‘He just what, love?’
She had momentarily forgotten that her sister was on the end of the line.
‘Oh! He drove into me, the... the passenger door in fact, there’s a big old dent.’
‘Jeez, well thank goodness no one was standing by your car, they’d have been squished!’
‘Yup.’ This a very Angela path to walk, straight to the worst scenario, the unpalatable. ‘But they weren’t. So...’
‘Did you get his details?’
‘Yes, he was a... erm... a man. A driving, man.’ She pictured his tanned forearms, his chunky watch, the underside of his wrist, the soft fringe falling over his face.
‘Enya, have you been drinking?’
She laughed loudly. ‘No! I’m just thinking about the crash, although crash makes it sound so much more than it was, more of a bump, a bump with meaning. Not aggressive, more a second’s lapse in concentration and then... bam! But it was odd, a strange encounter really. Not sure how to describe it without sounding like a loon, I wasn’t going to mention it, probably won’t tell Jen, but the man was...’
‘Enya! You sound a bit giggly? Are you telling me you fancy the man who smacked into your car? Or am I reading too much into it?’
She could hear the excitement in her sister’s voice and wondered if this was a good idea, to open up in this way.
‘Fancy is a strong word.’
‘Is it?’ Angela laughed again.
‘It wasn’t that straightforward. It was nothing, but he was...’ She ran out of words and smiled at the memory of him driving off with that song playing.
‘Enya, I love you, but I’m tired. Mum will already have sent out a search party, Frank will be cursing me for abandoning him, and Dad will have nodded off into his pastel de nata, I’m plonked on wet sand and there’s a young couple necking on a sunbed to my left, so I don’t have time for the preliminaries, just tell me – and I know this is huge, but youlikedthis man, and then?’
‘And then nothing.’ She sat up straight and took a deep breath. ‘You’re right, it was huge. I mean it was nothing, but it was the first time I’ve felt, I don’t know how to say it, like I wanted to spend some time with someone, I wanted tolookat him. Wanted to touch him.’ She felt the spread of a blush, this level of candour not something she was used to.
‘So, you found him attractive?’ Angela cut to the chase.
‘I... I did. And it’s weird and new and unwelcome and disrupting.’ She used the words that didn’t come easily.
‘Only if you let it be, my love. Only if you choose to remain in your ice den.’
Enya jolted a little. ‘What does that mean?’
‘It means that you choose to hide away. Not physically, but you know how some women are really good at giving off warmth and come-and-get-me vibes?’
‘Yes.’ She knew women like that.
‘Well, you’re the opposite of that. You’re an Arctic fox, cool, mysterious, and quite unapproachable, icy.’
‘I don’t think Jenny would describe me as icy!’
‘Of course she wouldn’t. You only reserve it for men! It’s a skill. A superpower, you can repel an interested mate at fifty paces with no more than a raise of your eyebrow and a fixed expression of disinterest.’
‘Really? An Arctic fox?’ Enya wasn’t sure if she was more offended by the analogy or her sister’s choice of animal; surely if she was any animal she wouldn’t be a fox, they were sly and wily, chicken nabbers.
‘Or a penguin or any other chilly beast you care to name. Any creature who would undeniably benefit from popping on a woolly scarf and having a bowl of soup instead of standing in the cold.’
‘Is that how you see my life?’ It wasn’t a pleasant thought.
‘A little bit, yes.’ Angela took a deep breath. ‘When I call you on a Sunday morning and tell you where we’ve walked, any pub we’ve been to, the mates we’ve seen, trips planned, you reply with something funny that Pickle has done or tell me what Holly has made you as a gift, or you give me an update on how your seedlings have sprouted.’
‘Becausethat’smy life!’
