I rub my forehead, hating that tonight has soured so badly and that I’m a bit too pissed to think straight.
‘Can we just call it quits for the night?’ I suggest.
Alice grabs her bag from her seat, her brows still knitted in obvious anger.
‘I think we should call it quits, full stop. Sorry Zach, but I’m done.’
Quiz Night
Alice
I wake up thirsty and blissfully memory-free, but in the few seconds it takes to reach for my glass of water, reminders of what happened last night come flooding back. I definitely wasn’t as pissed as Zach but my brain’s decided to drip feed the flashbacks anyway. Dylan and Zach acting like a pair of teenage idiots. Zach getting incredibly stressed out over what I thought were little things. And then the kicker. Us breaking up.
Last night I pressed eject on the best thing that has happened to me in years.
Too hot and bothered to lie in bed, I kick off the duvet and push my bedroom window open as far as it will go, hoping to let some cool air in but it’s stiflingly hot already. Idly picking my phone up, I try to numb my mind with an Instagram scroll but even social media’s conspiring against me today. The first post I see is from my favourite café, sharing a picture of today’s batch of doughnuts alongside an iced coffee. Zach had suggested we could go there together this morning and I’d teased him for being presumptuous, assuming that he’d get to stay over after our P date. The stark contrast between yesterday, full of excitement for a weekend with my boyfriend, and today, sad, angry and now completely boyfriend bereft, is a painful one.
I need to take my mind off this. There’s only one thing for it.
Twenty minutes later and I’m at the allotment, a satisfying pile of weeds next to me as I work my way through the soil. It’s the kind of thankless task I’ve been putting off for ages but if there was ever a day for weeding, this is it.
‘No handsome helper today?’ ViVi asks, her head popping over the fence as I drop another weed onto the pile.
‘Um …’ The weight of what’s happened threatens to spill over again and I find myself lost for words. I catch ViVi’s eye, her face growing concerned as she watches me, and I realise that mine has crumpled.
‘I’m coming round,’ she says decisively, bustling through the little gate onto my patch. I pull a few more weeds out as ViVi announces she’s making us a brew, before returning from my potting shed with two mugs. She unfolds the deckchairs and motions for me to sit down.
I can feel the sun on my face as I do what I’m told, my fingers exploring the cracks in the mug, my eyes shut tight. I can hear ViVi pottering around and feel comforted by her presence. My mind wanders back to the last time I sat like this in my deckchair, with Zach by my side. He’d listened so patiently as I’d unloaded a whole load of emotional baggage onto him that day.
‘Oh love, you’re crying,’ ViVi says, handing me a hanky.
‘Urgh, sorry,’ I reply, swatting at a tear. ‘I’m not normally a crier. I just split up with my boyfriend.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ she says kindly. ‘You know there is nothing wrong with a good cry. Just get it all out!’
So I do. ViVi sits down next to me while my tea goes cold and the tears stream down my face. Eventually, I blow my nose on her hanky and try a smile. ‘You’re right. I do feel better.’
‘Would you like to chat about it?’
‘Hmm, I’m not sure I can face it right now. I think I’d prefer to bury my head in the sand for a bit longer.’
‘There’s nothing gardening can’t fix,’ she beams. ‘However if you do any more weeding you won’t have any soil left. What about a bit of watering instead?’
‘Will you stay?’ I ask.
‘Of course, love! I’m here all morning. Shall we put some music on and have a little sing along? Though Gerry from two plots down still has my radio, he’s meant to be fixing it but between you and me, I suspect he’s made it worse and now he’s playing for time.’
‘That’s a problem I can solve,’ I smile, heading into the potting shed and firing up my stereo. ‘What do you fancy listening to?’
Ten minutes later, ViVi and I are singing along to some sixties classics. Every now and then she chuckles, recounting a story from the decade, and I listen, happy not to be processing anything more than ViVi’s penchant for beehives and Twiggy eyeliner right now.
The following morning I find Natalie sitting with her legs crossed under her, a laptop resting on her lap, when I walk downstairs.
‘If it isn’t the lesser spotted Alice,’ she says. ‘I haven’t seen you all weekend.’
I slump down next to her. ‘I spent most of yesterday at the allotment and then when I got back I … um, took a Pot Noodle to bed and called it a night.’
‘A Pot Noodle? Couldn’t you have at least upgraded to those Itsu ones you can get from the supermarket?’ Nat nudges me to let me know that she’s joking and then takes a deep breath. ‘So … wallowing in bed with instant noodles, huh? I take it Friday night’s ping pong date didn’t improve after I left?’
