Eleanor threw her friend a deadly look. ‘First of all, the woman assumes because I’m single at thirty-four that my diary is a blank bloody canvas.’
‘Which isn’t exactlyincorrect,’ Sal quipped smugly. ‘Whereas if you went on a date with Benny boy … I’m sure that diary could be filled up nice and quickly.’
‘You really are just as bad as her.’
‘Calm down, will you. I have an idea.’
‘Go on …’ Eleanor huffed.
‘I’m throwing a dinner party in a couple of weeks; you should invite Fin along.’
Eleanor’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why? The point is toavoidhanging out with him.’
‘Yes, but this way you get your mum off your back and you don’t actually have to spend any time with him. We can put him at the other end of the table. Voila … you’ve doneyour daughter duties and Fin can make some new friends to hang out with.’ Sal clapped her hands together. ‘I really am brilliant sometimes.’
Eleanor leant back in her chair. ‘I mean, it’s not the worst idea in the world.’
‘Exactly! And you never know … if he’s cute … maybe he could become more than my friend for a bit.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Sal, he’s here to say goodbye to his dying mum, not to have a holiday romance.’ Eleanor could feel her cheeks flushing red.
‘All the more reason for him to do something that doesn’t involve hospitals and death. Unless …’ Sal cocked her head to the side, a slow realization dawning on her face. ‘Did something happen between you two? Is that why this whole thing is so weird and awkward?’
Eleanor snorted. ‘No!’
‘Why are you literally turning the colour of Doreen’s bad hair dye then?’ Sal laughed, making Eleanor’s face turn an even deeper shade of red.
‘I’m not.’ She forced her voice to be calm and composed.
‘So, you’re telling me nothing ever happened with you and Fin? Not even one tiny little drunken kiss after the school disco?’
‘First of all, I don’t know how old you were when you started drinking, but the only things we had at our school disco were lemonade and Panda Pops. And secondly, Fin was like family. There has never been anything remotely romantic between us at all.’ She dropped her gaze briefly. ‘Trust me.’
‘OK, if you say so …’
‘I do say so.’ She forced her face into a willing smile. ‘Besides, I don’t think he’s your type.’
‘And that is for me to decide, isn’t it?’ Sal stood up and planted a kiss on Eleanor’s cheek. ‘I’ll send the details over later. Email Angela now and tell her to back off – you’ve got important creative management work to do!’ she said gleefully, striding away through the office.
‘Oh, don’t I just …’ Eleanor grumbled.
Then: Aged 11
Eleanor
‘Eleanor! Fin’s here,’ her mother shouted from downstairs.
‘OK. I’ll be down in a minute,’ she called back.
‘Eleanor. Did you hear me? Finley is here.’ Her mum’s voice boomed even louder.
Eleanor opened the bathroom door and stuck her head out. ‘I know. I said I’ll be down in a minute.’
‘All right, darling, there’s no need to scream like a banshee.’ Her mother was halfway up the stairs. ‘Well, don’t you look a pretty picture. Do my eyes deceive me or are you wearing make-up?’
‘No.’ Eleanor quickly tried to close the door.
‘I think you are.’ She waggled her finger. ‘Come on, let me have a look.’
