It’s just that it bites. And I’m worried.
His very personality type dictates that it’s unlikely he is ghosting me. If I have done anything to offend him, it’s far more likely that he’d tell me directly, in a slightly apologetic manner, that he thinks it will be best if we don’t spend time together.
Ghosting is very definitely not a Rory Walters thing.
And as Daddy dearest frequently likes to tell me, the world does not revolve around me.
However, knowing it may have nothing to do with me doesn’t stop me feeling all those emotions you get when someone ignores you. The inadequacy, the paranoia, the anger. I’m spiralling through all of those feelings so I do the thing I always do in times of trouble, I curl up in my bed – to my shame with my phone right next to me so when he does get in touch I can see it – and pick up my well-thumbed copy ofAntony and Cleopatra. I figure it’s time to throw myself back in again from the very start. After all, I may have missed something the first few times around.
I’m at the bit where Antony has had Caesar’s messenger whipped when my phone beeps. I’m so tangled up in my bedding I jump an inch or two in the air, the phone goes flying and I catch my foot in the duvet and land thwack on the floor, the phone hurtles into the air, I change my direction, shape my body into a preposterous angle and reach ready to catch it and … miss.
Thwack.
I always was shit at netball.
Untangling myself from the covers before I trip myself over again, I grab my phone, right myself on the floor and look at the screen.
Still mad excited about the Jamal thing. You so deserve this. What you up to today? If you not mixing with mega-stars or working one of your zillion secret jobs obvs. Wanna come play?
It’s Luisa.
Ding dong.
‘Belle, Belle! Come in.’ As Luisa opens the door Marsha propels herself through it and barrels into me, hugs my legs super tight and then grabs my hand and tries to drag me through the hallway.
‘Woah.’
I dig my heels in to try and slow her down. Almost-five-year-olds may not be very big but don’t ever be fooled into thinking that they lack strength.
‘Mummy and Daddy bought me a pony for Chrissmas!’ she shouts as I pull her back towards me.
‘You bought her a pony?’ I ask Luisa.
‘Fuck no!’ Luisa mouths over Marsha’s head. ‘Yes, we did, you’re going to love GeeGee,’ she says out loud.
‘You’ll love her and love her and love her,’ Marsha declares, tugging on my hand again.
‘And you keep the pony in the kitchen?’ I ask, the corners of my mouth twitching. ‘Does it try and get in the fridge?’
‘We do. And of course not, she’s very well trained. She’s very happy in there,’ Luisa replies.
‘Oh my goodness, sheismagnificent,’ I say as we enter the kitchen and Marsha pulls my arm half out of its socket in her quest to get me to see GeeGee, her beautifully old-fashioned rocking horse. ‘And what a wonderful name.’
‘Yes, we’re going to get her a stars and stripes bikini and give her a pole for her birthday.’
‘Don’t be silly, Mummy! She wants hay for her birthday. Horses don’t wear bikinis!’
‘No, they don’t. I thought you would have known that, Luisa,’ I say in my most playground ner-ner voice, trying not to giggle. ‘So with GeeGee here, I guess you won’t be interested in any presents in my bag?’
Marsha stops lovingly stroking GeeGee and boings over to my side. ‘What is it? What is it?’
‘I tell you what, if you have your present from Belle now and we give her hers, will you go and watch a movie whilst we catch up?’ Luisa asks and Marsha looks at her mother suspiciously.
‘If I don’t watch a movie will I still get presents?’
‘No,’ says Luisa firmly.
I open my eyes wide at her. ‘Look, it’s day five of the Christmas holidays, I’ve forgotten what adult company is, Remi seems to been superglued to the office chair and I need half an hour with my best mate and preferably six dozen Christmas cocktails,’ she explains.
