Page 81 of Hook, Line and Single

You have nothing to be sorry for.

The ticks go blue immediately and I can see he’s typing.

I overstepped the mark.

And I ran away! Not exactly adult behaviour. I’m sorry too.

I can see he’s read it, but there’s a delay before he types his response.

Can we be friends?

How to reply to that? I know that’s not what he wants, and after my conversation with Sam, I know it’s not what I want either. But this isn’t a conversation we can have via text. I need to explain why I acted the way I did. If he thinks I’m a basket case and runs a mile, then I’ll just have to deal with it, but we can’t go forward unless I’m completely honest with him. Eventually, I type:

When are you next in Margate?

Friday. I’m seeing a man about a 12 bore at 3.

Why don’t you drop by the shop afterwards? We could go for a drink.

OK. See you then.

I review the messages a few times before setting my phone back on the bedside table. I feel better now that I’m back in contact with Cameron and I know I’m going to have a chance to try to set things right. I think Sam will be pleased with me too.

* * *

I was right about Sam being pleased. Despite her continued assertions that I’d do well to book a therapist to work some stuff out, she’s been happy enough to role play various scenarios with me, and I’m starting to get some clarity about how I want to approach things when Cameron arrives later this afternoon. We’ve agreed what I will tell him about Olly, sticking to the bare bones and leaving out the whole breakdown bit. We’ve also tested various ways things might move forward, from him declaring his feelings again (and me being a little more encouraging), to me having to bring it up. What this time has shown, if it were in any doubt, is that I do feel more than friendship towards him, and the idea of not having him in my life is not one I really want to contemplate. I just have to find a way to let go of seven years of learned behaviour, allow myself to open up and trust him.

The downside of him visiting today is that I won’t have Sam on hand for a debrief later, as she’s hotfooting it straight from work to spend her first weekend with Robin. She’s tried to play down how excited she is out of sensitivity to me, but I can tell she’s positively fizzing. When we haven’t been working on my issues, we’ve been raiding her wardrobe to choose things for her to wear. The hardest one proved to be her Sunday outfit. I thought she looked smart in dark blue jeans with a jacket, but she fretted that jeans were too casual for church and Robin’s parishioners would look down on her. We both felt that a full-on dress was too formal so, after trying a few skirt and blouse combos, we settled on a pair of fitted chinos with a white shirt and a dark blue jacket. Sexy but elegant.

‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ Jono asks as I glance anxiously at the clock again. ‘I’ve never seen you with such a bad case of the fidgets. He’s just a man, we’re nothing special.’

I’ve told Jono about Cameron’s visit, but not given him any details. I’ve just told him that we had a spot of miscommunication and he was coming over to sort it out.

‘I’m fine, thank you, Jono,’ I reply, a little more tersely than I meant to, and I see a brief look of surprise cross his face.

‘If you say so. He’d better be worth it,’ he retorts before retreating back behind the coffee bar.

Is he worth it? In moments like this the doubts still creep in, but I hastily start repeating the mantra that Sam and I put together in my head.

He’s not Olly. He thinks the world of you. He’s a good man. Trust him.

It does succeed in soothing me, and I manage to focus on my work until the bell rings to announce that another customer has entered the shop. It’s only when Samson leaps down from his chair and swaggers over to greet the newcomer that I lift my eyes and see him.

Cameron is wearing a simple white shirt and blue jeans, with brown brogues underneath. His expression is uncertain, which makes him look curiously vulnerable. I’m aware of Jono sizing him up from the other side of the shop, but for once I’m not interested in what Jono thinks. My heart fills as I look at him and my final doubts vanish.

Yes, Olly did a phenomenal amount of damage and I have a list of trust issues as long as my arm because of it. But this isn’t Olly; it’s Cameron, the man who has had my back without fail since I met him. The man who caused frankly obscene reactions within me with a simple back massage. The man who remembered my favourite Disney song and had it ready to play when he picked me up. And, I’m reminded as Samson weaves affectionately round his ankles, the man my cat took an instant liking to.

As I step out from behind the counter to greet him, I can feel my face breaking into a smile. Being careful not to tread on a furiously purring Samson, I wrap my arms around him and pull him close.

‘It’s so good to see you,’ I tell him.

‘You too,’ he replies.

Sam’s right. Why should I let Olly set the narrative any more? I want this. I want Cameron. Time to step out from the shadows into the light and set myself free.

29

Something’s not right. I hope it’s just nerves, but there’s no sign of the easy conversation that Cameron and I are used to as we set off towards the pub. The further we go, the more I begin to convince myself that I’ve misread the situation and he no longer feels the same way about me. How can he, when he’s barely spoken a word to me since we left the shop? His expression is sombre as we make our way along the pavement.

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