AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Back at home, I find Poppy in my garden wearing a giant duvet coat. She’s got her laptop resting on a wooden table out there, her trainers propped up on the steps leading to my small lawn as she types.
‘I wasn’t expecting to see you today,’ I call out from the kitchen.
‘The sun came out!’ she cheers. ‘I mean, I know it’s still freezing and we’re only in March but I wanted to get my face in the sun. And I couldn’t work at home because so much as a sniff of sunshine and Adam’s flat becomes a glass inferno.’
I head out to join her.
‘How is Adam?’
Adam is Poppy’s best friend from school. The two of them were so close growing up that when they didn’t get into the same university, she threatened to pull out of higher education full stop. Our mum, who’d never been to uni herself, was very keen for her girls to go and it was only after some stern words from her that Poppy flew the nest at all. When Poppy left London, she moved straight into his flat in Bristol. They’ve been living together ever since.
‘Same old,’ she says, burrowing deeper in the duvet coat. ‘Why he insisted on buying a penthouse in Stokes Croft I’ll never know. The seagulls wake us up at dawn every single morning. The whole thing is made of glass so from spring through to autumn it’s bloody boiling. And he still claims that I don’t know how to stack the dishwasher properly.’
‘That’s because you don’t,’ I say. ‘You could always move out, Pop? Find somewhere of your own?’
‘Christ no.’ She shakes her head. ‘I’m a social being, I need company in the evenings. And Adam has excellent taste in films. And a cleaner.’
Over a decade ago I made the grave mistake of suggesting that Poppy and Adam were actually very much in love, only to be met by an absolute barrage of abuse from my little sister. Some may say that she protested too much but not me, I knew not to push it. I haven’t broached the subject since, even though Adam is clearly devoted to her. I mean, he lets her live with him for a start and she is a terrible pig to share a house with. Clothes and make-up everywhere. Not an organiser in sight. She holds a Romantic Poetry Appreciation Society in his flat once a month and Adam joins in even though he once told me that he has no idea what Lord Byron was harping on about. And he’s the only person on the planet, as far as I can tell, who is actually able to stand up to Poppy when she’s at her most demanding.
But they’re definitely not in love.
‘Did you get the homework in on time?’
‘I did. How’s Joe?’
‘He’s good. I met his mum last night. She made these amazing vegan cookies.’
‘Ooh!’ Poppy jumps up. ‘That’s a big step. Are things getting serious? What’s his mum like? I need to meet this guy properly soon, Soph, because …’
‘Because?’ I prompt.
‘Because … you know.’ She suddenly looks sheepish. ‘Just to double check.’
‘May I remind you that you have already met?’
‘Yes but that was before you two started boning.’
‘Can we please stop calling it that?’
‘I just want to make sure he’s acceptable.’
‘He is extremely acceptable,’ I retort. ‘He’s kind and thoughtful. He returns lost ducklings to their mummy ducks. He applies ice packs to drunken fools when they’ve banged their head. He’s adorable with Lila. I mean, sure, he’s a bit rude sometimes and he has made me paranoid about my tea-making skills but—’
‘You can’t make tea for shit.’
‘But,’ I press on, ‘other than that, he’s lovely.’ I realise with a jolt that I wasn’t making any of that up. I meant it. Joe is surprisingly acceptable after all. Quite annoying at times, of course, but still.
Poppy watches me closely. ‘Hoo boy. Are you smitten already? You sound it!’
I can’t figure out what to say. Joe is actually pretty cool?
‘What’s his mum like?’ Poppy asks.
‘So sweet and funny too. They have a really cute relationship. We haven’t told her that we’re dating just yet,’ I add, remembering what Joe and I discussed. ‘There seems like a lot more at stake when you start dating as a parent. And you know I haven’t told Mum either.’
‘I won’t say anything until you’re ready,’ Poppy says, shading the sun from her eyes.
‘Thank you,’ I say, relieved. ‘It’s—’
