Frank was settling back into his role with ease, pacing around the office like a prison guard while we tried our best to ignore him.
‘Phoebe, that bar advert you ran last month – are they doing anything else with us? They paid a decent rate.’
I placed my hand over the mouthpiece on my phone, asking Helen from the council to hang on a second.
What I really wanted to say was:He’s messing with me, Frank, because I made the mistake of sleeping with him years ago. Now I’m stuck having to deal with yet another prick who’s decided to reappear in my life. Like you.
‘I’m due to see him,’ I replied, wondering why the fuck he couldn’t wait until I’d finished my call. ‘He cancelled on me last time – I’ll chase him up.’
Frank continued pacing while I scowled behind his back and got back to my conversation. I glanced over at Lucy, who was smirking. She’s never going to let me forget that she knows.
Oliver had already picked Molly up from Maggie’s, who apparently laughed too hard at one of his jokes and embarrassed them both. He’s not advertising the fact that he’s trying to make things up to me but I can tell; little things like flowers randomly appearing in the living room, my favourite overpriced biscuits showing up in the cupboard, or his dirty clothes making their way to the washing machine . . . maybe not the grand gesture I demanded, but it’s a good start.
Friday May 5th
Oliver took the afternoon off today but we kept Molly’s afternoon session with Maggie so we could go and see Pam. I swear, this woman must be making a fortune from idiots like us.
Dressed in a tartan skirt and pink heels, she welcomed us into a room that today smelled like coconuts. I wondered whether she’s started early on the Malibu.
We both refused tea, but Oliver accepted water, nervously sipping as we began.
‘How are you feeling, Phoebe?’ she asked, settling into her chair.
‘Well . . .’ I said, ‘the last week has been tough but we’ve talked and I don’t see why we can’t move past this.’
She nodded as I heard Oliver give a quick sigh of relief. ‘Fine,’ she continued. ‘And Oliver? How have you been?’
‘Ashamed,’ he replied, rubbing his forehead. ‘And sorry. Just really, really sorry.’
She didn’t allow him to dwell on it too much, but explained our next steps.
‘The best way forward is for you to acknowledge what’s happened and for Phoebe to know that you are still very much focused on the relationship. And in turn, Phoebe, it’s important that Oliver recognises and understands that he hurt you but also that he knows you’re not going to let this define the rest of your relationship.’
Bloody hell, she might have been on the Malibu, but Pam was in sensible mode here. Nothing quirky, nothing odd. She might have well been wearing a suit and renting a proper office.
‘I know we’ve already covered music in our sessions, so I won’t ask you to compile another list, but each of you take a moment, right now, and choose a song; let’s call it a goal song. The song that defines how you feel about love. A song you’d play your partner to show each other you’re deeply committed. Besotted, even. Close your eyes and take a deep breath.’
Oh. There she is. HI, PAM.
Oliver couldn’t help but glance in my direction, no doubt trying not to pick something stupid that would make his disdain for this process obvious. I just closed my eyes, hoping my brain would not instantly be filled with inappropriate songs. It was. First up was ‘The Sound of Silence’, followed by ‘Down Under’, ‘Killing in the Name’ and then ‘Don’t Fear the Reaper’. My eyes shot open and rolled at myself before I took a deep breath and tried again. Jesus, the pressure. People put less thought into their funeral music.
*
Finally Pam gave a little cough to bring us both back to reality.
‘Ready?’
Opening one eye, I peered at Oliver. ‘Yeah. I think so,’ he answered meekly.
‘Phoebe?’
‘“Sweet Disposition”,’ I blurted out. ‘I choose “Sweet Disposition”.’
A smile crept over Oliver’s face. I sing this song loudly in the car . . . and in the shower and well, basically at every opportunity. Last week he joked that The Temper Trap wouldn’t have written it if they’d known the damage I’d do to it with my voice.
‘And why is this?’ Pam questioned.
‘Because it has an urgency to it,’ I gushed. ‘It’s about someone else making you feel completely alive. To me, that’s romantic as hell.’
