Page 42 of Still Falling for You

*

The street is abandoned, and I check my phone to find that I’ve passed my curfew by twenty-two minutes. If my mother catches me, I’m dead, literally coffin material. Alex and I lost track of time. It’s been happening whenever we touch. It’s overwhelming and exhilarating. All I can think about is him and all the places he hasn’t touched me yet.

A flash of movement catches the corner of my eye. At the sight of the man, I still.My dad gets out of his car, and I wonder why he’s parked two streets from our house. I watch him walk to the opposite side of the car and open the door. He steps to the side and a familiar woman gets out, tugging at her fluffy pink coat to adjust the sleeves.

My eyes narrow as he leans towards her. Then my mouth shoots open. I watch as he kisses her on thelips, and after scanning the street, pulls her to him flush against his body.

When they separate, they both giggle like a pair of teenagers. Bile rises in my throat. I’m surprised that I don’t puke in the bushes. Somehow, I make it home and shut myself in my room. I don’t come out for two days, pretending I’ve got the flu.

*

‘I’m sorry that that’s what happened between you and Aaron, but I don’t appreciate your rudeness.’ His wrinkled forehead puckers. He pulls himself to his feet.

‘Stop pretending. I know,’ I shout at him, and it stops him in his tracks. His face crumples. ‘I know that you’re a cheating bastard. Just like Aaron. Just like every other man in my life. That day ten years ago when I caught you in that café, there were no consultations, were there?’ I wait for him to deny it, still carrying a minuscule spark of hope, but his shattered look is my answer. ‘How could you?’

‘Holly.’ He stretches his arm in an attempt to placate me, but I won’t be so easily silenced any more.

‘No. Don’t bother.’ I put my hands up. ‘I have nothing to say to you. I’ve kept the secret to myself for the last ten years, but I’m done carrying your burden. I’m done with your bad decisions impacting my life and my life choices.’ I realise that as soon as the words are out they are true. My relationships with Alex, and even Aaron, were affected by my dad’s treachery. ‘Why do you think I went to a university so far away from here? Or moved out at the age of eighteen? You’re not on my pedestal any more, Dad.’

I turn around about to storm out when a figure in the doorway halts my steps. My mother’s hand is planted firmly over her mouth. She’s deadly pale.

By the time I arrive at my flat, I have four missed calls from my mother and two from my dad, but I’m too terrified to answer. I can’t lie to my mother any more, so I stay silent.

I spend the rest of the day feeling like a geyser about to spout out boiling water. The next day, I join Catherine and Lydia for our monthly roast dinner that Richard cooks for us. If there were medals for number-one husbands, Richard would get one at least once a week.

His hulking figure is currently moving between various pots bubbling on the stove and chopping carrots on the breakfast bar while checking on the pork joint in the oven. His beard, which is usually his pride and joy, is sprinkled with gravy granules and what looks like a single frozen sweetcorn kernel.

Gabby is working on a Moana colouring sheet with felt tips scattered across the dining table and the floor. I love how self-sufficient she can be at times. She ignores all the outlines and chooses to colour Moana’s face green and her hair purple. The set-up in the kitchen gives Lydia, Catherine and me some needed alone time, and so we spend it in the lounge chatting.

We spread out on the large grey settee with a Long Island Iced Tea, non-alcoholic for me after Friday’s debacle, our Sunday roast tradition.

Catherine takes a gulp of her drink and hums in contentment. She’s wearing a purple Oodie adorned with avocadoes with cute winky eyes. It’s the most bizarre outfit I’ve seen on her so far, but the rules of Sunday roast gatherings are strict. No denim, no zips, no buttons and no regrets. I’m wearing Christmas leggings, stripy leg warmers and an oversized hoodie, whereas Lydia is sporting a feline onesie.

‘When are you going to tell us about Ted?’ Catherine peeks from under her overlarge hood at Lydia with interest.

Lydia waves her hand in dismissal. ‘Nothing to tell. Let’s say Ted and I aren’t compatible. By that, I mean he talks too much, and what he has to say is boring as hell. But most importantly, he’s an awful kisser. At first, I thought he had the geek thing going for him and that he might be dirty in bed, but it turned out Ted is boring regardless of the place.’ Poor Ted is decimated by Lydia. ‘Now, your turn.’ Lydia turns to me like this is circle time at an AA meeting.

I close my eyes for a moment to brace myself. When I’m ready, I retell Friday’s events, finishing with my mother calling. I’m saving the retelling of Saturday for dessert.

Throughout the story, Lydia shouts, ‘Shut up,’ a few times while Catherine gawks at me like I’ve just said that dinosaurs were a social construct.

Catherine shoots Lydia a look at her swearing, her dark eyes locking for a moment on little Gabby who’s totally oblivious to our conversation. Lydia clamps her mouth with her well-manicured hand and then mouths sorry. I study my chipped nails and feel disgusted with myself. I always hoped that by the age of twenty-seven, I’d have my shit together, but I’ve never been further from that than at this very moment.

When I get to the part where Alex told me he just wanted to get me out of his system, a lump the size of a golf ball lodges in my throat, and I pause.

‘That guy is full of crap, Hols.’ Lydia adjusts her cat tail over her knee.

‘You don’t even know him,’ I protest.

‘On this one, I agree with Lydia,’ Catherine chimes. I notice her glass is empty, and I have no idea when she had the time to finish it. I suspect it’s got nothing to do with my story but everything to do with the fact that having a child, one needs to do everything double speed.

‘Yes, he’s behaved like a dick to you since September, but all he’s really done is stop everyone gossiping about you, bought you lunch and apologised when he was awful to you. He also saved you from sleazy-easy John by the sounds of it. Not to forget he’s given you the best orgasm of your life,’ Lydia explains like this is plain old logic to everyone.

‘His actions speak louder than his words.’ Catherine is full of wisdom. ‘On the other hand, it doesn’t justify him being so hostile to you.’

‘I agree with Cat, but having a little romp wouldn’t hurt either of you, would it? It’s not like feelings are involved anyway, are there?’ Lydia’s sole attention narrows on me.

‘No.’ I sound almost convincing to my ears. The truth is,I’m not so sure any more. ‘Don’t you think I’m pathetic? It’s like I didn’t learn my lesson ten years ago. But equally, it was the hottest experience of my life. There was a mirror and a heavy curtain.’ I break off at the size of Lydia’s eyes. She’s itching to ask, but Catherine jumps in first.

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