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‘That’s different,’ he argues.
‘Why? Why is it different?’ I challenge. ‘Why is it OK for you not to be accepted but the minuteIpull away, it’s not OK?’
‘Because you’re a sociable girl, Emmie. You have so much to give.’
‘And you? Apparently you used to have lots of friends.’
‘Used tobeing the operative word.’
‘Would you like to tell me what happened?’ I ask.
‘Not really.’
‘Would you like to hear what happened to me?’
‘I have a funny feeling you’re going to tell me anyway.’
‘Ha! No one says that anymore.’
He snorts. ‘No one does a lot of things anymore, either.’
‘Such as?’
He sighs. ‘Living. Loving. Being happy.’
‘Wow! That’s profound even for you.’
‘Just tell me what happened to you, Emmie.’
And so I do. I tell him about my grandmother not giving a toss about me. I tell him about Audrey who was only kind to me when she heard of the inheritance. And finally I tell him about Stephen. Because sometimes, the person who cares about you least is the one to give you a right kick up the arse.
In the space of one day, I’ve definitively lost my only family member and at the same time realised that my dream with Stephen was only mine. I have absolutely nothing left to lose now. The money comes and goes.
‘Maybe you should do nothing. About any of it,’ he suggests.
‘What do you mean?’
He shrugs. ‘Think about all the hours we waste worrying about things that we can’t control. Is it worth it? Maybe your grandmother and your fiancé should make the next move. Maybe you’ve done enough. See what they do.’
Hmm. Such a simple idea. And yet, genius.
‘Like President Kennedy ignoring Khrushchev’s ultimatum?’
He grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘Exactly.’
‘I will, thank you, Jago.’
He grins wryly. ‘It’s nothin’.’
I get to my feet. ‘I have some errands to run for my grandmother,’ I explain.
‘Careful she doesn’t run you into the ground,’ he warns as I head towards the village.
*
In effect, my entire afternoon is spent running rings around the village taking care of errands for the lady of the manor. She’s got it down to a fine art, indeed, making sure every aspect of her life is taken care of. I’ve got a long list of things to do, which takes me around Starry Cove at least four times as her medical prescriptions need filling out as well as sorting her particular shopping list, which includes food that I’ll never be able to afford. Who the hell buys caviar by the crate? And oceans of champagne? Is she for real?
As I slog past The Rolling Scones, I can see the soft glow of the Christmas lights from within. Outside, the cold bites at my skin. But inside, there are young families with their children and hot cups of coffee and tea and cake. There are also young couples holding hands and elderly ones chatting quietly. Not a single person in there is on their own. What I wouldn’t do to park my own arse there, with a huge, noisy, dysfunctional family to call my own, and wash down a slice of cake with a cup of their celestial coffee. And listen to the recorded carols playing on a loop. I wouldn’t ask for more. But instead I’ve got a quasi-fiancé who pooh-poohs every idea that crosses my mind, a nana who can’t bear the sight of me and an empty, un-festive London flat.
