‘Oh aye. I’ve sung all sorts. Songs about deodorant. Songs about hair dye. Songs about tampons. You feel aright bloody fool singing those things, I can tell you, but it pays well.’
‘God,’ said Ana, dreamily, ‘imagine getting paid to sing.’
‘D’you like to sing then, Ana?’
‘Uh-huh,’ she nodded and took a sip of tangy margarita.
‘Any good?’
She shrugged. ‘Dunno. I think so. I’ve never sung in front of anyone.’
‘Hmm. Now that’s a situation we might have to rectify at some point. A good voice should never be wasted. It’s like pouring Bolly down the sink.’
‘What were you singing this morning, then?’
‘Oh, my love – this morning were a real low point. Backing vocals for Billie Piper. It doesn’t get much worse than that. She’s a nice lass though, that Billie. Very mature. I told her about Bee. Didn’t know who the fuck I was talking about, but did her best to sound sad, bless her heart. Ironic really, in’t it? That could beherone day, it could be Billie Piper lying dead in her bed and nobody giving a shit and some little teenage superstar of the day saying, Billie Who? D’you know what I mean? That’s the business. That’s the life. That’s just the way it goes. Chews you up, spits you out.’
Tears started plopping out of Lol’s eyes, and Ana quickly handed her a tissue. The two posh girls opposite pretended not to notice but had stopped talking to each other and were sitting stock-still, like little rabbits.
‘D’you think that’s what happened to Bee, then? D’you think it was the music industry? I mean – doyouthink she killed herself?’
Lol shrugged and blew her nose noisily into the tissue. ‘I don’t know, Ana. I really don’t know. It’s all I’ve thought about for the last three weeks. I mean, it certainly looks that way. I can’t see any other explanation. It’s just really painful to admit though, in’t it? It’s like admitting that I wasn’t a good pal. That I didn’t really know her. That our friendship was a sham.’ She sniffed and shot Ana a look. ‘What do you think?’
‘About what?’
‘About Bee, of course. Do you think it was suicide?’
Ana shrugged. ‘It’s the only logical explanation.’
Lol nodded, sadly. ‘It is, isn’t it?’
‘But why? Why would she have done something like that? I mean – did sheseemunhappy?’
‘The thing with Bee was that she was never really happy, was she? Not properly happy. Not after her dad died. And not reallybeforefor that matter. Except when she was young she used to drown it out by partying and drinking and sleeping around and being the original good-time girl. Then Gregor died and her career died and she never really recovered from it all.’
‘But couldn’t she have got help?’
‘Oh – she did. Didn’t she tell you?’
Ana shook her head.
‘Yeah. She did three years of therapy – didn’t get her anywhere. And she were on anti-depressants on and off for fifteen years.’
‘Fifteen years?’
‘Aye. Didn’t she tell you that, either? Jesus. Yeah – Bee just sort of existed really. I don’t mean to say that she went around being miserable all the time, or anything. She was still funny. She still enjoyed herself and was goodcompany and all that. But she just sort of stopped …developing.She got set in her ways and didn’t take risks. Didn’t participate in life – just let herself get carried along by it’
‘So you’re saying that Bee was depressed for half of her life?’
‘’Fraid so.’
‘But that’s shocking. Just shocking. Don’t you think?’
Lol shrugged. ‘This is London,’ she said, ‘depression’s like the flu in a city like this. The norm. But actually, Bee did seem better for a while last year. Started talking about her career again, her future. And then she moved flat in January and seemed to go downhill again. Started obsessing about ageing, talking about plastic surgery. And she stopped going out. I used to try and get her to come out with me, but she said she was trying to save money. She’d invite me over there, but I … this’ll make me sound bad, but I justhatedthat flat. I really did.’
‘Why?’
Lol shrugged. ‘I dunno, really,’ she said, ‘it were just a vibe. Something about the atmosphere. It were …dead.’