a tiny bird dart in and out of the hedge at the bottom of the garden, that Patrick wasn’t always the sort to bend himself over backwards with new people, but he wasn’t talking shit about people he’d just met in a group text either. Neither Patrick or John were about to win a Miss Congeniality award.
‘It’s a shame we didn’t get to see him, I would have liked to have said hello,’ Lucy said, ever the diplomat. ‘Things are still going well though?’
Happiness blossomed in my belly, smothering any lingering annoyance. ‘Luce, it’s so good,’ I confirmed, a blush rising in my cheeks. ‘Like picking up exactly where we left off. Maybe a few days before we left off, the same but different.’
‘Please don’t start talking about all the amazing sex you’re having or my baby will just fall out,’ she said, holding up a hand to stop me. ‘I can’t bear it.’
‘I wasn’t going to talk about the sex,’ I replied. I was absolutely going to talk about the sex. ‘Everything’s wonderful, not just the shagging. Last night, after we left Good Luck, we snuck into this little locked garden and just lay in the grass and talked and, well, did some other things you don’t want to hear about, but trust me, it was very romantic.’
‘Whatever you do,’ Lucy said with pleading eyes. ‘Do not tell Sumi that story. She will not care for it and you will get punched. I’m glad it’s all going so well though.’
‘There was one weird moment,’ I said, keeping my voice light and my biscuit close. ‘John called Patrick my boyfriend and he got a bit “ooh, let’s not have labels when we’re just starting over”. Felt a bit random.’
‘Hmm.’ She made a noise into her teacup. ‘Well, men can be funny about things like that.’
‘I think he’s trying to protect himself,’ I rationalized on Patrick’s behalf. ‘You know, because of how I left last time.’
‘Hmm.’
‘Luce, men can be victims of the patriarchy too, it’s harder for them to be vulnerable and admit things like that than it is for us,’ I said. ‘You can’t hold every little thing I tell you about our relationship against him forever or I won’t be able to talk to you about anything.’
‘I’m not, I’m really not,’ she replied, rummaging around in the bottom of the biscuit barrel to produce a chocolate Hobnob. ‘But you know I’m contractually obliged to be Team Ros until the end of time. Until we see Patrick on his knees, proclaiming his love for you, preferably in song and with jewellery, we won’t be entirely happy. You know no one will ever be good enough for you as far as we’re concerned, let alone someone who’s already had a really good go at breaking your heart.’
I rolled my eyes but smiled at the same time, reaching across the table to give her hand a squeeze. And nick the chocolate Hobnob.
‘So, apparently Jo is gay now,’ I said as I took a bite. ‘Or bi. Or fluid. I’m not sure which one.’
‘Oh, that’s fun,’ Lucy replied, hunting down another chocolate biscuit. ‘How did she break the news? Instagram announcement? TikTok? I hear the kids are all about TikTok nowadays.’
‘She asked me to ask Mum and Dad if she could bring her girlfriend to their wedding,’ I said as I pressed a finger into a sudden throbbing in my left temple. ‘Which I’m absolutely not doing.’
‘That’ll be delightful,’ Lucy rubbed her hand around and around on her belly. ‘I very much look forward to going into fake labour that morning so I don’t have to be there when your nan hears the happy news.’
‘You’re so lucky,’ I grumbled, looking back up at the bright blue sky. ‘I wish I were pregnant.’
‘No, you don’t,’ she replied. ‘Have you ever had haemorrhoids?’
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I was still suffering from my roller skating injuries and they were quite uncomfortable enough.
‘Time for more tea,’ I said, grabbing the teapot and ignoring her wicked laugh. ‘You stay there.’
She waved me off into her kitchen, staring contentedly out at her patch of the world while I fished around in different jars and tins for teabags.
It really was a lovely house, I thought, admiring the neat paintwork, the carefully restored radiators, the stripped wooden flooring. Lucy had always been good at making things beautiful. Where were all her things? I wondered, hunting for invisible clutter. The contents of my handbag spilled out onto her butcher’s block