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Thx,
Vince.
PS – was Gail @ the Summer-Ween party?
*
From: Millie Chandler
To: Alexis Lee
Subject: Fwd: Your treehouse stay
Just a reminder of our treehouse stay. I’ve booked us all on. You, me and Cate. Please come. I miss you so much.
*
On Friday, Cate and I walk to work together. Her stomach cramps have stuck around, and she spent all of yesterday, stuffed upstairs in her bed sleeping, with Ralph and me delivering hot drinks and hot water bottles to her door every few hours. She’s now changed her theory, and thinks she must’ve eaten something off, rather than hormonal cramps, and Ralph has it in his head that it’s his fault. That she’s accidentally eaten one of his exotic mushrooms, or that she might be allergic to something he put in their lunches last week. (Ralph has taken to making Cate’s lunches, and she, his, on alternate days. It’s adorable.) Cate emerged this morning, thinner and tired, but determined to go to work, and I’ve used the walk to regale her about my night with Jack and the rhubarb farm. (For the second time. She insisted on hearing as much as she could in tiny capsules yesterday, in between naps.)
Cate knocks back two paracetamol like they’re smarties, without so much as a wince. ‘I am telling you Millie,’ she says, crunching. ‘This is the most romantic shit I’ve ever heard. Anyone can do a candlelit dinner. Some factory-made one-size-fits-all romantic gesture, but this was so thought-out. Sospecial.’
‘I know.And God, Cate, he is such a good kisser.’
‘I knew he would be,’ Cate says, musically. ‘Like, you can justtell, you know?’
‘We just .?.?. wandered around this big, beautiful, gnarly greenhouse with candles, talking, and laughing, and then he .?.?. just drove me home at midnight. Like it was nothing. Like I’d not just had the most beautiful night of my life. We kissed again in the car. I think we were outside in the car park for a whole hour. His windows actuallysteamed up.’
‘In total Jack and Rose style!’ Cate squeaks, unscrewing the lid of her scotty-dog patterned water bottle. ‘Oh, Millie. I’m so happy for you.’ She chugs.
‘And it was simple, you know?’ I carry on. ‘Like, of course it wasexciting, and I fancy him so much, but it’s .?.?.simple.’ The opposite of anything I’ve experienced really. How things were with Owen – stillarewith Owen, in a way. Confusing. Hard work. Conditional.Serious.And yet, this, with Jack. It just feels easy. Easy and at the same time, just about the most exciting thing I’ve ever felt.
We cross over, enter ever-busy Progress Road. A man unloading huge snake-like vent tubes from the back of a van sings along to a radio, and shouts, ‘Tune!’ to his passenger, who, halfway through a McMuffin, holds it high and says, ‘Tune!’
The sky is low and heavy today, but from behind the clouds, sunlight cracks through. It’s morphed seamlessly, from autumn to early winter, as if someone turned over a page of the world’s calendar as we all slept; shook us all up, like a snow-globe. And I like winter in some ways. Not so much the head colds and the scheduled, rehearsed stress of Christmas, but I like the cleansing element of it. The crisp, clean air. The glow of lamps behind drawn curtains at night, as I drive home, wondering which homes await me in the future, all the places I’ve yet to visit. I love the way a new flawless year, looms in the distance, too, like a fresh, unwritten-in notebook. I hope the weather isn’ttoowintry this evening, though, for our overnight treehouse stay – especially given that it’s Bonfire Night and we might have a perfect view of nearby firework displays if it isn’t absolutely pissing down. Cate and I have made a loose plan for the evening, and I’m hoping, somehow, that Alexis turns up. An olive branch, up in the trees. A fire roaring, time and space to reallytalk.This is the longest Alexis and I have ever gone without speaking, and it’s starting to feel like we might never again. If she doesn’t get in touch soon, maybe Iwilljust – go there? Drive to her dad’s house. But then, do I really want to bring a friendship-in-tatters to her home? Her dad, Salv, is seventy-five now. He’s alone all day, while Alexis and her sister work. But then, maybe I won’t have to think about that. Maybe Alexis will be very Alexis Lee, and just show up tonight: explode into the deck of the treehouse, all smiles and, ‘Hello, girls.’
‘I think you trust him,’ continues Cate next to me. ‘Jack. I’ve been thinking about this, from my death-bed the last few days.’ Cate flashes a tired, sarcastic smile. ‘And I think it’s as simple as that. You trust him.’
‘You’re right,’ I agree, with a smile. ‘I do.And he makes me feel safe.’
Cate stops on the pavement, delicate hand at her giant, peach-coloured scarf. ‘Why can I feel a but coming?’ she asks. ‘I can, can’t I? I bloody hate buts.’
I groan. ‘He’s leaving Cate. Next week is his actual leaving party.’
Cate smiles sadly, two dots prodding the corners of her mouth. ‘I know,’ she says. ‘I know.’ And we start walking again. ‘But I thought we talked about this. You deserve it, Millie, for what it is. For so long, you were so sad and –small, you know? Too scared after Owen, to, I don’t know, put yourself out there. A little .?.?. like me? And I get it. God, do I get it. It just happens, doesn’t it? That slow withdraw.’ Cate reaches out then, touches my arm with a gentle, gloved hand. ‘But, Jesus, please. It can just .?.?. be what it is. I know we’re all about future-proofing and “must do the right non-scary thing” but look where that got me with Nicholas. Putting up with shit I didn’t need to and felt miserable about for so long. All in the name of “what you’re supposed to do”.’ Cate adjusts her handbag and looks up at the sky, a smile on her face, as if seeing something I can’t. ‘Why can’t you just – let this be your moment?’ That story you tell one day. Of the seed that was seeding away, like Ralph says, and grew the lovely little story of beautiful Jack, who kissed you like you’ve never been kissed before, made you feel everything all at once, in a whirlwind, before he gave you that dramatic goodbye and effed off into this gorgeous, massive world. You can—’
We stop to let a loud, rumbling motorbike cross our paths into a plumbing merchants. A cut, right in the middle of Cate’s romantic monologue. A teddy bear is strapped to the front of it, with blue rope, like in one of those old classic train movies, and we both laugh.
‘Look, all I’m saying is that: you can .?.?. have that,’ Cate continues. ‘Seriously. Remember how nice it was just to fancy someone? Go on dates and just see how it goes?’
‘You’re right,’ I say. ‘I know you’re right. You’re always bloody right.’
Cate rubs my arm with a leather-gloved hand. ‘And you know what? Enjoy it. The risk of it. Getting roughed up a bit. In more ways than one.’ She grins.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And know that your old cramped up bestie is so jealous, she might die,’ says Cate. ‘That’s if my stomach doesn’t kill me first, which feels quite likely today. ’
‘Whatisgoing on with your stomach?’
