Page 60 of The Key to My Heart

‘God, this is mortifying,’ I mutter, sipping my tea. ‘Actually mortifying.’

‘Guess who,’ Tom continues.

‘Er – you?’ Jason says, and Tom bursts out laughing.

‘I mean, you’d think it’d come naturally to her, wouldn’t you,’ replies Tom, ‘but, alas, Jason, no. His name is Joe. Twenty-seven. Twenty-seven, I ask you,’he says, and this time, in a voice like his mother’s andI am now giggling so much, I feel like my head might explode.

‘Good for you, Nat,’ laughs Jason, and he goes back inside the café.

‘And this is why I’mscant on the ol’ detail, with you sometimes …’

‘That’s what yougetfor not telling me. So, when you finally do, I wanna call BBC News or, like, BuzzFeed or something.’ He sips at his coffee. ‘Is this why your word was hopeful, the other night?’

‘Maybe. And also, I’d got this amazing denim jacket in the sale at ASOS, so …’

‘Seriously though,’ says, Tom. ‘It’s cool, right? Meeting a guy and – fancying him a bit.’

‘Is it?’

‘Of course it is.’

‘Says you,’ I reply. ‘Using me as your stand-in becauseyoudon’t want to be fixed up on a date.’

‘I date,’ he says. ‘Sort of.’

‘Just date?’

Tom shrugs. ‘Anyway. I’m just glad you’ve got a crush. It’s what humans do, right? Fancy people. Imagine for a moment, what it might be like to – you know. Get to know them. Spend time with them. Getclose to them.’

‘I haven’t gone that far yet, thank you. But – I don’t know. We’re –vibing?’

‘Then, of course, there’s the bit after,’ Tom continues. ‘Where they look disappointed. Tell you that you remind them of their Uncle Nick a little, and he was always a bit weird at parties andah, shit, look at the time, gotta go—’

I laugh. ‘There is a touch of the weird Uncle Nicks about you, to be fair. Is that why you don’t do anything beyond Just Date?’

‘Bit personal for a Tuesday.’ Tom gives a slight smile. ‘And there’s a touch of the weird Uncle Nicks about us all, if you ask me.’

Tom drinks his coffee quickly, and before long, it’s an empty mug, nothing but a puff of foam at the bottom.

‘I better get going,’ he says. ‘I’m meeting someone over at the exhibition space.’

‘How’s it all going?’

‘It’s going well, thanks. Not till December, but you’ll have to come. Bring a plus-one.’

‘Course. Will you be bringing Miss Two A.M.?’

Tom pauses, looks at me and says, ‘Depends.’

‘On?’

‘I dunno.’ Tom shrugs. ‘Will you be bringing Little Surfer Dude?’ and before I can answer, he gives a smile, slings his bag over his shoulder and walks off into the station.

Chapter Nineteen

‘Did you see there were ribbons on this lot?Again?It’s like I’m … Pavlov’s dog or something. Saw them. Felt like dropping to my knees and screaming.’ Priya stands opposite me at the entrance of Tina, cradling a bundle of clothes in her arms – some just-in jumpers from the new autumn collection that Jodie is treating like one-of-a-kind preserved vintage gowns discovered in Pompei.

It’s been two weeks since the day of the humid, moody rain, but the weather has scooped us up and forced us along with its bad attitude – it’s like we’ve been fast-tracked into autumn, a month too early. I’ve even skipped visiting Russ over the last couple of weeks, not wanting to sit in the pouring rain and squelching mud. I used to hate skipping visits, like he would be up there somewhere, on a chaise-longue in the clouds with a clipboard, shaking his head, surrounded by angels, saying, ‘What a shame. She was such a lovely wife, guys. But now this – not visiting a tree because there’s a yellow weather warning. Shameful.’ But, lately, that’s shifted, a little. Russ would understand. He’d be the first one ushering me away, telling me to stay at home, fire up the heating.

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