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Minnie neatly folded the paper and pressed it down on the counter with both hands. She didn’t want to talk to Greg about Lucy or Quinn.
‘Listen, I have to start moving out of my flat at the weekend. Could you help me? I don’t have much, maybe one car-load.’
Greg tilted his face to a disapproving angle.
‘Just go online and hire a man with a van, they’ll be better at lifting stuff than me.’
‘I don’t want to hire a man with a van, and I can’t afford to. I’m asking you, as my boyfriend, to help me.’
‘Jeez, Minderella, I’ll pay for it then,’ Greg sighed. ‘I don’t want to spend my weekend moving boxes around.’
Minnie heard the inner voice of her sixteen-year-old self let out a silent wail and start beating her fists against the inside of Minnie’s chest. When had Greg ever done something that he didn’t want to do for her sake?
Minnie stared at him as he peered down at Lucy Donohue’s byline on the counter. ‘You’re never going to champion my Invincibility Mode, are you?’ she said quietly.
Greg didn’t move, he was still looking at Lucy’s article. Minnie had ignored Greg’s unchivalrous behaviour for the last time. It she was Minderella, he was definitely not Prince Charming.
‘I think we should break up,’ said Minnie.
‘Huh?’ said Greg, glancing up at her.
‘I don’t think this is going to work between us.’
‘Jeez, I’ll lend you the car, Minnie! You don’t need to be a baby about it.’
‘It’s not about the car, I don’t think we’re right for each other.’
‘And you this second decided that, did you? Five minutes ago we were right for each other, and now we’re not?’ Greg made a ‘pfff’ noise and waved the newspaper at her. ‘Women are so bloody tempestuous.’
‘No, I should have seen it earlier, I’ve been—’
‘It’s not like you’re perfect you know, Minnie,’ Greg said, interrupting her. ‘You think if someone asked me who my ideal woman was, I would paint a picture of you? No, I would paint a picture of Jennifer Aniston circa 2010. No one gets perfection! Reality is someone you fancy despite their shortcomings; reality is accepting that seventy per cent is pretty good going.’ Greg’s voice softened, his mouth twitched into a smile. ‘Look, I might not be perfect, but you have to admit we’re pretty good together? We have the same politics, the same sense of humour – we work, you and me.’
‘I never realised I was settling for seventy per cent, Greg, I guess that’s the difference between us.’
At that point Clive wandered back into the kitchen.
‘I forgot my toast,’ he said, plodding over to the toaster, oblivious to what he’d walked into. ‘I didn’t even pop it down,’ he said, raising his eyes to the ceiling, exasperated at his own forgetfulness. Clive busied himself pulling out plates and cutlery. Minnie watched Greg’s face growing redder by theminute as his eyes followed Clive around the kitchen, willing him to leave.
‘So how’s life, Minnie?’ asked Clive amiably. ‘Business going well, is it?’
‘No, not really,’ said Minnie with a smile. ‘Terribly, in fact.’
‘Oh dear, well at least you’ve got Greg here to cheer you up.’ Clive gave her a double thumbs up. ‘Problem shared is a problem halved and all that.’
‘Actually we just broke up,’ said Minnie.
‘We didn’t break up,’ Greg spat, ‘you were talking about the possibility of breaking up. You haven’t broken up until you’ve both agreed.’ Greg’s hands curled into fists at his sides.
‘I’ve walked into the middle of something,’ said Clive, briskly buttering his toast. Then after a pause he added, ‘Though I’m not sure that’s true, Greg. If Minnie says you’ve broken up, you’ve broken up, I don’t think it needs to be by mutual agreement.’
Minnie nodded.
‘Nobody asked for your legal opinion, Clive!’ Greg shouted. ‘Just take your toast and fuck off.’
Clive drew his lips closed and gave Minnie a wide-eyed sympathetic shrug.
‘Don’t talk to him like that, Greg. I’ll go; there’s nothing more to say anyway.’
