Rachel stares at her aunt, who’s still crying.
‘I know you think you can help,’ she says, ‘but you can’t really. April has always got a drama going on and you just have to let her get on with it. That’s what Mum says. I love her, but, you know, some men are unobtainable. And April loves them.’
‘Ah,’ I say, understanding. ‘Is this one of those, he’s with his family at Christmas and she’s here alone without him feeling neglected?’
‘Got it in one,’ says Rachel. ‘Poor April, she doesn’t know how to be happy on her own, she has to have some complication connected to her. I don’t understand it. Feminism passed her by.’
I look at Rachel thoughtfully. ‘You really do remind me of my sister, Vilma,’ I say. ‘Girls don’t rule the world. Not yet, anyway. We’re trying, but it’s not an even fight. Don’t think we’ve won because then you underestimate them. Feminism 2.0.’
‘Oh I know,’ she says grimly. ‘I had an – er ... little incident one evening my friend Megan and I were out. Some guy did his best to put his hand up my skirt and I literally had to run. Got stuck outside the back of the club and Mum ended up racing in because Megan couldn’t find me. I never told her about the guy, by the way,’ Rachel adds, looking panicked. ‘I mean, it was nothing.’
‘It’s rarely nothing,’ I say carefully. ‘It leaves a mark.’
‘Yeah, taught me not to wear short skirts,’ says Rachel cynically. ‘But that’s wrong, isn’t it? Why can’t I wear what I want without some dude thinking he has the right to stick his hand up it?’
‘There’s whatshouldhappen and what does,’ I say. ‘The two are often different. In an ideal world, you should wear what you want and be alone with anyone you feel like, but in the real world, the rules of the jungle apply.’
She nods and looks at me thoughtfully.
Just then, I see Finn arriving. Our eyes meet and he strides straight over to me, which makes me light up inside.
‘Hi,’ I say breathlessly.
‘See ya,’ whispers Rachel, and she’s gone.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ he says. ‘Traffic.’
I have this overpowering urge to reach up and pull his head down to mine, to kiss him, but at that moment, Marin whizzes past, says ‘Hello all!’ and the moment is gone.
I let out a shaky breath and watch as Finn hugs Marin hello and thanks her for inviting him.
He didn’t hug me, I think, suddenly hit with the realisation. He has never really touched me.
All this fantasy is on one side because if he liked me, really liked me, he’d have put his arms around me and given me a friendly hug, one that could gently segue into something else, but he hasn’t.
My silly head, my crazy heart, has invented this great romance.
Stung, I lower my head and remember his present. I’ll give it to him but then he needs to be out of my life because I like him too much. And it’s not reciprocated.
‘I got you some nice chocolate today when I was out with Vilma,’ I say, offhandedly.
His eyes stare into mine.
I can’t read the look in them: guilt that he hasn’t bought me anything? Horror that I’m overstepping the friend thing with a Christmas present?
Bloody women, that’s probably what he’s thinking.
I shove the gift into his hands and stalk off towards the kitchen. I’ll help Marin out and then I’m gone. Rachel is still on service duty and seems to welcome the help. I’m doing one last run of goodies with Rachel and we end up in the kitchen again where, miraculously, Marin is not racing around.
Rachel’s intelligent young gaze turns to me. ‘Are you dating Finn?’
I am used to this utter honesty from young women, seeing as I have Vilma doing it to me all the time.
‘Don’t forget I have a sister around your age,’ I say, ‘so I am immune to being interrogated,’ and I manage a brave grin at her.
She grins back.
‘It was worth a try. We are just friends,’ I say,over-brightly. ‘It’s a great thing to have male friends. You probably have some?’
