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‘He and Minnie have become friends and I doubt he’s ever started a relationship with a friend before. He’s scared of intimacy,’ said Leila.
‘You want my advice?’ asked Claire.
‘The Clares give good advice,’ said Leila, slowly nodding her head.
‘If you kiss a man and he runs a mile, he’s no good. Life is full of times you have to turn towards the storm, and life brings many storms. Sick children, parents dying, cancer, just the challenge of building a life together and not driving each other completely nuts. You need a man who’ll turn into the storm with you when it comes, doesn’t she, Clare?’ said Claire, as she pulled Fleur’s hair into rollers.
‘She’s right. When life gets stormy, a man afraid of commitment will be off in a flash, looking for calmer shores with some flibbertigibbet called Kimberley,’ said Clare. ‘He won’t be up in the night when you’ve got a bubba to feed; he won’t be at your bedside after a double mastectomy.’ Clare paused, leaning over to pat Claire’s hand as she worked, ‘Yourbest friend will be there.’ A look of deep understanding passed between them.
Minnie watched this moment between the two older women. She wondered if she and Leila would still be friends when they were that age. Maybe this was the important thing; maybe this was the love that truly endured.
‘And if he asks you to bleach your love glove, he’s a miscreant to boot,’ said Clare, tapping two fingers against her pubic bone. Then Fleur sprayed a mouthful of tea across the room and slapped a hand over her mouth, which broke the sombre tone and made everyone laugh.
Minnie moved the conversation away from men and onto Leila’s wedding. Part of her knew they were right, but another part, perhaps it was the ever-hopeful owls, wanted to go swimming tomorrow and find him there, and all would be as it had been before.
Once the Clares had set Fleur and Bev in rollers, it was Minnie and Leila’s turn to have their hair styled.
‘So, when’s the big day, Leila?’ asked Claire.
‘Thirtieth of December,’ said Leila with a sigh.
‘Oh. Well that’s … unusual.’
‘We wanted New Year’s Eve but my maid of honour is superstitious about that date so we had to shift it twenty-four hours,’ said Leila.
‘That is not the reason,’ Minnie said, talking to her friend in the reflection. ‘They couldn’t afford New Year’s Eve and they got a great deal on the thirtieth. No one else is having a big party the night before New Year’s Eve.’
‘Andyou wouldn’t have come if it was New Year’s Eve,’ said Leila.
‘But mainly you got a good deal,’ said Minnie.
‘Plus you wouldn’t have come.’
‘But mainly the deal.’
‘And you wouldn’t have come.’
‘The deal.’
‘You.’
‘The deal.’
Minnie’s phone started to ring, which saved the discussion from escalating further. It was her mother.
‘Hi Mum.’
‘Minnie, now, I’m at Tara’s house,’ she said. ‘I’m setting Tara up on a blog page, she wants to write about gardening for anxiety, but I’m struggling to work out this site. Do I want a banner? And would the standard design be OK or should we pay for a theme? And how do we get photos of her garden out of the phone and into the website?’
Minnie closed her eyes, overwhelmed by the barrage of questions.
‘I’m not an expert on blogs, I’m afraid,’ she said. ‘Oh wait, I’m with Fleur, she’ll know.’ Minnie covered the receiver and held out the phone to Fleur. ‘Will you talk to my mum about setting up a blog?’
Fleur clicked her fingers, then pushed up the giant pink cylindrical heater she was sitting beneath and took the phone from Minnie. ‘I swear that thing is frying my brain. Hi Connie, yes – what do you need?’
A very confusing conversation followed, where Fleur attempted to talk Minnie’s mother through the options she needed to click, screen by screen. In the end Fleur had to give up.
‘Listen, you’re just in Primrose Hill, aren’t you? We’re all in Chalk Farm at some weird hairdresser’s. I can just nip down there when we’re done, it will take me two seconds to set this up for you if I can see the screen … yes, we can all come … sounds good … I’ll tell Minnie.’
