Elise closed her eyes and gave a little shudder. ‘Don’t even go there,’ she muttered. ‘All I can say is that, when faced with a mother-in-law like mine, it’s a good idea to pick your battles. Are you all set?’
During the five-minute drive from Elise’s house to Mum and Dad’s, I tried to explore what she meant, but she just sighed and said, ‘It’s a long story and not a very interesting one. Once you’re all settled and the shop’s opened and doing well, we’ll go out for cocktails and I’ll tell you everything. For now, I’m more interested in you and this online dating idea. Are you going to register tonight or not? There’ll always be excuses buttheSteven’s out there and procrastinating isn’t going to help you find him.’
I blew on a mug of tea as I sat at the dressing table in my old bedroom and stared at my laptop screen two hours later. Bowing to peer pressure, I’d found an article on the ten best dating sites, which helped narrow it down although my mind was still in a whirr. Which site? And, even before that, did I really want to go down the online dating route? I knew the stargazer lilies fantasy was something that would only happen in the movies, but I still preferred the romantic ideal oftheSteven appearing out of the blue rather than finding him online. I also knew that Clare was right, though; I would tie myself into knots waiting for him to appear, jumping every time I heard someone say the name ‘Steven’. Would I tie myself in knots any less if I registered with an online dating site? What if I messaged half a dozen Stevens and none of them responded? Would making contact and having it ignored be worse than just not knowing whentheSteven would walk into my life?Argh!!!My head hurt just thinking about it.
I clicked onto my emails instead. There was one from Andy with the intriguing subject line of, ‘Have I Got BIG News For You’. My stomach did a flip. Even after all these years of just being friends, I still had a physical reaction each time I heard from him.
Andy Kerr had lived in the same halls of residence as Clare and me in our first year. We were friends at first but I found myself increasingly attracted to him as the first term progressed. I had no idea whether he felt the same until he steered me towards a bunch of mistletoe dangling from the ceiling at the Christmas Ball. We were inseparable for the last week of term but I was worried a month apart over the Christmas holidays would be too much. He’d returned home to Bournemouth and we’d both lined up part-time jobs so meeting up over the break wasn’t an option. Fortunately, it turned out that absence really did make the heart grow fonder and, as soon as we got back in January, we officially became a couple, very much in love.
I hesitated before I opened Andy’s email message. What if the news was that he’d finally proposed to Kelly after a two-year on-offrelationship or he was going to be a daddy? My hand shook slightly as I clicked on the message.
Hi Sarah
Sorry it’s been a few months. How’s it going? How’s work? How’s Jason? Just a quickie to ask whether you’re free any time mid-December. My contract in Dubai is finally at an end and I return to the UK for good around then. I’m dying to see you again. Can I take you out for a meal and catch up on all your news? Let me know a date that suits you around all the office Christmas parties etc.
All the best
Andy xx
Hmm. No mention of Kelly or impending fatherhood. Phew.
Hi Andy
Good to hear from you. Great news about your return to the UK. Is Kelly coming back too? No work Christmas parties for me – I’ve left work! But I’ve also left London. I’m living back home and have taken over Auntie Kay’s shop. I’m re-opening at the end of November and I’m expecting December to fly by in a blur. I’m afraid there’s no chance of me coming to London, but if you ever fancy a trip to North Yorkshire…
Sarah xx
From Andy:
Here was me thinking I was about to go through a major upheaval leaving Dubai after three years but I think you’ve just trumped me! Kelly’s staying in Dubai. Has Jason moved with you?
To Andy:
Jason and I have split up
From Andy:
Sorry to hear that. Hope you’re not too upset. Good luck with the shop opening. I’ll get in touch when I’m back and we’ll find a way to catch up properly. Take care x
I smiled as I logged off my laptop. I always felt warm and fuzzy with nostalgia after hearing from Andy, even if it was only a brief email exchange. I reached behind the dressing table to draw the curtains, pausing to stare for a moment into the inky blackness. The wind had picked up and the sounds of the approaching storm echoed round my bedroom: a garden gate crashing, a dog barking, trees creaking. I shivered. Storms weren’t my friend. They transported me immediately back to Uncle Alan’s flat and the flash of lightning that revealed his decomposing body. Another storm had raged on the night of his funeral. I could vividly remember backing myself into a corner of my room after he was cremated, clutching onto Mr Pink, and sobbing for Uncle Alan’s lonely soul.
Why had Mum and Dad gone out tonight of all nights? I didn’t want to be alone.I leapt as a burst of rain pelted the window. Yanking the curtains shut, I dived under the duvet fully dressed, curled up in a foetus position, and hugged Mr Pink tightly, willing the storm to end.
Think nice thoughts. Think about Andy and the good times we had.But a storm had also raged the night that our relationship ended and, as my bedroom lit up with lightning and the thunder crashed, I felt the pain of goodbye all over again.
Andy was my first in every sense of the word and I really believed I’d found The One. Our three years together at university were so happy and after graduation we jetted off for a week’s holiday in Rhodes. It was an incredibly romantic week, but also an emotional one as we prepared to face our toughest challenge yet: embarking on our new careers two hundred miles apart. I’d secured a job in Manchester but Andy’s job was in London. We knew it wouldn’t be easy but we’d already experienced the challenges of adistance relationship each university holiday when we both returned home to our families. Having survived that greater distance, we were confident that London to Manchester wouldn’t tear us apart.
The first few weeks were fine. We’d already decided we wouldn’t meet up as we had new homes and jobs to settle into and new friends to make. We spoke regularly on the phone and talked about how much we loved and missed each other.
Then things changed. Andy began sounding irritated each time I phoned. He only managed the occasional one-sentence email in reply to the reams I’d write to him, saying he was too busy with work to write more. We made arrangements to meet on three occasions and, each time, he cancelled.
I started to wonder if he’d met someone else. Once the idea popped into my head, I couldn’t shake it. After the third cancelled weekend, I caught the train to London anyway. I phoned Andy from outside his office, desperately hoping he was there and not out with my replacement. It was half eight on a Friday evening but he was still at the office. Feeling relieved – but scared as he didn’t sound at all pleased to hear that I was outside – I asked him to come down for ten minutes. The cold look he gave me as he burst through the revolving doors was a far cry from the emotional reunion I’d imagined on the train down. I’d naively thought that, if I could just see him, everything would slot into place.
I asked if we could go for a meal and talk. He refused. ‘I told you I was busy, so I don’t know what you’re playing at by coming here and making a scene.’
‘I’m not making a scene,’ I protested. ‘I was worried about you.’ I reached out to take his hand but he took a step back.
I saw his eyes flick to the overnight bag beside me on the step. He sighed then reached in his pocket, pulled out his keys and dangled them in front of me. ‘I hope you’ve got a good book in there because you’re going to have to entertain yourself all weekend. I told you I was busy. I’m working. We’re at a critical stage in this project. It’s more important than…’
