Page 28 of Tangled With the Wrong Guy
‘A colonel? That sounds quite terrifying.’
‘He is.’
Maybe Joel was getting the ‘do the right thing’ message from both sides? And a colonel-dad would be pretty intimidating.
‘Like Captain von Trapp?’
‘Far scarier. What’s your favourite book?’
‘Oh, right. Are we allowed a children’s book?’
‘Uh huh.’
‘That’s easy, then,’ she said. ‘The Secret Garden. I read it over and over, and I promised myself a secret garden one day. With high red brick walls and an ancient wooden door, and rambling roses and all of it.’ She sighed. ‘I think it’s why I love this place so much. It’s like a giant, walled, secret garden.’
‘But with corpses,’ he said. ‘I loved that book too. I think you must be my sister from another mother.’
Sister?
‘I didn’t read much, though, when I was a kid,’ he said. ‘My mum chose our books for us and I wasn’t really into the classics. She didn’t approve of Harry Potter or Roald Dahl. Thank god for the school library. At least I usually had something readable hidden in my bag.’
A strict upbringing with maybe cold, controlling (and teetotal) parents. Chloe would take a guess such parents wouldn’t be easy to come out to.
She added yet more layers to her Joel/Zara theory. Which was: Joel liked Zara; she was desperate not to be married off to some suitable boy; he needed a cover for his secret gay life. Andhe related to her situation because he was scared of his strict father, too. It was a neat solution – he and Zara could be like flatmates-with-benefits. And if at some point in the future one or the other wanted to move on, they could get an amicable divorce. The ‘complicated’ part, presumably, was the baby. Still a guess on Chloe’s part, but given the above, it made sense.
Just ask him!!
Not yet. Joel was slowly starting to talk, and she didn’t want to spook him.
‘Did you go to uni?’ she asked.
‘Yes, Bristol.’
‘What did you study?’
‘Business and finance. And yes, that too was as boring as it sounds.’
‘Why, Joel?’ She kept her eyes on the path ahead, hoping that would make it easier for him to share something more. ‘Why didn’t you do something you loved, that turned you on? And why did you then decide to … analyse data?’
He shrugged. ‘Conventional upbringing, I guess. Parental expectations. You do what’s necessary for a “good” profession, and the stuff you actually enjoy, like, say, acting–
Acting?
‘– is for your spare time. And if you’re like my dad, that should be fishing and golf.’
‘You don’t like fishing or golf?’
‘I’m twenty-eight.’
‘No wonder you ran away to Sheffield.’
‘Yep … well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.’
‘But not now?’
‘Chloe – just give the psychiatrist’s couch a rest, eh? Favourite food?’
OK, I’ll drop it. Softly, softly…
