‘Look, men sign up to dating sites for a reason, right?’
‘Sure. Hoping for a string of regular but casual blow jobs, maybe?’
‘I’m not talking about Sinder.’
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘It’s like a hook-up app. On your phone? A sort of digital meat market. Fast food for sex?’
‘Nope.’
‘Forget it. Look—if you sign up to a proper dating agency, the men there, they’re like, committed to looking for a partner, right?’
‘Sure...’ I say unconvinced and not at all certain where she’s going with this.
‘So, it’ll be a safe slide in,’ she says, again with the obvious tone.
‘Slide.’
‘Yeah. A slide into the dating pool. Via the shallow end.’
‘I really don’t know what to say.’ Because I barely understand what she’s said.
‘It’s just, you’re the kind of woman who needs a man—now hang on—don’t take that arseways,’ she says as I begin to stutter my rebuttal. ‘Maybeneedis too strong a term, but I’m not with Ivy on this one. Some people just need other people, don’t they? I know I don’t know you as well as she does, but I think you’re one of those people. One half of a pair. And well, you’re gorgeous, right?’ My lips are still moving, but not a great deal of sound comes out beyond little puffs of air. ‘You are. And men are going to be all over you. You’ve got that vulnerable sort of air.’
‘You really must be high.’ I scoff. ‘I’m sarcastic and cold—’
‘And you’ve got a right to be, but I don’t think you see yourself clearly.’
‘How many of those have you had?’ I gesture to the empty shot glass behind her.
‘Not as many as you’ll have had by the time you crawl into bed tonight. Look, you need a man because you’re that kind of woman—a good woman. You deserve to be loved and cherished and all that sort of stuff.’ She begins to speak faster, determined to get out everything she feels ought to be said as I begin to stand. ‘This isn’t about one night stands. I just worry that you’ll be taken advantage of. Join a dating site for fuck’s sakes. Go on a dozen dates—go on a tonne of them.’
‘Yes, well, thanks for your input and the appraisal on the dating world, but nothing’s changed.’ I need a Mr. Right like I need a hole in the right side of my head.
‘So you’re going to continue to give yourself to the man who deserves nothing from you—not your mourning, not your regard and certainly not your love.’
I begin to gather the contents of my make-up bag when her words strike me like a knife to the chest. But I don’t have the chance to answer as I discover the reason for hurried words.
‘Why, Fin, don’t you look like a Bobby dazzler!’ June’s exclamation pulls my gaze to the doorway where she and a sheepish looking Ivy stand. ‘You look lovely, hen. Like a film star.’
‘She’d’ve looked like Morticia Adams left to her own make-up devices,’ mumbles Nat.
‘Thank you, June. Are you coming out for a glass of sherry with us?’ I wouldn’t mind. It might help these two keep their thoughts to themselves. June is good people; sometimes she’s the voice of reason and other times she’s just a bit mad.
‘Ocht, no. Ivy just asked me to pop in. She had her knickers in a knot about you cutting your hair. To be honest, I thought you must’ve gone off like that singer, Britney what’s her face, and cut your hair wi’ a carving knife. What’s her name again? My memory these days... Ah—Brittany Spikes!’ I don’t bother correcting her; just raise an eyebrow in Ivy’s direction as June grips her elbow. ‘From what you said, I was expecting the girl to be an unholy mess. You did a beautiful job, Ivy. I might get you to do mine like that next time,’ she says, patting her white curls. ‘Do away with the perm. What do you think?’
‘I think you were supposed to tell Fin she should be resting after her shock.’
‘What? Not a bit of it. She’s beginning to see the man she married wasn’t who she thought he was. She’ll be fine. And you’re only young once, I say. A hair-do like that deserves to be out there painting the town red, but not you,’ she adds, immediately pointing a finger at her granddaughter. ‘Natasha, if I find you’ve rubbed lipstick all over my front windows, I’m getting you out of bed in time for mass in the morning, you hear?’
‘It was only the once. And it was a year ago. And, I only wrote to say why I wasn’t home.’
‘And left your knickers on the front step, foreby!’
‘Aye, there was that,’ she agrees.
‘Just you keep them on tonight, missy, for I’ll be keeping in my hearing aid.’ The smile slides off Natasha’s face just like melted ice-cream. ‘That means no bringing home any strange men, hmm?’
‘But I like them strange.’
‘I mean it.’
‘Seriously, June.’ Natasha huffs. ‘You spoil all my bloody fun.’
