Page 13 of Don't Fall in Love (and how to break the rules)

Chrissie set her face and broke it to Nisha as gently as she could. “He died, eight years ago.”

Nisha’s face fell. “Oh, Chris, I’m so sorry,” she said, wrapping her fingers around Chrissie’s wrist.

“It was a long time ago,” said Chrissie, ignoring the tears that welled up in her eyes. It seemed forever since she’d spoken to anyone who knew Don. There was something evocative and painful about it, but at the same time, something welcome. “He’d been ill for so long. I was with him.” She looked at Nisha, whose own eyes had started to fill.

“I’m so sorry. And I wasn’t here.” She squeezed Chrissie’s hand. “I’m sorry I disappeared on you. You deserved so much better than that.”

“Well, Nish,” said Chrissie, using the nickname she’d not spoken in two decades, “that was a very long time ago. We’ve both moved on since then.” But somewhere in her heart she felt something change. Nisha had never explained what had happened before, and much less said sorry. She’d spent years dreaming of Nisha coming back and saying sorry. And here she was.

But everything was different now.

Nisha’s face clouded. “You seem so put together, so sure of yourself. I’m glad you had such strength through all that.” Chrissie nodded, absentmindedly, trying to ignore the warmth that travelled up her arm from Nisha’s fingers now tangled with her own.

“I had help,” said Chrissie, before excusing herself to help with the clearing up.

Chapter Nine

Early morning yoga on a Monday was one of the rare occasions where Dan would join Chrissie and Rae. Seven am in the community centre with fellow early risers was the perfect way to start the week.

Rae was wearing their customary baggy shorts and fitted vest top, while Chrissie preferred her tie-die T-shirt and leggings. Dan, however, was wearing his school issue tracksuit as his class had PE on Mondays.

The class was coming to an end. Rae’s gentle voice slowly brought the group from their peaceful prone position in shavasana. “And gently bring your awareness to your fingertips, your toes, your head.”

Chrissie flicked her eyes open and began to make small movements. “That’s right,” said Rae, their voice still low. “Slowly bring yourself up into a sitting position.”

The class began to rouse from the pose that served as the reward at the end of a long and strenuous yoga class.

“Bring your hands together, thumbs to your forehead,” said Rae and the class did as they were told. “Namaste,” Rae added.

“Namaste,” said Chrissie softly. It was something she hadn’t been able to say when she’d first started. Not until she’d researched the origin of the word, which in this context was about bowing to oneself; thanking yourself for taking care of your body. In many ways, yoga was the only healthy vestige of Infinite Bliss. She was grateful to still have it as an outlet. It was a way of bringing her body and mind together and being at one with the world.

“I think it’s my turn to get the coffees,” said Dan, as they strolled along the high street towards school.

“Well, I won’t complain. Although obviously it’ll be a chai latte for me, please,” said Chrissie.

“Obviously,” replied Dan. The coffee shop at the top of the high street had only just opened, and they were served quickly. Chrissie had remembered to bring reusable takeaway cups. Dan always forgot, so she tended to bring one for him too.

“So, how’re things going with your old friend?” asked Dan, as they continued their journey to work. “She seems pretty sound.”

“Yes, she is. The kids love her.” Chrissie smiled.

“Did you know her well back in the day? I mean, I know you said you were friends and there was a bust-up,” asked Dan, clearly desperate to find out the back story, in spite of his earlier attempt not to pry. “Were you just friends?” he said, giving her a nudge. Chrissie took a sip of her too-hot drink to buy time to work out what to say. “I had a ‘best friend’ at high school too,” continued Dan, “and I can tell you, she and I wereveryfriendly,” he added, with a grin. They left the café and began to walk towards the school.

“Oh, it’s far too early to hear about your teenage shenanigans,” said Chrissie.

“Ah, it wasn’t like that,” Dan replied. “It was actually very sweet. She was my first love.”

“Bless you. That sounds lovely,” said Chrissie. She could imagine Dan would have been a very sweet first boyfriend for the right girl.

“We went to different unis, and the whole distance thing didn’t work out. But we stayed friends. She’s married to a stockbroker now, I think. Perhaps she’s traded up?” he said, blowing on his drink.

“From you, Mr Harvey, never,” Chrissie insisted.

“But don’t change the subject. What are we talking here with Nisha – best friends, experimentation, first love?” Dan’s red hair flopped over his brown eyes, which felt like they were piercing Chrissie’s soul. She didn’t know what to say. All of the above? None of the above?

Always questioning.

“Oh my,” said Dan, “you had a thing with her, didn’t you? I was only joking, but this really was a thing.” He rubbed his hands together in glee.

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