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‘The cooking thing?’ I repeat back to him.
‘There’s another event this evening,’ he explains. ‘Some kind of cooking class/competition. It’s not my usual scene but I thought it might be fun.’
‘Are you going to many of these events?’ I ask curiously.
‘Only the ones I fancy,’ he replies. ‘You?’
‘Same,’ I reply. ‘Do you fancy buddying up? It would be good to have someone to go to these things with.’
I instantly regret asking him. He’s not going to agree to saddling himself with a saddo like me, not when he’s on the pull.
‘Buddying up?’ he replies curiously. ‘Like a wingman?’
‘Like a wingwoman,’ I reply.
‘Sure,’ he replies. ‘We can do that. You’ll be surprised how many of these things require a partner. I suppose it’s genius, really – given that we’re all from a dating app. It forces you to partner up.’
‘Well, until the girl of your dreams turns up, you’ve got me,’ I reply. ‘But, until then, I’m going to go and ride out my wave of embarrassment in the shower.’
‘There’s a clean towel on the rail,’ he replies with a smile. ‘Last night was fun, honestly, and you didn’t do anything embarrassing. Fun, yes. Low-key violent, maybe.’
‘Violent?’ I reply.
‘Leila,’ he prompts.
‘Oh, God, I was hoping I’d dreamt that part,’ I insist, placing my head in my hands as the words trigger a memory of a very Billie faux pas. ‘I thought I was stepping on her toes – that’s nothing compared to literally dropping a bowling ball on them.’
‘She was fine,’ Rocco insists. ‘What do you mean you were stepping on her toes?’
‘Oh, nothing,’ I say. ‘Right, bathroom, then home, then cooking later?’
‘That sounds like a good plan to me,’ he replies. ‘I might get an extra fifteen minutes’ shut-eye, if you don’t mind?’
‘No, no, go for it,’ I reply. ‘This is your room – your rooms.’
I head for the bathroom and glance back just as Rocco is getting back into bed, snuggling down into his pillow. I can think of nothing I would love more than to climb in there with him right now – well, not with-him with him. I just mean that I’m knackered and the bed looks so comfortable. I have a comfortable bed at home, though, and thanks to my stupid open-plan house, it’s the only place I can avoid everyone, so a disco nap might be the best course of action.
I have my phone with me, so I peep at my calendar. I’d already put my name down for cooking later. It’s good to know I’ll have a partner. Even if it is one who isn’t remotely interested in me.
12
It’s after midday by the time my taxi pulls up outside my house. Midday on a Monday, what would the neighbours say?
‘Walk of shame?’ Kenny calls out as he checks the post-box at the end of his driveway.
‘Just a normal walk,’ I call back. ‘Just been out for lunch with the girls.’
A lie, but I’m not going to give him the satisfaction.
‘In last night’s dress?’ he replies. ‘I saw you leaving.’
‘What an unhealthy level of obsession to have for a neighbour,’ I tell him, keeping my game face firmly on, but my knotted hair and the ropey remains of my make-up probably tell a different story. ‘Maybe try getting a hobby. Or a girlfriend who doesn’t have a curfew.’
‘You’ll have to let me know where you go out,’ he calls after me as I head for my door. ‘Somewhere where the girls like to stay out all night sounds perfect.’
Oh, how I hate him. I resist shouting anything back because I’m finally at my front door, and what I really need is to get inside, and up to my bedroom, without anyone noticing. The front door opens easy enough, and closes silently too. The biggest problem I’ve got is that, to get to the bottom of the stairs, I have to walk through the hallway, past the open double archway into the living room. Stupid, stupid open-plan house.
I dare to peer round the corner and see Dad sitting in the living room, thankfully facing away from me. I take off my shoes, to make it easier for sneaking, but I pick them up to take them upstairs with me because nothing will give me away like last night’s shoes suddenly discarded in the hallway.
