Before long we’re sitting in the back of a cab, heading towards the Southside.
‘I don’t even know where you live,’ I say as we pass the O2 Academy. ‘Oh, look, Paloma Faith was playing tonight!’
‘Hmm, she’s a little bit crazy for me,’ he remarks. ‘I’m more of a Mumford and Sons man myself; and I’m renting a house in Newlands. For the moment anyway.’
I love Paloma Faith. Mumford and Sons? Oh sweet Jesus.
‘Newlands is lovely!’ I reply overenthusiastically. And by ‘lovely’, I mean ‘expensive’. I wonder what his house is like. I bet it has a conservatory.
The taxi makes its way through the unusually quiet Southside streets, past the local boozers and supermarkets before stopping outside my front door as directed. I offer Tom money for my fare, but he refuses to take it. I make an informed decision not to spend ten minutes stubbornly insisting ‘YOU SHALL NOT FUND MY EXTRAVAGANT LIFESTYLE, SIR!’ and put my purse back in my bag.
‘Well, thanks for a lovely evening.’ I tuck my hair behind my ear and feel rather coy. Which is weird. Last night I was having my dress unzipped by a man I just met, and tonight I’m nervously wondering whether a goodnight kiss is appropriate or even allowed. However, before I have time to deliberate, Tom leans in and kisses my cheek.
‘I’ll call you this week. I had a great night, Cat.’
‘Me too. Speak soon.’
I exit the taxi and wave as he’s driven off towards Newlands. I can still feel his kiss on my cheek and I sigh. Once inside, I let Heisenberg in through the window. He completely blanks me and heads for the kitchen. I follow him through and open a tin of cat food, talking to myself as I spoon it out. Actually, it was a really great night. He’s intelligent, kind and handsome. I leave the obnoxious furry one to feast on his beefy jellied mush and retreat to bed thinking, Maybe calm and composed is exactly what I need.
*
For once, it’s Kerry who wakes me up at the ungodly hour of 10 a.m. on a Sunday.
‘Get up and meet me for lunch. I need to hear everything that’s been going on.’
I sit upright, rubbing my eyes. ‘I would, but I don’t plan on getting dressed today.’
‘Unacceptable. They’re doing Sumo Sundays at Yo Sushi. All you can eat for twenty pounds. You don’t really expect to have liaisons with two different men and think you can just NOT GIVE ME DETAILS.’
‘I would have called you when—’
‘Cat, this is the most exciting thing that’s happened to you in two years. Now put some fucking clothes on and I’ll pick you up at one.’
*
The shopping centre is packed full of people who somehow think it’s normal to be vertical on a Sunday. Kerry has insisted that I don’t utter a word about my shenanigans until we’re sitting at a booth and she’s ordered a spicy tuna and cucumber hand roll. As we wait for a table, she tells me that her boss Jessica was caught shagging the new temp Emma in her Fiat Punto.
‘Everyone is talking about how she’s abused her position of power . . . I’m just shocked that on her salary Jessica only drives a fucking Punto.’
‘I miss working in a really busy place,’ I moan. ‘There’s never any work gossip in my life. I’m either working from home or in that tiny office with those four maniacs. I cannot wait till we all move into the new premises.’
‘Yeah, it’s a good laugh, although I’ve been there nine years and I still don’t know everyone’s name. There’s one guy I speak to every day and I think his name’s Jim, but secretly I call him Prince cos he’s really tiny but you still would.’
‘Good to know.’
Our server is a twenty-something man with a dubious moustache and a blue plastic watch. ‘Can I get you green tea or miso soup?’
I order soup and watch the tiny dishes move past on the conveyor belt. Kerry points out that green tea tastes like shit, and the waiter doesn’t disagree. I grab some ebi nigiri from the belt and reach for the chopsticks.
‘That’s all you ever eat in here.’
‘Not true!’ I protest, snapping the chopsticks in half. ‘I also eat cucumber maki and those dumpling things. I’m just not that crazy about sushi. I’m always starving afterwards.’
‘I’m starving now. Grab me those inari pockets, will you? Fucking hell – look! There’s Karen Stevens. She hasn’t changed much.’
I turn in the direction of Kerry’s glare and see our old high-school classmate briskly walking towards the exit. She’s wearing very high over-the-knee boots that keep slipping on the smooth floor.
‘I wonder if she’s still a gigantic bitch,’ I muse, secretly hoping she’ll fall on her arse. ‘Remember when she brought in those pro-life leaflets to school because Allison Brown had an abortion? Wicked cow.’
