Eric picked up three more tiles. ‘“Extrapolate”. Oh good, an X and a double word score.’
How could anyone that laid-back relate to her turmoil? He contemplated the letter holder.
‘I imagine he’s feeling a number of things.’
‘I mean, would you see a load of warning signs around him? Should I run?’ she asked.
Eric smiled. ‘Warning signs for whom?’
Ouch, he had a point.
‘You mentioned that you were with a chap in London before you came back, and he had no children. How did that go?’
‘Well, that’s the thing, Gav should’ve had plenty of time but he always seemed to have something better to do than prioritise us or plan for the future – with me, anyway.’
He shrugged. ‘So, really it’s down to the person, not just the circumstances, isn’t it?’
He picked up the pencil he was using to record his scores and drew a sketch of a little boat surrounded by waves.
‘See, if the boat is empty, you would think it’d be safer, wouldn’t you? It’s not carrying any weight, after all. But paradoxically .?.?.’ (that was such an Eric word, thirteen letters including an X and a Y) ‘it’s the opposite. If you put some weight in it, it’ll sit lower and steadier in the waves. Responsibility, or baggage, whatever you want to call it, is like that – it makes a person’s life more stable, not less.’
This made a great deal of sense but suddenly Cassie felt judged. She had carefully avoided responsibility up to now, after all. And how had that gone?
‘I’m not running away from responsibility if that’s what you mean .?.?. I’m facing up to things. That’s why I’m back here in Ireland.’
Eric nodded but that moment her phone rang and she looked down to see the name Finn flashing on the screen. ‘I’d better go.’ She smiled ruefully but he waved good-naturedly as she rushed out of the room. She ran upstairs, shut the door behind her and threw herself on the bed.
‘Hey, how did your day go?’ he said.
She could hear the warmth in his voice.
‘Middling, mostly spent working through my hangover.’
‘Lucky you, I didn’t get a minute, Con had his MMA, but Cici actually managed a few strokes without holding onto her float.’
‘Aw, good for her.’
‘Yeah, she was ridiculously excited. We had to drop into McDonald’s on the way home to get a McFlurry.’
‘That’s sweet,’ she said, and a part of her meant it, truly; she was genuinely delighted that he was sharing with her the details of what was most important in his life. But the mean little voice inside her broke in: what about me? God, what am I like, her better self retorted. I am not allowing myself to get into competition with a five-year-old. Now was the moment to behave better than she felt.
‘I’m impressed, especially since you took a bit of a hammering last night.’
She heard him chuckle. There was a brief pause. ‘So, will I see you again?’ His voice was soft and persuasive.
She hesitated. Go on, say it, she urged herself, don’t chicken out. ‘Finn, there’s something I need to ask you. I didn’t like to bring it up last night but .?.?. three weeks is an incredibly short time. What am I supposed to think? This could be just a glitch for you. Like an experiment in living outside the family. It’s not like that for me. I’m on my own. If you decide to bugger off home—’
‘Cassie, stop. I’ve been on my own for a long time. I know it hasn’t looked like that but, believe me, it’s felt like it.’
She reminded herself of her New Year’s resolutions:
1.No attached men (Finn?)
2.No rebounders (Finn?)
3.No unstable narcissists (Gav)
It was a risk. She took a deep breath.
