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‘You would? Really? Thank you,’ I whisper.
‘Of course! I’ve never been. Plus I hear that the blokes down there are to die for. We’ll both get what we want from this trip – you a family and me some good ol’ Cornish lovin’.’
‘As if you need more men,’ I remind her.
For Maisie, a lonely week is one where she’s only met one or two men, because it’s her life mission to meet at least one handsome or interesting man every single day. And she even manages to do so. How, I swear I don’t know, but I will tell you this: she’s so charming, they all fall at her feet, while she always does all, and I meanall, the leaving.
Up until I met Stephen, my life was the opposite of hers. I did the loving and they did the leaving. But Stephen is different. Granted, he’s not perfect, but, as opposed to all of the blokes I’d met, Stephen is the best. He’s elegant. He’s balanced. He’s strong. Level-tempered, too, and, most of all, completely incapable of surprises, whether good or bad.
*
By Friday afternoon, I’m ready to set off for Cornwall straight from work, my suitcase in the back of my old Ford Focus and waiting for Maisie to appear. We’re staying four nights and will be back to the grind on Tuesday the 15th as Monday is an Induction Day. As I’m waiting for her to come out, I catch sight of Stephen leaning against the main entrance, eyeing me.
‘Are you sure you don’t mind if I don’t come, Emmie?’ he asks as he approaches, hands in his pockets. ‘I mean, you don’t even know this woman.’
Exactly because I don’t know her, I thought it would be nice if he accompanied me. Because that’s what fiancés do, correct? Is not one of their main jobs to meet the family? Apparently, it had been convenient for him that I’d had none until now. All the holidays were spent at his family home – in other words, his mother’s domain. Christmas, Guy Fawkes, May Day bank holiday, August bank holiday – you name it, we were there. And now I have to beg him to come and meet my only living and newly discovered relative?
‘No, uhm, that’s OK, Stephen. Maisie’s coming with me.’
I can’t even describe the relief that floods his face.
‘Oh! Are you sure?’
And he asks menow, just as I’m getting into my car for a five-hour drive?
I sigh inwardly. ‘No worries.’
‘I’ll make it up to you, Emmie,’ he promises.
‘I know.’
Stephen always keeps his promises. But all the same…
‘I’m here, I’m here!’ Maisie calls from the language block, waving her arms like she’s on fire and dragging her own wheelie suitcase with the French flag embossed across the front.
Adorable, dependable Maisie. I can always trust her to save the day.
Stephen barely glances at her. It’s no secret that there’s no love lost between them and that if it weren’t for me running to her defence all the time, she’d be working on the other side of the country. Maisie throws her suitcase in the back next to mine and salutes me in a horrible rendition of a Cornish accent.
‘Cap’n Weaver, I’m proper ready!’
Stephen rolls his eyes as he checks that no one else is around to see, leans forwards and kisses me.
‘And you’re sure you don’t mind?’ he asks for the third time, for Maisie’s benefit.
‘I’m sure. Now go back to work.’
He grins. ‘You’re the best, Emmie.’
The best, I wonder as I wave goodbye, or the least demanding?
‘Tosser,’ Maisie coughs into her shoulder as she pulls her seat belt on.
‘Maisie, do you want to get fired?’ I moan as I pull out of the staff parking bay.
She pops a huge piece of purple bubble gum and starts to chew away like any old Daisy in a field. ‘Has he at least agreed to couples therapy?’
‘As if he’d admit there’s a problem. He says he loves me but he’s just not a fall-head-over-heels man. He likes to stay grounded.’
