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‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ she replies. ‘I shall be encouraging mine to revise.’
‘Well, good luck,’ I tell her as I stand up. ‘And if we don’t see you, have a lovely Christmas.’
‘Yes, and give our love to Patricia and the baby,’ Angie adds politely.
Once we’re out in the corridor, away from prying ears, Angie hooks her arm with mine.
‘Have you seen photos of Patricia’s baby?’ she asks. ‘It looks like an egg with blusher on.’
I laugh.
‘You’re going to have to start talking more maternal than that, if you expect me to have a baby with you,’ I point out. ‘And you’ll have to get Bill on board.’
‘Well, if I know Bill, and I like to think I do, given that I married him, I can say with confidence that the idea of the two of us trying for a baby is something he wouldn’t object to,’ she jokes.
I snort. That one caught me off guard.
‘Oh, my God, Angie!’
‘Seriously, that man’s browser history would have made Hugh Heffner blush,’ she adds. ‘Another perk of not having to live with a man, there you go.’
‘It’s starting to seem like a long list,’ I say with a smile. ‘Thanks.’
‘Are you sure you won’t come on holiday with us?’ Angie says again. ‘It really isn’t too late, there’s room in the lodge – I’ll even share a room with you, Bill can have ours – again, he’ll be delighted.’
I laugh.
‘Thanks for being such a brilliant friend,’ I tell her, squeezing her arm. ‘But, honestly, I’ve never been more excited to have clear calendar and an almost empty house.’
‘Well, okay, then,’ she replies. ‘Perhaps we can have a girls’ weekend away, in the new year?’
‘I’d love that,’ I say with a smile.
‘Ooh, you don’t still use Matcher, do you?’ Angie asks enthusiastically.
I pull a face.
‘I think I still have it on my phone, but I have to be feeling pretty existential to venture onto dating apps,’ I reply. ‘Sometimes I get a notification – but not from a person, from the app, trying to encourage me to use it. I usually log in, start up a couple of conversations, someone fast says something that reminds me why I’m much happier being single, and then I close it again.’
‘You know Catrin, my classroom assistant? She’s obsessed with dating apps – to the point where I can’t imagine her ever having a boyfriend, because she enjoys the process too much. Anyway, she was telling me about this thing they’re doing for the festive period, where users submit events, and it creates this calendar of stuff for singles to do, so if you get really bored with us all being away, perhaps you could give that a go.’
‘I don’t think I’m that desperate yet,’ I reply through a chuckle. ‘That sounds like a nightmare.’
‘Yeah, I suppose you’re right,’ she replies.
I know it might seem sad but, honestly, I am genuinely looking forward to a nice, quiet Christmas in my finished house, just relaxing and appreciating all my hard work. And Angie is right, I probably will enjoy having my mum around, so long as she doesn’t actually expect me to go out on the pull with her.
I just need to get through this last afternoon and then quiet Christmas can begin. Perhaps my luck is finally about to change. It may not be the Christmas I thought I was going to be having until recently, but I honestly can’t wait. Just me, Mum, and the house. No men needed. Let’s just hope she agrees.
3
It’s bloody freezing out this evening, so I only stand on my driveway, admiring my house, for a moment.
I remember the first time Declan and I viewed the place, standing out here, gazing up at it. I couldn’t get over how wide it was, it seemed massive. Even if it was a tired, ugly red brick thing, I could see the potential in it. It doesn’t even resemble its former self now, since I’ve had the garden landscaped, fitted with contemporary lighting, and having the house rendered and painted white has made all the difference. What stands before me now is a sleek, modern house – something I never would have been able to afford had I bought it already renovated. It took years of saving, the money my grandad left me when he died, and a lot of hard work, but I finally feel like now I have my dream house.
The light from inside beams through the white wooden venetian blinds I have in all the windows. The warm glow spills out into the garden, dragging me inside. I have to admit, it is nice coming home from work on a cold, dark evening, to be greeted by a house with someone in it, with the lights shining, the heating on – and now that I’m inside, the smell of something cooking filling my nostrils. Perhaps I could get used to this.
Inside the hallway, I have a large floor-to-ceiling mirror with a shelf that sits halfway across it. I drop my key in the jar and take my coat and shoes off before placing them in the cupboard. I never used to be so organised and tidy. In the flat I was living in before, I felt like I was always in a mess. I always seemed to have a floordrobe on the go, where I would pick up and drop off clothes in a hurry on a morning and an evening, and I would let dishes pile up in the sink sometimes – but, in my defence, we didn’t have a dishwasher, and you forget just how big a part of your day washing dishes actually takes (although that could be a by-product of letting them pile up first). Declan never really did much about the place, even though he had lots of free time, which was infuriating. I try not to read too much into things (although I so often do anyway) but in hindsight, his general attitude, lack of care and attention, and unwillingness to work as a team with me should have signposted the fact that he was going to abandon me.
