‘I’m not trying to lure him. I just think we got off on the wrong foot... a number of times. I want to show him that I’m capable.’
‘How’s that going?’ asked Ros with a hint of a smile.
‘Don’t you start. I’ve borrowed a few more books from the library on rearing livestock and keeping chickens. But oh my days they are the dullest books ever written.’ Darla flopped her head back on the sofa for emphasis. ‘I actually fell asleep reading one of them. I thought it would be helpful on two fronts. One, it would increase my knowledge so I’d look less of an amateur in front of Elliott, and two, it would stop me missing a television.’
‘Did it work?’
‘No! I need a television. I really do. I’ve spoken to every charity shop in the city and none of them take in electrical items. I think I might have to buy one.’
‘Don’t do that. You can take the one out of my spare bedroom.’
‘I couldn’t. Could I?’
‘My ex put it in there for reasons unknown but it never gets used. Apart from when you stay.’
‘You are a lifesaver. I cannot tell you how much I have missed it. At least now I know I could never be onLove Island. And before you say anything, yes, that would be the only thing stopping me from getting on that show.’
‘I’ll take it off the wall at some point and you can have it.’
‘Could we do that now? I know that sounds desperate but I am.’
Ros good-naturedly found a screwdriver and they headed to the bedroom. It was easy to get it off the wall but Ros couldn’t find the stand it would have come with, although Darla didn’t care. ‘I’ll find some way to prop it up,’ she said, placing it reverently by the door so she didn’t go without it.’
‘You’ll need to get a television licence,’ said Ros.
‘I’ll sort it out first thing tomorrow. I promise. It’ll be worth every penny. Thanks again. I really appreciate it.’
‘You’re welcome. Those holes in the walls will give me an incentive to get it redecorated,’ said Ros.
They topped up their drinks. ‘I didn’t see much of Elliott from the other side of that giant sofa last week, but I did see how you interacted with him. Are you moving on from The Wanker?’
‘I’m not after Elliott if that’s what you mean. He thinks I’m incompetent for a start. But I do think I’ve moved on from The Wanker in that I feel I could date someone if I wanted to. I probably won’t ever trust anyone enough to be in a relationship with them but that’s a different issue. I get men flirting with me in the bar all the time so I have the opportunity, but... I don’t know.’
‘Too much effort?’ asked Ros.
‘It’s more that I don’t want to take the risk.’
‘I can relate to that,’ said Ros.
‘Not in a risk-management way. But I couldn’t bear to get into a situation where it affects my parents again.’
‘But I thought they didn’t know about everything The Wanker did?’
‘They don’t. And I thought telling them I was going travelling was sparing them from any upset as well as saving me the embarrassment, but being away from them for such a long time is hard for all of us. I figured it would be fine. I’m an adult but I miss them. And the thought of being a let-down after all they have done for me weighs heavy.’ Darla’s shoulders sagged as she spoke.
‘Why are we so programmed to please our parents? Surely back when we lived in caves it wouldn’t have been like that.’
‘We’d have been too busy trying to stay alive to worry about what our parents thought. Ahh,’ said Darla wistfully. ‘Simpler times.’
‘I’m not entirely sure that’s true but I do think we worry far too much what other people think. We pass judgement on ourselves based on others’ standards. I suspect we didn’t overthink things as much when we lived in caves.’
‘That’s because you’d have been eaten by a sabre-toothed cat or squashed by a woolly mammoth long before thirty,’ said Darla.
‘I’m not sure which I’d prefer,’ said Ros, looking like she was actually weighing up the pros and cons.
‘Difficult choice. Disappointed parents or a herd of marauding mammoths? Parents, who’d have ’em,’ said Darla and they clinked glasses.
The rest of the evening flew by and Darla ordered an Uber. They hugged and Darla left with the television in her arms. What the Uber driver would think she didn’t know but she didn’t care because now she had a telly. All she had to do was track down Winston and she was sorted for lovely afternoons in front of her favourite programmes with a cat on her lap – bliss.
