LOOKING FOR ANDREW MCCARTHY - Softcover

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Jenny Colgan is Scottish born and bred, born in Ayrshire in 1972. After graduating from Edinburgh University, Jenny worked for six years in the health service whist moonlighting as a cartoonist and doing stand-up in the outer fringes of London’s comedy circuit.

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'I'm wearing a beautiful pink dress, and I'm in a big pink room with billowing curtains... and I'm dancing to Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark... and my handsome partner leans over and whispers...' Yes, 80s child Ellie really thought that life was going to be like Pretty in Pink, St Elmo's Fire and all those over Brat Pack movies - where everyone was astoundingly glamorous, popular, successful, had huge apartments and lived happily ever after. But now that she's thirty, she has to admit that things haven't quite turned out that way. When did horrible flats and difficult relationships and menaingless jobs take over? And, more importantly, what happened to the coolest, wisest, most inspirational Brat packer of them all? Where is Andrew McCarthy now? Did life fulfil its promise for him? Is he happy on Channel 5? Surely he, of all people, can tell Ellie what to do about her thirty-angst? Determined to get her idol to unravel some of life's great mysteries, Ellie set outs, unwillingly accompanied by her best friend Julia, on a quest from LA to New York, to find him. It's an unlikely epic, by turns hilarious, romantic and downright uncomfortable but, helped by a cast of thousands, of whom Frosty the Giant Pig is the least improbable, they do find some answers, althought not the ones they expected...

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Excerpted from Looking for Andrew McCarthy by Jenny Colgan. Copyright © 2001. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

HEY! HEY! HEY! HEY!

Simple Minds. Ellie nudged it up with her foot, still concentrating on whitening up an extremely old pair of stilettos, and joined in with gusto.

Wooohhwoooahh!

The phone rang and she turned the music down reluctantly.

Hedgehog!

Oh, hi dad.

Happy birthday to you happy birthday to you happy birthday dear hedgepig HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Yes, yes yes. Ellie tried to sound embarrassed, but was actually pleased.

Did you like your present then?

Dad, it s a beret.

It ll come in handy, though, won t it? For skating?

Ellie hadn t been skating with her father for sixteen years.

Uh, yeah.

So, are you all set for tonight then?

Ellie looked around the room. One of the problems of having an eighties party, she mused, was not quite having the resources to rip out your entire flat and redesign it to look like the set of Dynasty. So she d hung lots of old Brat Pack and Duran Duran posters on the wall, left lots of Jackie annuals lying about and bought a bunch of pink and black striped napkins. Later on, she was planning on spraying around some Anaïs Anaïs.

Hmm, pretty much, she said.

Is Julia coming?

Ellie raised her eyes to heaven. Dad, she s my best friend. Of course she s coming.

I bet she ll look nice.

Yes, well, I think it s enough every male my own age I ve ever known fancying Julia without you as well, okay?

She could hear her dad shrug over the phone.

She s very pretty.

Dad, you ve know her since she was five. That s practically sick.

Ellie stared in the mirror next to the phone and squinted at herself, trying to see if she could get her hair to lie down simply by leaving her hand on it for a long time. Ellie didn t quite fit into the very pretty category. She might make very perky on a good day, with her ridiculously curly hair, which went in every direction, snub nose, and generous sprinkling of freckles. At least her eyes were nearly black, usually with mischief.

Yes, well, he said, changing the subject. Thirty, eh, darling? Leaving your wild, carefree youth behind you.

Ellie contemplated a much-loved picture of Limahl and wondered if her youth had been quite wild and carefree enough.

Ehm something like that, she said, trying to manipulate sellotape, poster and phone at the same time. I stole a traffic cone once. Anyway. What did you do for your thirtieth birthday?

Don t you remember, Hedgehog? he said. You were the one who wouldn t stop biting the waitress.

I was there?

There? You were practically at school. Couldn t go back for another black forest gateau for years. Then we went to the garden centre in the afternoon and you weed behind the fountain.

That sounds terrible, said Ellie, glancing at the piles of old twelve inch Howard Jones singles she was planning to use as the major form of entertainment.

No, actually, it was lovely, her father said, nostalgically.

Ellie examined her face in the mirror again. It was a Nik Kershaw one she d found at a boot sale.

Wrinkles and freckles? That can t be right, surely, she thought to herself.

Huh? she said

Nothing. Just have a nice time.

I will. I m just going to pick Billy up from his rehearsal.

Oh, right. Her dad conveyed by those two simple words exactly what he thought of Billy, Ellie s latest paramour. Ellie thought it was because he played saxophone in a band. In fact, it was because her dad had been a policeman for thirty five years, and had a pretty good idea what a rogue looked like.

Okay. See you soon.

See you soon, darling. He paused. And have a happy birthday, sweetheart. You know? I just want you to be happy.

Now what the hell did he mean by that? thought Ellie to herself, instantly upset as soon as she put the phone down. She started unpacking the bags of Wham bars, Spangles and Space Dust and gazed at the dusty box of Bezique, she d extracted from a rather shocked looking off-licence assistant.

I m completely happy, she thought to herself. Particularly now she d bribed her evil landlord with several boxes of nasty cheap continental lager to get himself out the house. She hauled herself out into the chilly October air to head round the corner to Wandsworth Town Hall where Billy would be making a racket and pretending to be Steve Norman. She dug her hands deep into the pockets of her duffel coat.

I am happy, she thought. Well, apart from my job, which is shit. And the flat of course. Which is also shit.

She turned the corner. And I m having a party. And I have a cake in the shape of Dangermouse.

Bought by me for myself, she thought.

She marched up the steps of the town hall. There were no wailing noises, which was unusual, but she knew where the rehearsal rooms were.

And all my friends will be there.

She pushed open the door.

And I guess they ll buy me lots of knick-knacky things.

She entered the room fully.

Oh SHIT, she yelled, as Billy leapt up from the near-prone position where he d plainly been snogging the dumpy trombonist.

Fuck! I m MISERABLE!