‘A carvery? I’ve never heard of that word … Is this like a googly?’
‘It’sGoogle. And a carvery is a serve-yourself meal of meat, potatoes and vegetables. Like a buffet.’
The barman, a moustachioed guy covered in tattoos smiles at us in greeting. ‘What can I get you?’
‘An orange juice, please.’
‘Bourbon. Rocks. Thanks.’
‘And two carvery lunches.’
When we sit down in a cosy back booth, I take a sip of myorange juice, wincing as I realise the bartender has accidentally given me pineapple juice, which I hate more than most other liquids that exist.
‘Something wrong?’ River asks.
‘No, no! No. Just a little accidental pineapple juice. No big deal.’
‘You look like you’re about to throw up. Should I take it back?’
‘Dear God, no.’ I wriggle uncomfortably at the mere thought. ‘I don’t want to make a fuss.’
River throws me a look. ‘Make a fuss? But he got your order wrong.’
‘Yeah, but he didn’t mean to,’ I say. ‘It’s fine.’ I take another sip, shuddering as it goes down. ‘If I take it back he’ll just feel bad and I don’t want him to feel bad. No worries!’
‘No worries? Wow.’ River leans back in his seat and takes a long slow sip of his bourbon. ‘Not to be an armchair psychologist, Gertie, and I know you “pride yourself on your politeness”, but that’s some pretty hefty people-pleasing behaviour right there.’
I sniff. People-pleasing. Josie said that to me once and I tell River exactly what I told her.
‘If pleasing other people in this crazy world is wrong then I don’t want to be right. Maybe you should try it sometime …’
‘You did it in the store earlier too,’ River muses. ‘When the cash register assistant asked if you wanted to sign up for the newsletter, you said yes, although it was plain on your face that you didn’t want to.’
I shrug a shoulder. ‘She said she makes a commission with every new sign-up. No skin off my nose.’
‘And your neighbour. All those hats you bought from her. You really wanted all of those hats?’
‘Yes! Of course!’
‘You wouldn’t say those hats are … ugly?’
‘No.’ I lift my chin. ‘I love those hats. Those hats are …stunning.’
River nods. ‘Hmmm. And … is this how you act with Henry?’
‘What?’
‘All pliable. Folding yourself up, quieting down for the sake of “being polite”?’ He says ‘being polite’ in a weird syrupy voice.
I think about all the plans I cancelled if they didn’t align with Henry’s diary. Or how I always said sorry first if we had a disagreement, just so we could go back to normal as soon as possible, even if I wasn’t technically in the wrong. Or the time we watched three seasons ofNarcosone after the other even though I found it boring, but it was his favourite and he liked cuddling me while he watched it. But that was just me being a nice girlfriend. Patient.Romantic.
‘Even if it is how I act with Henry, why is that such a bad thing?’
River picks up a beer mat and flips it over again and again, the size of his big workman’s hands making it look like a doll’s house miniature. ‘Just gathering more intel for our operation, is all. Like you say, it’s probably gonna take more than a hot dress to win back a man ascerebralas Henry.’
‘Henry actually loved that I was so polite and easy-going. He literally once said “I love how low maintenance you are, Gertie”.’
‘Low maintenance?’ River echoes sardonically. ‘What a compliment.’
