At some point, some sense had crept into my head, and I’d set night mode to finish at eight on a weekend morning, so that the early morning group messages didn’t wake me up.
I glanced at the clock on the wall. Eight-oh-two. Unsurprising. I pulled the phone off my bedside table, forgetting it was on charge as it met resistance and cursing. The sound of voices echoed through from the hallway and I heard murmurs thanking someone for last night and then the sound of the door click.
Shay, unsurprisingly, hadn’t come home alone. I’d left him, Maven and Immy in a bar with a couple of Shay’s colleagues, one a paramedic who was chatting up Imogen, the other a surgeon or something.
I’d headed home around eleven, catching an Uber and looking at the messages sent between me and Georgie during the week.
Hope you’re having a good weekend after your first week.
I’d pressed send after overthinking it for a few minutes and had stared at my phone to see if she responded quickly.
She hadn’t. For all I knew, she could’ve been with a boyfriend or a lover or she could’ve been out at a club. It bothered me that I didn’t know, and not just because of what Immy had said.
Before opening the family group message, which was now up to five unread, I opened the response from her which was now there, sent at seven this morning.
Sorry!Had an early night and just seen this. Was recovering from Friday. First time in ages I’ve had drinks after work. Great first week; thank you for your support.
It didn’t really invitea response back. And she’d used a semi-colon in her text, which told me a lot about Georgie.
I stared at the message for a little longer, debating what to respond and wondering whether she’d briefly woken up and then gone back to sleep, or whether she was having breakfast.
What she was wearing.
And that was a line of thought I needed to end now.
My phone continued to ping with messages from my family. Mum was excited as we were all getting together today, including all her grandchildren, and all those who played rugby were excited because we were playing rubgy, which meant a good couple of hours where everyone’s man card was intact. Starting to read those messages would definitely take my mind of whatever Georgie was doing.
But I didn’t do it.
I texted back.
You’re welcome.I think we’re going to be a good team. No Saturday night out partying then?
I watched the screen,seeing that she’d read it almost immediately, and then those dots appeared, moving along for a few seconds and then they stopped. I continued to stare, wondering if responding had been a bad move.
The dots started again.
My Saturday nightconsisted of a book, two glasses of wine and take out. How was yours?
I felta little jolt of something that she’d responded. Not trying to analyse it, I started to type back.
A meal with family,then an early-ish night. Any plans for today?
I second guessedwhat I was putting, thought about rewriting it, adding something about work and then decided not to.
There was a lull of a couple of minutes before she read it, during which about a dozen more messages came through from my siblings and parents. I ignored those, developing stalker tendencies from somewhere – I blamed Max – and watching the screen.
The shower kicked in and I heard the whirring sound of the washing machine which meant Shay was sorting his sheets. I tried not to cringe, knowing I’d gone through the same process on many Sundays or Saturdays or both.
Now it all felt a bit crappy.
What’syour idea of early? It’s probably my idea of extremely late! Housework today, then food shopping. Seriously, Friday was about as exciting as my life gets. You don’t have to worry about me coming into the office with a hangover. What are your plans?
I read it three times,trying to find out more about her without asking any questions. Why wasn’t she out on a Saturday? Was she married? Boyfriend? People in serious relationships still had lives – I babysat often enough for Claire and Jackson, and Ava and Eli were rarely in of an evening.
I witnessedmy cousin hooking up with some randomer and I just heard him seeing her out of the door of our apartment. I’d rather have stayed in and not had a housemate. I think he’s now washing his sheets. I’m playing rugby this morning and then it’s a family Sunday lunch, which usually involves too much booze. Did you enjoy your first week at Callaghan Green? I hope the idiot you share an office with was okay.
If any ofmy brothers ever got hold of my phone and saw that message, I’d be torn a new arsehole.
