Page 72 of The Do-Over

‘You were vulnerable.’

‘For fuck’s sake, George. I was upset, yes, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t know what I was doing. Give me some bloody credit, will you?’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Mm. Anyway, so, rather than staying and talking it out, like an adult should do, you chose to run away. Not very mature, is it?’

‘I was confused and ashamed.’

‘Again, I’m not hearing me in this. How do you think I felt when you just upped and left like that?’

My voice is calm, but my mind is now working at a thousand miles an hour and a lot of things I never saw before are beginning to slot into place, not least Saffy and Rebecca’s assertions that George would never be enough for me. Compared to, for example, Alasdair, George is worryingly two-dimensional and spineless. Yes, he’s beautiful, but it seems his beauty is only skin deep. I’m reminded a little of those jigsaws that were all the rage a few years ago, where the image on the box was only a clue to the actual picture. The pieces are fitting together in my head, but the image they’re starting to reveal is totally different to the one I expected. I’m starting to realise that I may have got this completely the wrong way around.

‘I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking rationally, I guess,’ he says feebly. I’m rapidly losing interest in this conversation, but I’maware that it was me that dragged him in here; the least I can do is let him say his piece.

‘So it would seem,’ I say, trying not so sound as withering as I feel. ‘However, you must have regained enough self-awareness by yesterday to figure out that this was the only place I’d know where to find you. Opportunity number two for you to behave like an adult, but instead you hid behind a letter.’

‘I’m not very good at confrontation.’

‘Who’s to say it needed to be confrontational?’

‘It feels pretty confrontational.’

‘That’s because I’m annoyed, George. Yet again, you denied me my say. How do you think it felt for me, having agonised over what you might have been feeling and what was going through your head, to hear you laughing and joking with your mates just now as if you didn’t have a care in the world?’

‘I’m sorry. I do care about you. I’ve made a mess of this, I can see.’

I sigh. ‘You have,’ I tell him. ‘But maybe it’s for the best. Look, I don’t want to fight with you. You’ve made your position clear and I’m fine with that.’

‘I know I’ve made a hash of things, Thea,’ he says, suddenly earnest. ‘But I do like you. I was into it when we kissed. I am attracted to you.’

‘Sorry,’ I tell him kindly but firmly. ‘Nice try, but that ship has sailed.’

‘Can we be friends, at least?’

‘I don’t know. I need time to think about that. Shall we rejoin your mates? Regardless of the situation between you and me, Rebecca and I have come up with a business proposition for you all.’

I’m relieved, but not completely surprised, to find that Alasdair is still waiting when I walk out of the building, nearly an hour later.

‘I thought you said thirty minutes and you were going to be out of here,’ I remark as I slide into the passenger seat of his car. There are a lot of things I need to ask him, but I’m suddenly unsure how to start the conversation.

‘There was a fascinating debate on the radio. I lost track of time.’

‘Was there?’ I ask sceptically. ‘What was it about?’

‘Oh, you know. The usual.’

‘You would have waited all day, wouldn’t you?’

He sighs. ‘Probably. I just wanted to make sure you were OK.’

‘Mmm-hmm. Shall we get out of here then?’

‘Yes, boss. Where are we going?’

‘Back to the mill, I think. My car is there, for one thing.’

‘OK.’ He calls up the postcode on the satnav and eases out onto the road.

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