Page 1 of The Trouble With Love

Chapter One

The fridge had definitely exploded. The small squat box, now minus a corner, leaned slightly forward into a green patch of ooze, sides bulging and its front flapping from one impotent hinge. It looked like R2-D2 after a really hard night on the Crème de Menthe. I bent and tugged at the line of rubber door seal, which pinged sullenly back at me. ‘What the hell did you have in there, fusion fuel?’

Megan looked at her toes and mumbled something. Her black curls fell over her pretty-pug face but I could see she was blushing by the darkening shade of the mocha-coffee skin visible between her hair and the back of her neck.

‘And since when did you eat’ — I held up a dripping fast-food wrapper between finger and thumb — ‘this kind of stuff?’

Her mutters became more audible but more defensive. ‘It was the last meal Tom and I had before he . . .’

‘Stop trailing off when you talk about him as though he went off to a tragic hero’s death! He’s living in Wolverhampton, and he’d been two-timing you, and she’s a topless model.’ Only my best friend could keep the leftovers of the meal during which she split up with her boyfriend. Only she could keep them until they went critical, anyway. ‘Oh, Meg,’ I said helplessly. ‘If ever there was a man who’d had his chips, it was him.’ I picked up a newspaper from the recycling pile and began scraping unidentified runny stuff off the floor of Megan’s otherwise pristine kitchen.

‘I don’t know why I asked you over. I knew you wouldn’t understand, Holly. You are very unsympathetic. I think it’s because you don’t get attached to men like I do.’ She clasped her forehead dramatically. ‘You don’t know what it’s like to be in love.’

‘Because they’re all wankers. We’ve discussed this and you agreed. Wankers. Fat wankers, some of them.’

‘Only after Tom had left. And now I’m feeling like I’m ready for something new.’

‘Yep. That would be a fridge.’ I handed her the pendulous paper, replete with greasy puddles. ‘I’ve got my own house, a great job — why the hell would I want a man hanging around wanting meals and laundry and doing botched DIY?’

‘Because . . . oh, just because.’

‘Great argument there, very persuasive. Richard Dawkins would love a debate with you, you know that?’

But Megan didn’t reply. She was staring down at the sinus-clearing pool in the newspaper package. Her chunky-cut curls were, for once, completely still. ‘Oh Holly, look,’ she breathed.

‘Never seen evolution in action before?’ I poked the wobbly pile of fat. ‘Hang around long enough you’ll be able to tell it your views on love and the universe.’

‘No.’ She flexed the newsprint. ‘This advert. Here.’

I looked.

‘What would you wish for? Women interested in forming a group to practise a new branch of the magic arts, get in touch. No experience necessary, just a broad mind and the desire to make wishes come true.’

And then the name Vivienne, and a phone number.

‘Magic, Holl,’ Megan breathed. Her brown eyes had gone all shiny and big; she looked like a little girl on Christmas Eve. ‘She says we could do magic.’

‘Yeah, I see the mistake you’re making here.’ I took Megan’s shoulders and shook them gently. ‘Magic. Not real. Like, oh, I dunno, the Tooth Fairy, Doctor Who and impartiality. Pretend. Something you grow out of by the time you’re about’ — I looked into that rapt expression and my hands dropped — ‘twenty-nine. Or maybe, on current evidence, even later.’

‘Don’t be so . . . pragmatic, Holly! Wouldn’t you love to wish for something and be able to make it come true? What would you wish for?’ Her eyes were still unnaturally sparkly, and it made even my inner cynic go all rubbery round the edges. ‘After the way Tom treated me, I’d wish to be worshipped like a goddess.’

‘Wouldn’t you get a bit sick of all the sacrificial blood? And then, think of being on call all the time; it’d be worse than being a junior doctor. Or a dutiful sister, which is what I am, and I have an arrangement to meet my dear sibling in twenty minutes, so I’m going to leave you with your fantasies.’ I collected my jacket and bag, and went to the door. Megan was sitting on the floor clutching the newspaper bundle, which was now dipping alarmingly in the middle. Her face was all dreamy and there was a little smile I didn’t much like the look of tweaking at the corners of her mouth. ‘You heard me say “fantasies”, right?’

‘Bye, Holl.’

I shook my head as I left the flat. Megan was about as grounded as dandelion fluff on a good day. Today, with the winds of romantic disappointment whistling through her life, she’d probably left Planet Sensible for geostationary orbit.

Chapter Two

Nicholas was waiting for me in the already crowded pub. ‘Hey, Holl. I’ve got a round in, come sit down.’ He took my jacket and hung it over the back of a nearby chair, next to the bloke who was sitting there. I smiled in apology and went to remove it, but Nick stopped me. ‘This is our table. I asked Kye to save it for us.’

‘Kye?’

The man stood, and it was a movement which went on for some time. He was tall, ridiculously tall, and had the kind of shape that is usually described as ‘lithe’: slim but muscular enough to give him shoulders that filled his jacket in an interesting way. ‘That’s K-A-I. You must be Holly.’ Welsh accent. There were other things that I noticed about him too, like his hair, which was very dark and very long but drawn back to show off his cheekbones, and the single piercing in one ear which glinted whenever he moved his head. And his hooded black leather jacket, worn over a pale blue T-shirt cut low to reveal the dip at the base of his throat, the silver ring on his thumb, and those long legs wrapped in washed-out denim, so old it was nearly white. But my brain took all this in in a flash, like looking at a photograph, then ignored it. He was a bloke, that was all.

I looked quickly at Nick. He was bouncing around on the balls of his feet, rubbing his hands together. A good day, then. But Nick’s ‘good days’ had a way of bringing disaster to anyone who got involved, his un-aimed enthusiasm was a form of weaponry that warring nations could exploit. ‘Yes. Er, Kai. Thank you for holding the table for us. I’m sure you’d like to get off now. Back to . . .’ I stared around for inspiration.

‘No, no, Holl, Kai is with us. Well, with me, although not in the way that you are obviously thinking by the way you’re staring. Not a couple. No.’ Nick bounced a bit more, then sat down.

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