Page 17 of Still Falling for You

The clinking of mugs and plates being loaded interspersed by the clock ticking loudly in the lounge as the conversation stalls are the only sounds between us.

Silently, I pass my mother a prewashed plate because, of course, she prewashes all the crockery.

‘Nickolas seems nice, doesn’t he?’ Her look is positively dreamy. ‘A vet. A steady profession. Despite your ogre ways back there, I can tell he likes you.’ She puts a tablet in the dishwasher and closes it with a firm click. ‘I could ask for his number if you wanted.’

The now-familiar annoyance burns down my throat like I’ve swallowed a whole tub of Toxic Waste sweets withoutchewing. ‘He was feeling sorry for me.’ He’s probably thinking I’m a desperate woman who needs her mother to set her up like cattle at an auction. ‘If you invite another man to Sunday lunch, I’ll stop coming,’ I threaten. Because my tone is as mild as the curry in Wetherspoons, she confuses it for disinterest.

‘Don’t be silly. I didn’t invite him for you. Penny just happened to have a son who was visiting today.’

When I speak next, my voice comes out more of a hiss. ‘You can’t have it both ways. Either you’re still upset over Aaron, or you want me to meet another man.’ She pales, unused to this assertive version of me. That makes two of us. I inhale before she has a chance to say another word. ‘I’m more than capable of finding a man myself.’ She’s about to dispute that. ‘And I’m not looking right now.’

‘It wouldn’t harm you to keep your options open.’ She concedes her intentions, undeterred by my flinty stare.

My dad marches stiffly into the room with a pile of dessert plates decorated with crumbs and whispers in annoyance, ‘Can either of you please return to your guests? I didn’t ask for this nonsense and I’m the one stuck with them in the lounge talking about cricket finals. I have no blimming clue about cricket.’ His words vex me because he makes it sound like inviting all the available bachelors of Mountbatten Road was my idea and Mother only helped to orchestrate it.

I take a deep breath, about to argue, but the air whooshes out of me together with my confidence. I’m saved by my phone buzzing. When I see the number on it, my stomach clenches.

‘I need to take this.’ I head to the garden, grateful for the distraction.

I force a smile into my voice. ‘Hey, Vick. How are you?’ I’m not fooling anyone with my overdone cheer.

‘Hey back at you. I’m in town for a while. I wanted to get in touch so we could catch up on all the exciting things happening in your life.’ She sounds high-pitched and manicured like herpersona, but I’ve always admired that quality about her. We’ve known each other since kindergarten. We grew up on the same street and were shaped by the same high-maintenance-mother upbringing. For some time during sixth form, we were joined at the hip until we were seventeen and drifted apart. We’ve still kept in touch, but because she travels for work a lot, we only see each other sporadically. Nevertheless, it always makes me feel like I’m seventeen again, playing at being an adult all these years.

‘Not much,’ I mutter reluctantly.

‘How’s the loser?’

‘Everything is alright.’ I sigh because I have yet to update her on the latest happenings with Aaron. Sheoh-ohs. My mind drifts to Alex, and I know I have to tell her about him as well. I’m reluctant because Alex has been a taboo between us for the last ten years.

‘That’s what you always say and then Armageddon is unleashed. Your life is a series of unfortunate events sometimes.’ Despite any spite on her side, her words spear me in the chest, nevertheless. She’s never minced her words and maybe that’s what I’ve always liked about her. ‘Put me on your calendar next Friday. We’re going out.’

The cheek of Vicky to always expect people to drop everything and do whatever she wants. But I can’t resist being pulled by the charm of her personality because, where Vicky is concerned, I’m a shrimp lured by the anglerfish’s luminescent fin ray before being eaten. I can hear Catherine’s disapproving tone in my head, but I shove it in a mental cupboard, lock it and throw away the key.

An unwelcome thought stops me in my tracks. ‘Vick, I’ve had a few additional expenses this month with moving and starting a new job. Should we meet after the next payday?’ I don’t really want to divulge this, but I’m totally skint.

‘Don’t worry about that. There’s a new cool bar onChristchurch Road called Loungers. I know the manager, so drinks are on me. Or rather on him,’ she adds coquettishly. We make plans, chat for ten more minutes, and when I hang up, I feel better until I turn around and almost bump into Nick.

‘Hey.’ He thrusts his hands deep into the pockets of his dark jeans, eyes riveted to the bag resting in the crook of my arm. A bag that I retreated on my way to the garden in the hope that I’d be able to escape straight after the call. ‘Ready to run?’

‘A bit of an emergency,’ I lie unconvincingly.

He sweeps his head in the direction of the lounge where our mothers are chatting away.

‘No hard feelings. I can see what our mothers did there. She started doing it when I turned twenty-seven.’ He continues. ‘I have really enjoyed myself.’ I give him a withering look and he laughs. ‘Even you must admit that your mother and my mother’s double act has been quite something.’

‘I bet your favourite part was straight after the dessert. I have to admit my mother’s rendition of me breaking up with my ex-boyfriendat the ripe age of twenty-sevenwas the best.’ I repeat her words with a haunting quality that makes his eyes crinkle at the edges.

‘Your mother has got a bit of a dramatic streak. Has she ever tried am-dram?’ he jokes, but when he sees my deadpan expression, he howls with laughter.

He passes me a napkin with his number. ‘If you ever fancy going out with me and my boyfriend, give me a shout.’ He winks at the wordboyfriend, making me cough. Then he shrugs and leaves me to my musings.

8

The following week, I attempt to avoid Alex like the plague, but the universe thinks otherwise. I see Alex everywhere I turn; it’s relentless. I see him rounding the bend when I’m leaving my classroom. I back into the learning mentor office before he spots me only to find out that he was heading to that exact office. I bump into him in the staffroom reheating soup. We exchange a few painfully awkward words before I make a hasty retreat. By Thursday, my nerves are so frayed I decide to hole up in my classroom during lunches because there’s no respite from Alex. It seems like cosmic coincidence is trying to catch up on all those years of long time no see.

It doesn’t help that Alex is a Duracell Bunny with endless reserves of energy and rarely takes a break. He’s monitoring the corridors, covering break duties and supervising the lunch hall. By Friday, I’m jumping out of my skin at the mere sight of a grey suit. There’s no surprise that when the first week is over, I’m ready to meet Vicky, get a few cocktails in me and unburden myself.

When I arrive at the agreed bar, Loungers has Vicky written all over. It’s not exactly disappointing but very par for the course. The walls are lined with exposed copper piping that gives the spacious place a deep bronze hue, and the air smells of craft beer and perfume. The barmen’s lips are adorned with a range of flashy moustaches and impressive beards, and they’re all clad in variations of lumberjack shirts, leather belts and boots that are probably vegan. The clientele is somewhere between twenty-five and thirty with a mixture of trendy trainers, silk dresses and tucked-in shirts. All of the above makes me feel totally out of place. I’ve always been more of a vintage tearoom, country pub or nostalgia bar kind of person. Small places with old, quirky details.

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