Page 143 of You Float My Boat

‘Yeah, yeah. I know. I know that if he doesn’t come back to me then he was never mine in the first place, blah blah blah,’ I wailed, ‘but I thought I might have at least had a text message, or something to say he missed me. He doesn’t even miss meeeee …’

I took another long hard sniff and a deep breath, before dissolving intoanotherround of tears. Buddy moved around and sat up.

‘Yes, I know I told him not to message, and I haven’t texted him either.’ This time the sleeve of my jumper was used to wipe my eyes. The tissue had turned to pulp. ‘But I’m starting to think it was a stupid thing to do. What if I’ve lost him?’

Buddy crawled into my lap and took one long lick of my face, mopping up the fresh tears which I’d failed to stop.

‘Thank you,’ I sobbed, wrapping my arms around his neck, and this time he settled down on my chest waiting for me to stroke his ears. ‘Thank you for being the best puppy, and listening to me all week. I love you.’

The steady rise and fall of his breathing, plus the occasional yelp as he began dreaming, was enough to calm me almost into my own sleep. Almost. If my brain wasn’t going around and around, I’d definitely be snoring away just like him.

Was it ridiculous I was lying on the sofa, my heavywinter duvet on top of me,The Holidaypaused on the TV, while a fire roared in the hearth?

Possibly.

Anyone passing by would assume I’d been stuck in a Christmas time warp. Though maybe if I wished hard enough, I’d be transported back to before December when I could ignore Charlie’s text messages the first time they came through.

He’d have to get someone else to help him deal with Evie.

It was lucky Buddy was pinning me down with his dead weight, because even the thought of Evie made me want to get up and smash something. Fortunately, my mum also decided to use the moment to come and find me, peering around the door to the snug with what could only be described as a look of abject horror as she took in the scene.

If I wasn’t still on the verge of tears, I’d have burst out laughing.

‘Um … why are you watching a Christmas film?’ she asked, her tone making it clear she was easing me in for what I knew was about to descend into interrogation territory. The arms crossed over her chest confirmed it.

Sadly for her, I wasn’t in the mood to talk.

‘I’m not. It’sThe Holiday.’

‘Do you really need the fire lit? The sun’s out.’

‘It’s nearly night-time.’

‘It’s four o’clock in the afternoon,’ she shot back, and the restraint finally snapped. ‘Honestly, Violet, I don’t know what’s been wrong with you the past few days. Have you got too much coursework? Is that it? You’vebeen in your bedroom most of the week, you’ve barely spoken, now you’re in here …’ she swept her arm around, before picking up the empty chocolate bowl, along with several screwed-up balls of foil wrappers, ‘where you’ve been watching Christmas films all day long. Yesterday I saw you eating Buddy’s Easter egg. That was dog chocolate, Violet.Dogchocolate. Not to mention you completely missed Easter lunch.’

Ah, yesterday was Sunday, that made today Monday. Misery calendar, consider yourself updated.

‘There’s nothing wrong.’

There was.

‘I’m fine.’

I wasn’t.

‘I didn’t eat Buddy’s Easter egg.’

I did.

She shook her head, marched across the snug, flung open the curtains and cracked the window wide. Jesus. My eyeballs were nearly singed from the brightness of the sun I wasn’t expecting. It was low enough on the horizon that it shot right through the gap in the trees, and hit the spot on the sofa where I was lying.

‘Okay, well, while you’re festering in here for god knows what reason you won’t tell me, can you at least let me know about this Saturday?’

Ugh, Saturday. I’d been trying very hard not to think about Saturday. Something made virtually impossible when my mum kept bringing it up every five minutes.

‘For the fortieth time, Mum, I don’t know if I’m going to go to the Boat Race. I haven’t decided. I don’t see why we all have to go together.’

‘Because it’s Hugo’s last race and we’re meeting the Mastersons and Oz’s mum for lunch first, and it would be good if you came too. Everyone’s going to be there.’

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