‘About these dresses? Why? It’s not that complicated, is it?’ Her tone was abrupt.
Typical Maxine. Don’t let her get to you, she reminded herself.
‘OK,’ Cassie said, ‘the truth is I’m afraid you’ll choose mauve and I’ll look like I’m diseased or having a fucking heart attack, and you’ll look gorgeous because you’re dark-haired.’
There was a pause.
‘I’m not dark anymore, Cass. I’m grey.’
‘Really? I’m sorry, I didn’t know.’
‘Hey, it’s a few greys, not cancer.’ Maxine’s semi-Canadian accent was trying to sound brisk but just sounded so sad, such a pointless waste of precious time.
‘I didn’t mean it like that. Maxine, I don’t want this shit between us .?.?.’ A sob rose up from deep inside her. There was silence from the other end.
‘I don’t want it either.’
‘I’m sorry for what happened. I really am—’
‘Cass .?.?.’
‘Is she OK? Does she remember?’
‘Not at all. She’s perfect. She’s getting ready for prom. I think she’d really love to meet you.’
‘That’d be amazing. I’ve missed you,’ she blurted out.
The relief she felt was like dropping a heavy rucksack from her back.
‘Missed you too.’
There followed the fastest catch-up in history, as fifteen years of news criss-crossed the Atlantic in ten minutes. Finally, they drew breath.
‘So, what colour should we choose?’
‘White, of course, that’d really piss off Mam.’
They burst out laughing and in that moment the years melted away.
‘I’ll leave that to you, Maxie.’
‘OK, but I gotta say, I still look hot in mauve.’
Chapter 26
‘Babe, I need your help.’ Finn sounded stressed.
Cassie was sitting propped up on her bed on Sunday evening – not her favourite time of the week – preparing for next day’s classes and feeling a dread that had no particular centre.
‘Babe, guess what, I’m here doing your ex-wife’s work that she’s still getting paid for, despite not turning up half the time, so how’re you doing?’
There was a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the phone. She felt a pang of guilt.
‘Sorry, that was mean. Don’t mind me. I’m like a bitch, I’m pre-menstrual.’
‘I’m sorry, Cass, I really am. I’ve just got a request to cover nights next week and I’m stuck for Tuesday. I hate to ask you but .?.?.’
‘It’s fine, honestly, I’d really like to see them again. I sort of promised.’
