I stay a while, making small talk with Danny while Kate fills up a bag of new potatoes and chats to the middle-aged woman with bright-blue eyeshadow. I don’t know how Kate remembers the names and families of all her regular customers. She’s mid-conversation when Danny throws in a few one-liners. But Kate doesn’t seem to notice the way he talks and talks and talks, barely giving her enough space to tell the woman the price. He’s all right though, even if he does think he’s funnier than he is. And he loves Kate.
I say my goodbyes and head off back up the high street, past the cinema, and take a right until I get to John Menzies and buy a first-class stamp, a notepad, then head out of the sun towards home.
Mam and Dad are downstairs, watchingGrandstand. Carl is thankfully out doing God only knows what with his mates. I chuck one of Carl’s crisp wrappers in the bin beneath my desk and shift a septic glass of milk out of the way. I sit at my desk in the same way as I did when I was a teenager studying for my O levels. I slide open my drawer and unfold the corner of chip paper. It still smells of vinegar, and I know it’s my imagination,but I swear I smell cherries too. I shake my head, and double-check the address. Her writing is slightly smudged, but the number 76 is clear enough.
I pick up the ring, sliding it through the chain around my neck so that it sits beneath my grey T-shirt, and reach for a pen.
7
ALICE
No. No. No.
I re-read the email in my sent box where I have not only pitched the idea of an article about Michael and Alice’s lost love story but also promised that this could be made into a regular column. I look at the email through splayed fingers across my face as I count my excessive use of exclamation marks (a quick scan counts fourteen!). Oh God. My stomach bottoms out as I re-read the actual text again: ‘This will be a fresh and genital love story!’ I enthusiastically signed off by saying ‘we can touch ass later!!!’ I groan and rest my head on the table. That’s it. If I thought my career was over before, this is definitely that last nail in the coffin. Giuditta will never want to work with me again after this. I lift my head and with a shaking finger, move the cursor to my inbox. I close one of my eyes and click.
It’s empty.
Shit.
* * *
‘What exactly about setting the ashes of my career alight is funny?’ I ask Josie the next afternoon, as I place another box to be ‘sold on eBay’ on top of the solid oak desk. Just like the rest of my furniture, it’s too big for the small space that I’d planned on making my office.
I’ve just got back from taking Georgia shopping. She’s growing up so quickly, asking if she could have a coffee instead of the milkshake she used to prefer. I tried to get her to open up about hearing the girls talking about her, but she’d stayed quiet. In the end I’d just swerved the conversation to me and Spence.
‘You had other friends though, right?’ she’d asked, stirring her coffee.
‘Yeah, but sometimes all you need is one. One friend who will stick with you through thick and thin. Who likes you despite, and often, because you’re not perfect. That’s what real friendship is.’
‘Like Ruby?’
‘Yes. Just like Ruby.’
She’d snorted quietly.
‘What?’
‘I was just thinking that Dad said the same thing about you. You annoy him all the time.’
‘Well, there you go. And he’s still my friend.’
‘And you’re his, even though he can be a right grump sometimes.’
‘Exactly.’
It wasn’t much, but I’m hoping something about that will stick with her when she goes back to school.
Josie’s leaning against the white wall, loose beige trousers and white linen shirt hanging gracefully from her frame. Sweat blooms under the arms of my green top and stained jeans. She grins at her phone. ‘And don’t you bloody dare put it on TikTok!’ I add, reaching for her.
‘Hey!’ she says as I try to snatch the phone from her hands, but she turns it around so that I can see it’s a message to Spencer telling him about the email.
‘I wouldn’t put your personal life on social media… Not unless you give me your permission?’ she asks, fluttering her eyelashes.
‘Absolutely not.’ I waft the collar of my too-thick top trying to cool my body. I really need to tackle the suitcases still standing at the bottom of my bed. I reach over and unlock the window, letting in some air. My elbow catches the edge of one of the boxes to my right.
‘Shit.’ The contents spill out onto the grey carpet that still smells of carpet showrooms and plastic. I reach for the journal amongst the books and toiletries that have landed across the box-room floor. Photos of me and Ryan in Italy last year stare up. I’m grinning at the camera like the fool I am. My whole body sinks onto the floor, the grey of the carpet matching my pallor.
‘Why didn’t I guess?’ I ask Josie, my voice cracking as I stare at the photo.
