Page 51 of Starting Over in Starshine Cove
It’s just after eight in the evening, which is a little late for house callers in Starshine Cove, but I assume it’s someone I know and not an axe murderer. They only hang out on dating apps after all.
The door opens, and Ella makes her way through the hall and towards me. She’s carrying a bottle of wine, and stops dead in her tracks when she sees me. Her little dog Larry trails behind her, and jumps over a forlorn toastie maker to come and lick my face.
“Oh,” she says, stepping carefully over a teetering pile of tea towels. “What happened? Was there an explosion?”
“No. My kitchen is trying to eat me. It started as a spring clean but it’s all taken a very dark turn. I see you come bearing gifts.”
“I do indeed. I realised I haven’t seen you on your own for ages. Plus Kitty is teething and I really wanted to get out for an hour.”
I push some of the pans away, and she holds out her hands to help me up. I pick a careful path through the detritus, knowing that I need to sort it all out at some point but also knowing that I won’t be doing it tonight.
Instead, I grab two glasses, and Ella and I decamp to the living room, where she pours us both a generous glug of something red and fruity that most definitely isn’t Ribena. Ibring a tin of home-made macadamia nut and white chocolate cookies with me, just in case either of us is at risk of starvation.
“So,” she says, kicking off her trainers and curling her legs up beneath her on the sofa, “how are you?”
“I’m great. Apart from the messy kitchen.”
“You’re lying.”
“No I’m not. The kitchen really is messy.”
She sighs, and shakes her head. I suspect she is a little bit exasperated with me.
“Connie, you know how when I first arrived here, you grilled me at every possible opportunity? And eventually you broke me down and turned me into a blubbering wreck who discusses herfeelingsall the time?”
“You’re welcome,” I say, raising my glass.
“Well, how come you expect everyone else to do that, but you won’t talk about your own feelings at all?”
I take my time swallowing the wine, and try to come up with an acceptable answer. I completely fail, and end up just shrugging. “Not sure. Maybe I’ve just got huge double standards? Or maybe I don’t have any feelings worth discussing at the moment?”
“That’s not true. I know you’re unhappy. And I know you’ve been like that since Zack left. Why won’t you admit it?”
“Because, my darling friend, I don’t want to. If I admit it, I make it real. Whereas if I ignore it all for long enough, I’m pretty sure it’ll go away.”
She picks a cookie up out of the tin, and throws it at me. It bounces off my head and lands in a crumby mass on the sofa cushions.
“That’s not healthy, Connie – and I’m a doctor. I know about these things.”
“Right. So what do you prescribe then, Dr Farrell?”
“Drinking this wine, and telling me what’s going on. You’ve been working all hours, running yourself ragged, and I’ve never seen you so down.”
“Oh. That’s disappointing. I thought I’d fooled everyone.”
“You might have fooled people who don’t know you that well, but not me. Or Archie, or George – we’re all a bit worried.”
I hate the idea that the people closest to me – the people I love – are fretting about my emotional state. I hate being a worry to anyone, or imagining that I’m upsetting them.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, for once all out of jokey comments.
“Don’t be sorry, Connie – just be honest. Talk to me.”
I pause for a few moments, pretending to be chewing a cookie. No, actually, I am chewing a cookie – but I don’t even taste it. It’s just a way to stall for time. I am scared of opening up to Ella. I am scared of being honest with her, and honest with myself. I am scared that if I open those floodgates, I will be washed away in a river of tears. Larry jumps up onto my lap and curls up in a ball, which definitely helps.
“I miss him,” I say simply. Best to start with the easy stuff I suppose.
“I can imagine. You spent a lot of time together. You were friends.”
