‘Your cousin the butcher?’
‘Yes.’
‘But he hates you.’
‘No, I hatehim. It’ll be fine. I’ll figure something out. You know me. Don’t stress,’ I said.
She frowned.
‘Heather, relax. As soon as you go, I’ll apply for a bunch of jobs and find something different that isn’t in front of a computer. Somethingmore practical. Something with my hands perhaps,’ I said, injecting as much positivity as possible into my voice. ‘I wish I had a passion like you.’
‘You’ll meet someone, Birdy.’
‘I don’t mean passion for adude– I mean for a career. The wine thing, like you have. Anyway, in case you forgot, I’ve been kind of seeing Tim again.’
‘Birdy,’ she said, furrowing her brow. ‘You can’t get serious about someone you met on the night bus.’
I stiffened a little. I knew what Tim was, and chose to hang out with him anyway. Heather just didn’t see Cristian for what he was, that was the difference.
‘I’m doing Tim with my eyes wide open,’ I said sharply. ‘Well, notliterally. If I did him with my eyes open, I wouldn’t be able to think about Jason Momoa.’
‘I just want you to be happy. He wouldn’t even let you stay with him until you found a new place. And he’s an insurance salesman, for goodness’ sake!’
‘Insurance Investigator,’ I corrected. ‘Not everyone wants the big Italian love story, Heather. You forget: I was once turned down by a guy who worked as a shopping-mall Santa. I don’t have a lot of options,’ I joked, wanting to spin the conversation quickly back to her and away from my catalogue of inadequacies.
‘Love,’ she began, and I knew I was going to get the lecture about how wonderful I am, if only I could see it. But then she sighed, and I felt even worse.
I put the hairbrush down to rest beside me, suddenly reluctant to do a long drawn-out goodbye. ‘Hey, listen, Heather, you have to get a wriggle on.’
‘Oh, you’re right. Well, this is goodbye then,’ she said, standing up and giving me a hug. ‘But, Birdy, I won’t enjoy myself if I know you’re unhappy.’
‘I’m happy. Really, this gives me a chance to sit back and write that book,How to Avoid Responsibility for Almost Everything, that I’ve been banging on about.’
‘Only you could pen a self-help novel that devoid of action,’ she said proudly. I tried to ignore the small twinge that her joke caused in my chest.
‘Right?’
As our smiles gave way to the sadness of saying goodbye, Heather hugged me hard.
‘Will you let me know when you’ve made the call? Could you do it today?’
‘Will do.’
‘Thank you. And let me know where you end up staying? I won’t sleep if I know you’ve had to go back to that bloody house. I mean it, Birdy, your parents—’
‘Yes, I will, I will,’ I interrupted quickly. I didn’t want to get into a conversation about my parents. We’d been there a million times, and talking about it didn’t change the fact that they were, and always had been, completely shit.
‘Oh, good,’ she said, throwing herself back on her bed, breathing out with relief. I felt a stab in my heart again. I knew a part of me didn’t want anything to work out for her with any man ever, if it meant losing her even a little bit. Heather and I may have been each other’s family, but with every year that passed, I felt her cultivating a new life that was her very own, while I still flapped about, hoping that the answer to living and loving would somehow arrive on my lap.
I pushed away the tears that were beginning to form.
She suddenly sat up.
‘I forgot to tell you. There’s this black-tie thingy at the Ritz that I was supposed to go to tonight. My name is at the door – just do the usual and say you’re me. No one will ask any questions. And it’s free wine. Lots of handsome hospitality-types.’
‘What’s the event?’
‘It’s the British Wine Awards. Honestly, all you have to do is get in the door. There’s no formal dinner or anything. Go! I’ll leave the trapeze dress and the T-bar heels, okay? Oh, don’t think I didn’t see you eyeing them up!’
