“But we got on—” began Audrey’s mum.
“—so well that you decided to have dinner together at a Thai restaurant in Paignton and it was like you’d known each other your whole lives,” Audrey finished for her. “I know the story. You’ve been telling the story for years. I just don’t think it’s particularly typical.”
“Lovely couple, though,” said Audrey’s dad. “And she wassofunny—what was that thing she said…about windscreen wipers? It’ll come back to me. Anyway, point is, it’s natural to feel strongly about people. It’s good. It shows you’re not a robot.”
For a moment Audrey let this faith in her not-a-robotness sit.
And while it was sitting, her mum said, “Is there a girl?”
In theory, Audrey felt, there had to be a window in which she would be able to answer “no” to that question without her mother interpreting either the hastiness or the hesitancy of her reply as confirmation. But she hadn’t managed to find it yet, so instead she said, “Maybe. Yes. Kind of.”
“It’s not…” Her father looked concerned. “It’s not the sixteen-year-old is it?”
That one, on the other hand, could be denied instantly without any problems. “No, definitely not. I’m not a vampire with self-esteem issues. It’s…she’s…Imayhave a thing for the showrunner.”
“And does she have a thing for you?” asked Audrey’s mum.
Audrey shrugged. “Hard to tell. I think she might? She keeps dropping hints that she thinks I’m hot, which is nice. But she tends to do it while swearing at me, which isn’t.”
“You know”—a thought had occurred to Audrey’s dad—“if her fancying you was part of why you got knocked out, you could sue her for…”
“For what?” asked Audrey, trying to sound genuinely curious even though her dad had this kind of half idea all the time.
“Well, for something,” he finished. “There’s bound to besomething. You can’t go around kicking people off TV shows because you fancy them.”
“Of course,” Audrey’s mum added, “you can’t keep them around because you fancy them either. That’s what people said about the tall ginger one last season—that he only stayed in so long because Marianne Wolvercote wanted to do him.”
“Well, they won’t say that about me, because I didn’t stay in long at all.” Audrey’s intent had genuinely been to reassure hermother that she’d be fine, but as an admission of failure it also made Audrey feel a little hollow. She really should have done better.
Audrey’s dad still seemed to be chasing his inner monologue. “Are you going to see her again?”
“Jennifer? Honestly, I don’t know. Probably not.”
“Do you want to?” asked Audrey’s mum.
“I think so?” Audrey admitted. “But it’s hard to tell because we spent most of our time arguing. And not like”—she waved a hand—“the way you and dad argue—”
“We do not,” put in her mum.
“We do, love,” replied her dad.
“Ooh, we never do.”
This gave every sign that it could go on a while. So Audrey—having learned from experience—kept on talking like it wasn’t happening. “It’s more me annoying her and her calling me a miserable interfering prosefucker or something.”
Her mum’s eyes widened. “A what, love?”
“I don’t know. The thing about Jennifer is that she’s extremely articulate within a very narrow set of parameters.”
“I don’t want to be funny”—Audrey’s mum was wearing an unmistakably parental expression—“but have you ever considered trying to get with a girl who isn’t completely horrible?”
Five-years-ago-Audrey burned to defend the woman she loved. Present-day-Audrey was all dying embers and falling ashes, but some long-ingrained habit made her say, “Natalie wasn’t completely horrible. She just—she was very driven.”
“She drove you all the way to London,” fauxgreed Audrey’s dad.
“And made you stop speaking to your family,” added Audrey’s mum.
“No she didn’t,” protested Audrey weakly. “She…we were very busy and she…”
