‘Liv, don’t be ridiculous. Liv!’
‘Zzzzzzzz.’
‘You are such a child sometimes,’ said Charlotte and she stomped out of the room.
Liv barely left her room for the next few hours, only to forage for a pot noodle and scoot back to the safety of her pit. She must have nodded off because she was woken by the sound of high-speed chatter, and that could mean only one thing. She sat up in bed just as Charlotte let herself in. She was not alone. Liv pointed at her accusatorially. ‘You called Mum!’
Her mother came bustling into the room and immediately began straightening the bedcovers with Liv still under them. ‘Of course she did, Olivia. What else was she to do? Hmm? You’re refusing to get out of bed. Mithering about some lad who probably doesn’t even exist. They set up fake accounts on the internet just to get your money. Marjorie at number seventeen was scammed by an Elbonian prince. Awful business. You’ve had a lucky escape. Now you hop in the shower and I’ll get you out something nice to wear. Okay?’
It was very much not okay but when faced with her mother’s wall of words it triggered a deep desire to flee, so a shower was a safe alternative. Liv slunk out of bed and glared at a smug-looking Charlotte as she left the room.
When she came back her mother had put out the only dress she owned. She would not be wearing that. She brushed her hair and gave it a quick blast with a hairdryer, threw on a long-sleeved top and her favourite jumpsuit. Feeling marginally better, she went to face the verbal equivalent of a firing squad.
‘Ah, here she is,’ said her mum, getting up to wrap her in a hug. She squeezed far too tight, as if she hadn’t seen her for ten years rather than the ten minutes she’d been in the shower. ‘I’ve made you a nice brew. Now come and tell me all about it and we’ll work out what to do.’ Her mum tilted her head as she ran an eye over what she was wearing. ‘That’s not what I put out. Maybe you wearing boiler suits all the time gives people the wrong impression.’
Charlotte tried to hide a laugh with a cough. She was sitting at the dining table pretending to work on her laptop. Liv scowled at her.
‘It’s a jumpsuit, Mum. And it’s fine. People wear them all the time.’
‘Do they? I knowyoudo, but other than workmen, I can’t say I know anyone else. Anyway, let’s not dwell on the overalls. Tell me about this chap and what’s happened.’
Liv went over the whole sorry situation again whilst sipping her tea in between rants. Her mum did make the best cuppa going, and she listened attentively and didn’t butt in. Liv concluded with: ‘I know it’s not the end of the world and I’ll be fine and all that. It was just a bit of a blow it happening again. I was taking the day to recalibrate.’
‘Uh, men are the worst,’ said her mum. ‘Look at your father. He was gone before I’d even brought you home from hospital. The placenta stuck around longer than he did.’
‘Eww, Mum!’
‘My point is, you need to know this really isn’t about you. You are a beautiful girl and whoever he is, or was, he doesn’t deserve you.’
‘Thanks. I’d not go that far but I know I’m not Quasimodo.’
‘You can’t say that love, it’s racist,’ said her mum.
‘It’s not racist, Mum.’
‘I think you’ll find it is. He was French and you know first-hand what they can be like. Odd race. But never mind. What we need to work out now is what you do next.’ Her mum looked at her hopefully.
‘There’s nothing I can do, Mum. He’s ghosted me. It’s like it sounds. He’s now a ghost. Gone, no trace of him anywhere.’
‘I don’t believe that.’ She got out her ancient mobile phone. ‘What was the restaurant called?’
‘Um something Scottish, I think. It’s in a hotel.’ Liv couldn’t remember any details. She wasn’t even certain that he’d shared that much.
‘Where was it again?’
‘Loch Lochy,’ said Liv in a small voice; she glared over at Charlotte, willing her to snigger. ‘But that’s obviously a made-up—’
‘Here it is,’ said her mum turning her phone screen around to show her. ‘Bonnie Scott’s Restaurant, Lochy House Hotel, Great Glen Way, Glendormie, Inverness-Shire.’
‘Bloody hell,’ said Charlotte coming from behind her laptop. ‘Hedoesexist.’
‘Of course he exists!’ Liv threw up her hands. Charlotte was infuriating. Although a little part of her was hugely relieved as she had been starting to think Charlotte was right.
‘Well, the place where heworksis real.Himwe don’t know about. Why don’t you call and ask to speak to him. Tell him what you think of him and put the phone down,’ suggested her mum.
‘Tempting but it’s likely as soon as I start ranting he’d hang up.’
‘Definitely,’ said Charlotte. ‘Forget about it, Liv.’ She shrugged. ‘Do what you usually do – dodge the difficult situation and carry on with your life.’
