We get of the tube at convent Garden, run up the down esculater and emerge on to a chaotic street stuffed with tourists and street performers. A very beautiful girl walks past, her short dark hair framing her face perfectly. She winks at me then continues on her way.
"I think I know her," I say.
"Of course you know her you silly twerp. That's Sheelin Angel, the girl who wrote "Peace Order" AND sang the theme tune AND actually acted in the film. AND now I have missed my chance to get her to sign my copy of the book. Thanks a lot."
"Your welcome." I told her whilst thinking that I was sure I knew her from somewhere else. I just couldnt put my finger on it.
We continue walking before Cat stops, mesmerized by this guy in a peanut costume singing this song warning us about the dangers of feeding a goldfish peanuts.
We move into the main square. It is this like amazing market with loads of these random stalls selling chlorophyll, acrobats and many other weird and wonderful things.
Cat is already cruising the stalls; sniffing handmaid soap, tasting samples of fudge. When I approach, stallholders stuff all their stuff in padlocked boxes and move their samples out of reach. I watch Cat flirting with all the stallholder selling hand maid chocolates. She has so much confidence.
We enjoy the stalls for a while, then, all of a sudden, Cat pulls me up to the door of a very posh looking hotel. She grins at the hotel porter and he holds the door open for us.
I nearly drown in the thick carpet and Cat has to pull me out.
"What is this place?" I ask her.
"The Savoy hotel," she wispers. I pass out and wake up in a velvet armchair, "Cat! What are you playing at??"
"I am playing at a game called luxery. Its fun, trust me." She smiles at a passing a waiter and he dropped the tray full of tea that he was carrieing to rush over and take our order, "Tea for two please."
"Certainly miss," the waiter said, whilst smiling like a mad man. Then he glared at me, "Young man, take off your hat, we have a very strict dress code, you know." He scanned the rest of my outfit, as if checking for holes, but he obviously found nothing. As if I would wear anything that could repulse the one true love of my life as much as holes. And no, I am not talking about Cat.
We sit and wait pationtly. Within seconds, a large group of waiters are crowded around our table, all desperately trying to atttend to her every need in the small space. I drank my tea in silance, with a bemsued expression on my face as I watched Cats Fan club obbseing over her. She smiled at them and insested in her soft sweet voice that, no, she did not need anything else and yes, she would call if she changed her mind. A supermodle like waitress walked past and no one even glanced at her. She was clearly very put out by this and slammed the bill onto the table, glaring at Cat.
I glance at the sheet of paper and do a double take. £730 for two teas????? Cat glances down, then wispers something in the ear of one of the waiters. He blushes, then procedes to take out his wallet, pull out a large wad of cash and hand it to her. She counts the bill from that, hands it over to the angry waitress and pockets the rest. Then she stands up gracefully, waiting for me to follow suit. Then she kisses every single one of the waiters, links arms with me and we walk out of a side door, heads held high. Cat starts to laugh, and suddenly the whole sittuation seems just way too wierd so I start laughing. The doorman doesnt seem to mind; he tips his hat to us with a grin.
We skip together, hand in hand, away from the Savoy. Towards the next of the many wonders of London.
"Ever been on the London eye?" Cat asks. I HAVE!!!
"No, never."
"We should totally do it NOW!!"
We run down to where a clump of tourists are queing to get on a river cruiser. Cat pulls me into the center of a group of Italian teenagers.
"Ah," She says, her accent perfect, "Spagetti."
We follow the crowd onto the boat. No one asks us for money or tickets. The French teachers dont seem to notace that they have aquired two extra students.
"Always works," Cat wispers to me. Then she rases her voice back to odinary speaking, "Pizza."
"Pasta," I answered.
*************************************************************************************
Later, as we press our noses aginst the glass of the pod in capsual 17 of the Londen eye, I try to forget about the most expensive dog ever, about mum and the flats and being excluded. I just lean against the glass and think about the beautiful girl holding my hand. It's dusk and the water looks shimery and bright, reflecting the glinting lights strung out along the Thames Embankment.
"I could stay hear forever," I tell Cat.
"Me too," She says and just for a mument, notheing else matters.
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