‘Oh fuck, Kate,’ she replies. ‘How? Why? Did he ask you to get a dog, too?’
As I laugh, a huge snot bubble appears. Totally worth it.
‘We’re just on different paths,’ I manage to say. ‘He wants the whole kids and marriage thing and I want—’
‘A life of debauchery and endless cock?’ she replies. ‘No, wait. A meaningless existence where you eventually die alone leaving only a legacy of bitterness and regret?’
‘Jesus,’ I say. ‘Way to make a girl feel good.’
‘Well, what is it, then?’ she presses.
I feel like I’ve genuinely insulted her. I know she adores Ed but I’m her best mate, not him.
‘I’m not even sure,’ I reply. ‘I just want something more than being a wife and a mother.’
‘Hmm,’ she replies. ‘That’s pretty disrespectful to wives and mothers.’
‘Oh,’ I say. ‘I mean, I didn’t—’
‘Shut up,’ she laughs. ‘I get it. You don’t want to play Suzie Homemaker with a couple of kids under your feet. You want to see the world. Experience life.’
‘Exactly!’ I reply. ‘That’s exactly it.’
‘Brilliant!’ she exclaims. ‘Now let me just email every single successful wife and mother on my books. You know, the ones who have homes in Paris, whose kids are so fucking cool and well adjusted, it makes me sick. Who have happy marriages to men that—’
‘Fine!’ I yell over her. ‘I get it, I get it. Fuck, why did I even call you? You don’t even like dogs.’
‘All I’m saying is don’t discount an entire life you’ve never experienced. If you really don’t want marriage and kids, I totally support this. But if it’s purely because you think they represent some kind of barrier, preventing you becoming the next Beyoncé of the law world or whatever, then that’s just silly.’
‘Beyoncé? Really?’
‘You know what I mean,’ she says, laughing. ‘Anyway, I’m off. Enjoy your last Christmas as a spoken-for woman. You’ll be shunned by society by the time you get home.’
She hangs up and I just stare at my mobile, unsure whether that actually helped or not.
‘You forgot your gloves.’
‘Fuck!’ I yelp, nearly lifting off my seat. ‘You scared the shit out of me.’
Ed grins, though he does his best to conceal it. ‘That’ll happen around graveyards.’ He hands me my gloves and I stuff them into my pocket, along with my phone.
‘I thought I lost them at the cavern,’ I reply. ‘How did you know I’d be here?’
‘Wild guess,’ he answers, sitting down beside me. ‘Maybe because this is where we used to come and smoke.’
‘Where I used to smoke,’ I correct. ‘You just used to have a drag and turn green.’
His mouth smirks but his eyes stay glued to my ciggy. ‘Thought you’d given up.’
I shrug. ‘Desperate times and all that. And don’t go smoke-shaming me. I’m not in the mood.’
He sits back and puts his hands in his pockets. ‘Do you remember when we used to sneak into the cemetery during the summer?’
I nod. ‘How could I forget? Definitely the weirdest place I’ve ever been felt up.’
He laughs. ‘There’d be little groups of us, all dotted around, hidden by gravestones.’
A wave of nostalgia nearly knocks me off my seat. The smell of the summer-night air, the risk of being caught and the thrill of being sixteen and kissing like your life depends on it. But now here we are, almost fifteen years later and the thrill has gone.
