I can’t look at him. I find myself staring at his shoes. “I don’t think it’s worth getting into a legal battle with Michael. I just want to put it behind me.”
“All of it?” James asks, his voice husky.
Is he asking if I want to put the moments ofusbehind me too? I push my thumb and forefinger onto my closed eyelids to hide my face from him. Is that what I want?
“I’m not going back to London,” I say out of nowhere. It’s even a surprise to me. I’d been wondering if going back was the right thing. The discussion with Mum yesterday about being lonely there was true. It didn’t suit my personality. I wasn’t the type to go out to bars all the time and it was slowly feeling like that was the only way to have friends in the city. And my damp room was not the place to be spending my only free time.
No, my London life might just be over.
“Ok…” James says. “So, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying we are never going to work, are we? Not really? If that’s what you mean? And so, yeah, you should probably leave.”
James’ breath hitches. It’s as if I’ve hurt him somehow which is madness. He’s James Boatman. He’ll find someone better than me in seconds. There’s no way he’s grieving me. I can’t even allow myself to accept it.
“I’ll just go then,” he says, hurt lacing his words. I still can’t look at him. “Mostly I came to say that my friend is an employment solicitor, and when I told him what happened, he said we could take Michael for his worth. So, if you fancied coming on board, we’ve got a better fight together than separately.” He exhales slowly. Without touching me again, he moves towards the door. “If you happen to have that note he left us… er, me… with the bags that would be helpful.”
I know where it is. It’s in my room in London, tucked into my underwear drawer. I don’t say that though. Instead, I open my mouth, spilling the words before they can be screened by my brain. “Are you just doing it for the money?”
I turn to catch his face at the door. He squints at me as if he’s seeing a different person. Then he laughs, sharply, as if someone has tickled him with a knife. “Yeah. I’ve got a problem, clearly. It wasn’t because for once I wanted to be on the same team with you against Michael.”
And then he’s gone, slamming the front door as he goes. I breathe out in one long stream, feeling the tension escape my body.
Mum rushes down the stairs, with a face that says she heard every word.
“What are you doing!? Go after him!”
“I can’t. We’re not right for each other. We’ll just fight, Mum. Even in Scotland, it was just bickering the whole time.”
“Bickering that turned to kissing?” she says like I’m stupid. “More than kissing?”
I look away, my cheeks on fire.
“Go after him. He likes you, Flissity. He’s admitted he wants to be on your team. Honestly! What does he have to do to get your interest?”
“He doesn’t even know what his life plan is! He doesn’t know what he wants or what he’s doing. All he cares about is money. I can’t be with someone like that.”
Mum puts her hands on her hips. “I don’t think that’s true. Do you like him?”
“Yes,” I say frantically as if that’s the stupidest thing she could say. “But I can’t see myselfwithhim.” Mum doesn’t say anything, waiting for my words to sink into my brain. The realisation is slow, burning. I blink at the ceiling, letting the tears soak my ears. “He’s James flipping Gloatman. He’s the worst person I know.”
Still, she says nothing, just tilting her head.
“I can’t sue Michael. I can’t burn bridges like that. What if…” The realisation hits me like a brick. “Oh god. I’ve got to sue Michael.” My breathing hastens, my heart rate quickening. “I’ve got to sue Michael.”
“You both do,” she says quietly.
I square my shoulders, pat my cheeks dry again with my sleeves.
“And I have to give things with James a go, don’t I?”
“No,” Mum says. “You don’thave toat all.”
I laugh. “I know,” I say. “But I think I want to.”
She laughs too, stepping closer to wrap her arms around me.
“Don’t let your silly parents be the reason you don’t settle down with someone who isn’t quite your image of perfect.”
