies, Beau Brummel, famed for his elaborate neckcloths, who used to sit in the window of the gentlemen’s club Whites and pass judgement on the outfits of his friends as they passed by. Kind of like a Regency-era Sidebar of Shame.

Famous Mayfair residents include several prime ministers including Sir Winston Churchill, the composer George Frideric Handel and the two greatest Madges that ever Madged: Madonna and Her Majesty the Queen who was born in a house on Bruton Street.

It’s almost too amazing to comprehend. I’m wearing one of Molly Montgomery’s spare T-shirts. A T-shirt owned and previously worn by Molly Montgomery. It’s yellow and in big black block letters it says: A CITY BUILT ON ROCK ‘N’ ROLL IS STRUCTURALLY UNSOUND.

If that wasn’t enough, more than enough, Molly has given me her address in Brighton, so I can post the T-shirt back to her. ‘I’m sure you’re not a stalker,’ she’d said, which goes to show how little she knows about me.

I’m wedged into the back of the Duckie tour van, with all four members of Duckie, Emmeline, Charlie, Vic and Jean-Luc. Preeta and Lucy had begged off and got the nightbus home, Emmeline and Charlie looking longingly after them. Flick and her friends had planned to come with us but when Jane opened the doors of the van and a smell of stale lager and cheesy feet wafted out, they backtracked. ‘Actually there isn’t much room, we’d be better getting in a nice black cab,’ Flick had said, but she’d promised on her pony Melisande’s life to text me once she’d spoken to Tabitha and found out Mark’s location.

Once we get past Piccadilly Circus, it doesn’t take very long to career around the tiny, twisty roads that run parallel to Piccadilly and all the while I’m clenching my fists and thinking about what I’m going to do to Mark. Probably going to start off by bellowing, ‘Oi! I want a word with you!’ then after that I’ll kick it freestyle. I may even kick Mark freestyle, though Emmeline says that violence is only the answer when you’re playing roller derby.

Right now, though, Emmeline looks like she might be rethinking that philosophy. Her eyes promise death by unimaginable pain as Vic gestures at her and Charlie and says, ‘So you two, then? You a thing or is it just a phase you’re going through?’

‘Right, well, first of all sexual identity is a fluid concept and not a fixed point on a graph, and secondly, it’s none of your bloody business,’ Charlie says.

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