“I’ll sort something.” I just didn’t know what. “It might not matter if Rose knows.”
“Don’t you think it’s better if she does? Something like this she’ll find out anyway, you know that, and she’ll be hurt if you’ve kept it from her.” The box ripping had stopped. Instead, I could hear her sympathy.
“I know. I should’ve told her last year when we came up with this batshit crazy idea.”
“Why don’t I speak to her? Explain it?”
“She can’t be at the wedding anyway.” I didn’t want her to see me kiss Laurie. We’d be faking it, the chemistry, because there was nothing between us. We’d tried a date after hatching the plan for me to be her fake husband then she could access her trust, and the shops and her business would be signed completely over to her, and it had involved as much chemistry as the bottom of the Atlantic. Laurie was gorgeous and intelligent, and no straight man in his right mind would not find her attractive, but both of us needed more than just a pretty face.
“I know. You need to tell her how you feel.”
That old instruction again.
“Even I don’t know how I feel. And I don’t know how she feels – we’ve been friends since we were kids.” I sighed and opened a bag of crisps, good old English Walkers’ prawn cocktail and my weakness.
“Well it’s up to you.”
“Women always say that when they think you’re making a mistake.”
“I think you’re making a mistake.”
“Thanks.”
We ended the call after going through some more of the practicalities. Laurie was living with me until she’d bought herself somewhere, because London was going to be her main base. Once she had her trust, she could buy somewhere outright, but couldn’t act before. She’d already sent some of her belongings over as cargo, and I needed to be in to receive delivery of them, which was going to be fun, because there was a lot. We also had wedding shit to sort out – flowers and the food tasting at the hotel which I’d be doing by myself next week as they needed a decision – why it had to be so far away, I didn’t understand. It took me less time to plan a surgery.
But I spent the rest of the evening thinking about Rose and all the things I’d decided not to say.
Sometimes it’s those words we regret the most. The ones that stayed silent.
CHAPTER 5
Rose
The set of unmade packing boxes in the hallway were perturbing me. They’d been there for at least five days, neatly stacked against the wall, still flat, still in cellophane wrappers, the light from the sconces reflecting off the plastic, making them look almost pretty.
I was trying to find the silver lining.
Harriet moving away was hitting me hard.
I could analyse myself, reflect, apply understanding and theory as to why I felt like I did, why I found attachments so intense if I felt them at all, why big changes to my routine upset my equilibrium. I had an autism diagnosis, which I’d received as a younger child, and I also had attachment difficulties, growing up without my father around and relying on my mother to keep my world stable and safe. Friends had taken on some of that role as I got older, and my step-father, Seph, had become an anchor quickly. His big, overwhelming family had been wrapped around me like an eiderdown, warm and sometimes suffocating, especially if one of my cousins has been pulling it over my head.
I’d met Harriet when I’d been scared. It had been a pre-op appointment, and one of the nurses had shown me and my mum the ward I’d be on, helping me become familiar with it.I’d read up on the operation I had to have, and I understood the mechanics of it. Although my strength was in English and reading, I was still exceptional at science and biology particularly, so I got why I needed the operation.
But I was terrified.
I’d never been under anaesthetic before, I’d never stayed in hospital overnight, used to my bedroom or the room at Seph’s parents when we all stopped there, or when we went to their house in Oxfordshire. I had a thousand different questions in my head, many of which I knew were irrational and silly and I didn’t want to ask even though hearing the answer out loud would calm me.
My mum and the nurse started talking in quiet voices, my mum voicing her own fears which I didn’t want to listen to and I knew she didn’t want me to hear her ask. So I separated myself, hanging back near a bookcase of stories that really needed an influx of more modern texts.
There was another girl, one with dark brown hair that was straighter than a giraffe’s neck and just as long, sitting on her bed with a book open, but she wasn’t reading; she was watching me.
I smiled at her awkwardly, swallowing hard because I was nervous and still not sure how to make new friends.
“Hi. I’m Rose. Are you having an operation?”
The girl smiled at me and nodded. “I’m having a valve replacement, which sounds like something a plumber would do. Are you?” She put the book face down on the bed.
I nodded as well, inching closer, not wanting to get too far into her personal space without her asking. “In a couple of days. What’s your name?”
