Page 30 of The One That I Want

‘Hi, honeys, I’m home!’ I call out. I dump my bag on the hallstand and step out of my heels. Even these, which are known for comfort, can be a bit much by the end of the day. I think I’ll switch back to ballet flats or sneakers for the rest of the week.

‘Tris?’

I know he’s home – his keys are in the catchall on the hallstand – but he doesn’t answer. He must be in the loo. We’re a closed-loo-door couple, something that’s supposed to keep the romance alive. Even if romance weren’t a factor, I’ve never understood those couples who do their business in front of each other. Um, hello,why? Even Saffron prefers privacy when she uses her litterbox.

I wander further into the flat and am about to flop onto the sofa when there’s a heavy knock at the front door. I rush over, only realising when I get there that this is a secure building. Who could thatbe? No one buzzed and no one was announced.

‘Um, yes?’ I say loudly to the solid door.

‘Darling, it’s me.’

I fling it open and there’s Tristan, holding a wide-eyed Saffron. ‘What the hell?’

He pushes past me, releasing her onto the lounge room rug, and I close the door.

‘She ran out of the flat right as I got home,’ he says breathlessly. ‘And, of course, like an idiot, I ran after her without thinking to grab my keys. Then she got into the lift and the doors closed before I could stop them.’

‘Oh my god, Saffron, you naughty girl!’

She ignores me, undaunted by my admonishment, and commences her ablutions in the middle of the floor, one leg raised and her little pink tongue dangerously close to her bum.

‘She is such a little minx.’ I turn back to Tristan, who’s leaning against the breakfast bar, pale and clammy. ‘Hey, she’s okay. She couldn’t have got far.’

‘She got off the lift on seven. And while I was madly trying to find her, along with the entire concierge team, Maisie Stimpson had dressed her in doll’s clothes and was about to have a tea party. ThankgodI found her and that you were home when I did.’

I don’t mention that the concierge team would have let him into the flat – they’ve done it for me when I’ve (stupidly) left without my keys.

Then my mind switches gears and the visual of Saffron wearing doll’s clothes is too much. Laughter erupts uncontrollably and Tristan and I lock eyes. He starts laughing too and soon we’re grasping onto each other, barely able to breathe.

When the laughter dwindles, I look across at Saffron. ‘Oi, Saffron Dean Fellows,’ I chide, using her full name. Her tiny tongue pauses mid-lick and she looks at me as if to say,‘What?’

‘I’ll tell you what, missy. You’re the most spoiled, most loved cat in the world. Don’t you ever scare your papa like that again or we willgiveyou to Maisie Stimpson and you will have to wear dolls’ clothes every day for the rest of your life. Do you understand?’

She pauses for a micro-second, then goes back to licking the fur around her bum.

‘Well, you told her,’ says Tristan, setting us off again. I wipe tears from under my eyes with my forefingers, and my phone rings.

‘No rest for the wicked,’ Tristan quips.

I retrieve my phone from my handbag and see that it’s Greta Davies. I mouth, ‘I need to take this,’ and Tristan mimes, ‘Want a drink?’ I nod and head over to the sofa where I make myself comfortable before answering.

‘Hello, Greta. What can I do for you?’

‘Poppy, I think we’ve made a terrible mistake.’

Greta

I’m so glad Poppy answered. I have no idea what I would have done if my call had gone to voicemail – probably left an incoherent message, babbling on about finding the love of my life in the midst of an important writing assignment and possibly losing my job.

All right, Imaybe catastrophising a little – it’s unlikely my job is on the line – but there’s certainly merit to my other concerns.

‘Are you okay?’ she asks. ‘You sound really upset.’

‘I’m not, no. I was out with my best friend tonight after work – Tiggy, she’s called – and she asked thisonequestion and now I can’t see how this can possibly work – the dating… the writing assignment.’

I hate that my voice sounds all pitchy but if I’m going to wail to anyone about this, Poppy’s the perfect person – she’s part of the reason I’m in this situationandshe’s a trained psychologist.

‘It must feel overwhelming.’

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