‘I just don’t know if I can handle being in the public eye when I’m already feeling so raw from the break-up. I’ve seen how hard women get roasted online. If I’m photographed with Morrison the trolls will go to town on me. I won’t be pretty enough or I’ll be too old or too thin or too fat, or my outfit will be wrong in some way. I’m already pretty fragile, Rhona. I think maybe it’s for the best if I just keep myself to myself.’ None of it was a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth.
‘Come here.’
Rhona wrapped Netta in a huge, motherly hug and Netta melted into her sparkly shoulder for a moment before Rhona took her by the forearms and looked her straight in the eyes.
‘You’ll get your happy ending, Netta. Before I met Don … Well, let’s just say my dating life wasn’t all sunshine and woodfired pizzas. And listen, the trolls are going to troll because they’re sad little fuckers with nothing better to do. They’re like armpit wrinkles—best ignored. Giving them attention won’t make them go away, it’ll just make you sad. But you shouldn’t let them stop you from having this amazing experience—or the money, for that matter. The trolls, that is. I’m sure your armpits are still lovely.’
Netta raised her eyebrows. ‘Armpit wrinkles?’
‘They’re a thing. Trust me,’ said Rhona with a grimace. ‘And another thing. If you’re looking for a world-class eff you for your ex, being photographed in a designer dress and full hair and make-up with Morrison Maplestone on your arm would be one iconic move.’
Netta laughed and wiped a rogue tear from her left eye. Rhona pulled her close again.
‘Hey!’ shouted Morrison from above. ‘I thoughtIwas your favourite!’
‘Of course you did,’ said Rhona, still holding Netta tight.
‘Let me win you back. Come up and listen to your son play,’ he said. ‘I think you’ll find he’s positively blossomed under my expert guitary guidance.’
Rhona took Netta by the hand. ‘Looks like you’re in for dinneranda show!’ she said, leading her to the stairs.
Chapter Twenty-Two
MO
Rhona shut the door behind Mo and Netta as they left. They hovered on the front step, Mo rubbing his hands together against the cold, their breath making steamy clouds in the night air.
‘I can give you a lift back to the hotel if you’d like?’ he offered. ‘It’s pretty late to be catching the bus.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. No problem at all,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a bit of a drive to get home so an extra twenty minutes is nothing.’
‘That’d be great,’ she said. ‘Thanks, Morrison.’ She wrapped her jacket tight around her body with one hand and fished a knitted hat from her bag with the other, briefly letting the coat go to slide it over her hair.
‘Mo,’ he said. ‘Just call me Mo.’
‘Okay,’ she said with a brief smile. ‘Well, thanks then, Mo.’
‘The car’s just over there.’ Mo pointed his keys at the Jeep and beeped it unlocked. ‘Let’s go.’
He opened the passenger door for Netta and waited for her to get in before closing it and making his way around to the driver’s side. He took a beat before he opened his door, acknowledging the unfamiliar feeling of butterflies smashing around in his belly. He slid into the driver’s seat and pulled the seatbelt across his body, checking that Netta’s was on too before firing the engine. Its throaty rumble seemed even louder than usual in the icy silence.
‘This is nice,’ said Netta, looking around the cabin as they pulled away from the kerb. ‘It suits you.’
‘Oh, thanks,’ he said, pleased. He loved the Jeep. ‘Do you have a car, back home?’
‘Ah, well, I drive a very lovely old 1971 Volkswagen Beetle,’ she said. ‘Cherry red.’
He could hear the smile in her voice. ‘Now that’s cool,’ he said. ‘Do you drive it or push it, mostly?’
‘Ha, ha,’ she said drily. ‘For your information, I only have to push it a couple of times a week. It was my mum’s and I’ll never part with it. Probably when it falls apart, I’ll have the pieces framed and hang them around the house.’
Mo chuckled.
‘Or apartment, I should say,’ she continued. ‘My partner and I broke up just before I left, so it’s back to apartment life for me.’
‘It didn’t have anything to do with you coming here, did it?’ Mo said. ‘The break-up?’
