“Absolutely not. You look amazing.”
Dad smiles, embarrassed again.
“So, who’s the lucky lady?”
“Mrs Reynolds.”
“Our neighbour?”
He shrugs.
“I was wondering why we had all those homemade cakes and biscuits lying around the house,” I say, as he blushes violently.
Mrs Reynolds is one of our neighbours, a kind, polite woman in her early fifties. From what I know, she was widowed when she was very young and never had any children, so she lives on her own in a big house a few metres from ours. I’ve caught them chatting over the garden hedges for months now, as awkwardly as two teenagers with a crush on each other, but I was starting to believe my dad would never take it any further.
“Is that okay?”
“Are you kidding?”
“It’s not weird?”
“Absolutely not! It’s fantastic. So when’s the big date?”
“Tonight. Cinema then dinner.”
My dad’s life is honestly more exciting than mine right now.
“What’s up? You don’t look very happy.”
“No, Dad, of course I am! I was just on the phone to Mrs O’Connor. Her husband has a check-up visit tomorrow so he won’t be able to do his physio. She asked me if I could come over today instead, so that he doesn’t fall behind on his progress.”
“You deserve a nice night out, too. What is it – does the nurse have other plans?”
“The doctor,” I correct him. “And he’s working.”
Dad scoffs. “I already don’t like the fact you’re going out with him, but if he starts to stand you up before you’ve even…”
“He’s not standing me up,” I cut him off. “Besides, we’ve only been going out for a few weeks. It’s nothing serious yet.”
“And I hope it never is.”
Apparently my dad has decided to join forces with Martin in sabotaging my love life.
“You deserve better than someone who puts his work before you,” Dad concludes, before heading back into his room.
I go up to my apartment to get ready for work, Dad’s words flying around my mind, colliding with a niggling thought that seems to be growing bigger and bigger inside me, suffocating me – but, at the same time, it’s teaching my heart to beat again.
* * *
Chris opens the door,welcoming me with a huge smile. “Hey, Casey! Come in.”
She lets me in and leads me into the living room, where Mrs O’Connor comes right over to us.
“There you are, dear. We were just putting the kettle on – do you want a cup of tea?”
“I’d love one, thanks.”
“I’ll have a beer, actually.” Evan – Chris and Martin’s son – appears in the living room, covered in mud and grass stains.
