Page 18 of Still Falling for You

I don’t spot Vicky immediately because she’s a chameleon, able to assimilate to all environments like the Royal Marines. I’ve always thought she’s wasted in hospitality. She was thesame at school. She went out with the right crowd and was always a bit too loud and self-assured, but being with Vicky felt empowering, especially for an introverted person like myself. It still feels good. In return, Vicky revels in the retellings of my misadventures. It’s a symbiosis of sorts; I’m the clownfish to her sea anemone.

Finally, I spot her sitting by the bar on one of the repurposed cracked-leather bar stools that I know will be painfully uncomfortable. She’s chatting up one of the strawberry blond specimens of the bar workforce, probably the bar manager himself. Enviously, I notice that her slinky black dress makes her into a sexy business associate. Like the fashionista she is, she’s paired it with funky red-and-blue Nike shoes. Her silver blonde hair is shaped in loose waves, and her flawless make-up looks so natural she appears she’s not wearing any. God, one has to love and hate Vicky in equal measure. Despite the conflicting emotions, a spike of excitement warms my insides at seeing her.

For the shortest of moments, I’m transported to sixth form, but I shake my head before any uncomfortable memories resurface and sour my mood. I force a pleasant expression onto my face, I’ve always been good at those. I try to push away the guilt that has budded in my stomach at feeling resentful when Vicky has been nothing but a good friend to me.

When she swivels on her stool towards me, her face splits into a wide grin, looking all dazzling like a falling star. I return a slightly damper smile, inconspicuously checking the high-waisted black skirt and white blouse with mother-of-pearl buttons I put on for the occasion. I realise too late that my outfit is screaminglibrarian. I almost touch the purple lipstick I dabbed onto my lips last minute before leaving to check it’s still there, but no matter what, I feel inadequate.

‘How is my favourite primary teacher?’ she starts, and all the bad thoughts evaporate. I almost simper despite beingtwenty-seven.

‘Not bad.’ I downplay it as always. I mumble a hello to the broad-shouldered barman who winks at me with his grey eyes framed by expressive coppery eyebrows and leaves us to our conversation. I try to ignore the fact that he’s totally my type. Then, I push the memory of another ginger man in my life deep into the recesses of my brain.

She immediately reads my expression. ‘You’re such a liar, Holly. But never mind, if you don’t want to share your drama, I’ll share mine. I’ve got tonnes to tell you because so much has happened since the last time I saw you.’

Before I even have a chance to order myself a drink, she launches into an elaborate retelling of the last three months of her life like it’s an episode ofDynasty. Her story is full of glamorous places and even more glamorous people. My life seems a little lacklustre next to hers. The truth is, I used to love my contained life because I was never one to enjoy being in the spotlight anyway. I always used to love listening to Vicky and her wild stories.

The hot bar manager, whose name is Dave, treats us to two cosmopolitans and occasionally joins us for a minute or two to chat while very conspicuously ogling my limited cleavage. I’m starting to think that I’m a magnet for idiots.

The stool’s back support digs into my lower back, but I don’t say anything because Vicky is in her element by the bar where she can freely flirt with whichever barman serves us the next drink. Their reactions are fairly predictable, flirting back, frequently ogling our way and some even offering us more free drinks which she doesn’t refuse. They’ll be disappointed to find out at the end of the evening that she has zero intention of furthering their acquaintance. It’s sort of fascinating to watch. Vicky’s world has always been a great window into the unimaginable. She talks about her job as a quality assurance manager for Mercury Hotels, and the places she’s been, buteventually our conversation comes to a natural pause.

She sips her fourth cosmopolitan while I’m on my second. The alcohol creeps into my head, opening doors that should stay closed. My belly is warm and tingly.

‘I’ve blathered on for ages. It’s your turn. What’s happening in the world of Holly?’ She’s clever because her stories and booze have softened me up.

‘I went to see Aaron.’ I’m very succinct with my recount compared to her flamboyant descriptions. Reluctantly, I tell her about his further treachery at which she swears like an old sailor and shows more anger than I have since I’ve learnt the truth. I find it somehow soothing.

I shrug when she calls hima spineless slug of the human varietyfor the third time. I don’t tell her that using the wordspinelessis a little obsolete as slugs are shell-less terrestrial gastropod molluscs and don’t have spines because she’s gotten right into it and there’s no slowing her down.

‘In a sense, he did me a favour.’ I force the words through my tight lips. Deep down, I know it’s true because it’s obvious from his actions he’s never really understood me or cared for me enough to have the decency to split up with me before he started sleeping with another woman.

‘How’s your mother taking it now her favourite golden boy turned into a nasty douchebag?’ I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. ‘You still haven’t told her, have you?’ Her voice drips with disbelief.

I shrug dismissively. ‘You know how she gets, Vick. She doesn’t know the meaning of the wordprivate. It would be passed on at her weekly book club meetings, pottery classes and no doubt Friday dinners at Bentley’s like it was some meaningless anecdote.’

Vicky’s mother, Jane, and mine are practically inseparable. When I don’t get updates on Vicky’s life from Vicky herself, I get them from my mother.

‘True. Sometimes, it’s better to avoid poking the bear,’ she agrees.

‘The only problem is she’s now reverted to the pre-Aaron matchmaking phase.’ I show her Nick’s number on my phone. I don’t know why I saved it. Instead of looking exasperated to match how I’m feeling, she cracks up.

‘She did not,’ she bursts out, gulping her cosmopolitan.

‘I guess next time she should check whether the person she’s setting me up with is interested in women and single.’ Vicky splutters her drink all over the bar. ‘I did, however, get an invitation to dinner with Nick and his boyfriend,’ I say as a punchline and can’t stop the cackle that comes out of my mouth. I’m reminded of the other set of news that I need to share, and my face pulls into a serious expression. I brace myself. There’s no time like now.

‘It gets worse,’ I say in between two sips.

She abandons her drink on the side when she senses the sudden change of atmosphere.

‘Guess who’s my mentor at the new school?’ Her eyes get that faraway look of somebody who’s thinking of the most unthinkable options, sifting through them and trying to decide which one is the most unlikely. With a nod, I silently encourage her to dig deeper, but she comes up blank and shakes her head in defeat.

‘Alex Bennet.’ My words are a rasp, and the sharp sting of pain in my chest that follows takes me by surprise. She necks the rest of her drink.

‘Fuck me. What’s he like?’

‘A total penis,’ I respond. I startle at how much I sound like Lydia at that moment.

‘That guy never deserved you.’ She echoes her words of years back. She was never keen on Alex when I was going out with him. My mind returns to a memory of ten years ago.

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