Page 46 of The Fall-Out

No worries

My mum’s got red hair too so I get it. Although Dad always tells her a woman without freckles is like a night without stars.

And he added a semicolon and a closed bracket – a wink.

Shit. But it meant nothing, I told myself. It was just a sweet remark about his parents – the kind of thing a friend would say. So I responded with a ‘lol’ and I swiftly arranged to meet him in town to see The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, even though I had no interest in it at all.

In the event, though, I found myself transfixed by the film. From the opening credits, I almost forgot that Patch was there next to me, until my shoulder accidentally brushed his arm or our hands met when we reached for popcorn.

Afterwards, we walked out into the bright afternoon and stood blinking in the sunlight like people who’d just arrived from another planet.

‘Wow,’ Patch said. ‘I could use a drink after that. How about you?’

‘For sure. And some food – I hardly got a look-in on that popcorn.’

‘Really?’ His face fell. ‘Sorry about that.’

‘Just kidding. I had loads. Still hungry though.’

‘Me too – even though I scoffed all the popcorn. Where shall we go?’

‘There’s a place – someone at work was talking about it. Like a diner, that does burgers and cocktails and stuff. All very trashy. I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.’

‘Sounds great.’

Vaguely, I started walking, and Patch fell into step next to me.

‘Nome?’ he asked after a few seconds, and I felt a little glow of pleasure at him using the same pet name my closest friends used for me. ‘Have you spoken to Zara recently?’

Oh no. I felt suddenly aware of those texts on my phone, right there like an unexploded bomb. If I got run over by a bus right now, I thought absurdly, and the emergency services had to look for a contact number for my next of kin and Patch was there, he might see them.

That was ridiculous – it wouldn’t happen. But what was going to happen was I was going to have to lie to him: do the thing I’d promised Zara I would do, fulfil my side of the bargain that meant I got to see him.

‘Not spoken. She texted me a few days ago – she’s somewhere with work, I can’t remember where exactly.’

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I was just wondering whether she was okay. Last time we spoke she seemed a bit… I don’t know.’

‘I’m sure she’s just distracted with work,’ I answered, hating myself and praying he wouldn’t ask anything more, force me to elaborate on what I was pretending to know.

To my relief, it turned out my memory of my conversation with my colleague was clearer than I’d thought. Patty Palace was just round the corner from the cinema – a noisy, warehouse-style place with paper tablecloths and chefs with bandanas round their heads sweating over a sizzling grill.

‘Does this look okay?’ I asked.

‘Brilliant. I feel like I just spotted a mirage in the desert.’

‘I think you mean an oasis. They’re the things with water and date palms and shit. Mirages are?—’

‘The things that aren’t real?’

‘Correct.’

Laughing, we pushed open the heavy glass door and found a table in a corner, surrounded by pop-art posters and noisy groups talking and laughing over their meals. I was reassured – this was as far from a romantic destination as it was possible to get. I could tell Zara about it in detail and she wouldn’t need to worry. I just needed to distract him from asking me any more about her.

We sat down and studied the menus, which didn’t take long, because they consisted of just a few items printed on yellow A4 paper.

‘Negroni?’ I suggested.

‘For sure. And a beer, so we stay hydrated.’

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