I had one of them tell me I was a loser this week because I couldn’t name every member of the English test team for the last ten years.’
‘And he could?’ Even before I tried to reach for the jar of pesto, Sam had stepped in front of me to take it off the shelf.
‘Of course he could. Asperger’s. I’m going to put him up for the Test Match Special stats team. Honestly, this kid has a memory like a steel trap.’
Before long, our weekly shop was almost done and we were at the wine aisle.
‘Prosecco?’ asked Sam.
‘OK then, I think Mum will be suitably impressed. Although if I were you I’d take off your sweater. You look like you might spontaneously combust.’ I lifted the hem of his sweater and he gave in and peeled the rest off.
‘Phew, that’s better.’
‘I appreciate the gesture.’ I took the handle of the trolley. ‘We need to get a wiggle on.’
‘It was only going to be for first impressions.’ Sam wiped at his forehead, the blond hair around his forehead springing into damp curls.
‘You’re crazy.’
‘Crazy about you,’ he said, putting his hands on either side of mine on the handle of the trolley and kissing the side of my neck. ‘I—’
‘Well, isn’t this sweet,’ drawled a sugary voice. ‘Shopping together.’
My heart did a nosedive. Seriously? Victoria, again, here. Immediately self-conscious, I pushed a hand through my newly-washed loose hair, grateful that for once I was dressed up in visiting-Mum clothes.
Sam looked up, each hand sliding along the handle to top mine, closing into my body and hemming me in between him and the trolley. The protective move brought an involuntary smile to my lips which chased away the jittery nervousness. There was something unsettling about Victoria’s sharp, glittering gaze that raked over me, taking in my flowered cotton dress, chewing it up and spitting it out with supercilious disdain.
‘Victoria.’ He nodded but didn’t say anything else.
‘This all looks very cosy,’ she said, casting a desultory look over the contents of the trolley. ‘And nutritionally delinquent.’ I winced. The contents did look like a couple of five-year-olds had run amok.
‘Don’t you know the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach? The only thing you’re going to do with that lot is give Sam malnutrition. He’s an athlete, you know; you should be cooking fresh vegetables, proteins and wholegrain carbs.’ She sneered. ‘Not looking after him very well, are you?’
After being so polite in the pub the previous week, I didn’t feel like playing nice anymore. It was time she left us alone.
‘Is that my job?’ I clutched my throat in mock horror. ‘Gosh, and here I was thinking I was living in the twenty-first century, an independent woman with a mind of her own and a boyfriend who is perfectly capable of making his own nutritional choices.’
Victoria turned a little pink, and in a lightning-fast change of tack, she softened. Hurt and sadness sugar-coated her face. ‘Sam, are you going to let her speak to me like that?’ Her mouth closed into a heartbroken quivering line. Behind me I felt Sam stiffen.
‘I think the point, as Jess made clear, is that I’m not in charge of her. It’s not up to me to “let” her do anything.’ I turned in surprise, not at his words but at the tone. He sounded angry. Normally he was Mr Nice Guy, his guilt making him be the better man. This was the first time his words had sounded so clipped and forced. ‘I’m done trying to be nice. Leave us alone.’
Like Munch’s scream, Victoria’s face morphed into a harpy-like mask, her mouth a strangled O as her voice pitched and she screeched, ‘You’re done! You’re. Done!’
People were starting to look at us with that avaricious mix of embarrassment and curiosity, some exchanging scared I‐don’t‐want‐to‐get‐too‐close‐to‐this glances with each other and steering their children and trolleys in the opposite direction.
‘Don’t cause a scene, Vic,’ warned Sam, his voice quiet and authoritative as he bumped his body against mine, urging me forward.
‘Don’t you tell me what to do,’ screamed Victoria, her face burning with the sort of incandescent rage that made me imagine her burning up in a column of flames and glowing inhuman eyes like some Marvel superhero.
‘That’s it,’ Sam murmured in my ear and he pushed me forward, walking past Victoria.
‘Don’t you walk away from me. You and that … that … skank.’ She hissed the final word with defiant challenge, lobbing it into the air