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‘Well, with the café and everything, I’ve realised that I have to start thinking about the future now, and it’s got me wondering. We’re twenty-four, Paul, but it’s like nothing has changed since we were seventeen, in a lot of ways. Are we still going to be doing this when we’re twenty-six, thirty? Is this enough for you? Because I’m not sure it’s enough for me any more.’
There is a long pause before he speaks.
‘I think I see what this is,’ he says, simply.
‘Go on.’
‘When we first got together, Mum took me to one side. She’s wise, my mum, as you know. She said, “Paul, I think it’s lovely what you and Daisy have, but you have to understand that she’s in a lot of pain at the moment. One day, the pain will ease for her and she’ll be ready to move on, but then you’ll become a constant reminder of the time when she was hurting, and she may not have room for you in her new life. You have to be ready to let her go when that day comes.” Is that what this is? All this sudden planning for the future and questioning where we’re going, are you moving on, do you think?’
I study him. I can still easily see the quiet, geeky boy who became my friend at the blackest time of my life, and I’ll never properly be able to express my gratitude for that, but he’s right. I feel like I’ve suddenly grown up and I can’t ignore the fact that, although we’re the same age, he’s still a teenager in many ways, with his messy flat and video games. I’m scared, though; my relationship with Paul has been part of the security blanket that I’ve constructed over the last ten years, and if I say the words that are forming in my mind, a big chunk of that security blanket is going to go up in flames. A fat tear escapes and rolls down my cheek.
‘I think I might be,’ I whisper.
Paul pushes back his chair, comes round to my side of the table, kneels down and puts his arms around me.
‘Don’t cry, Daisy. You’re the bravest person I know, and if you feel you’re ready to move on, then it would be wrong of me to hold you back.’
‘I’ll miss you, though,’ I tell him. The single tear has somehow become a deluge, but he doesn’t loosen his grip.
‘I’m not going anywhere. Any time you need a chat, or even just a new phone, you can call me, okay?’
I gently ease myself out of his arms, partly because I’m aware I’m making his shirt wet, and partly so that I can look him in the eyes.
‘Will you be all right?’ I ask.
‘I’ll probably mope around a bit after you’ve gone,’ he replies. ‘But I think I’ll live. There’s very little that a few hours ofFortnitecan’t cure.’ He smiles ruefully.
‘You might meet someone new – you never know.’
‘I might. There’s a woman who comes into the shop a lot. She says she’s having trouble with her phone, but I reckon she breaks it deliberately because she fancies me.’
‘Idiot!’ Despite my tears, I can’t help but laugh.
After that, there doesn’t seem to be much more to say. I gather my stuff together, and we have an awkward hug at the door, neither of us wanting to be the first to say the final goodbye. In the end, he breaks the embrace.
‘Good luck with the café and everything,’ he says. ‘And I meant what I said. If you ever need anything, I’m right here.’
I kiss him one final time, then turn away and start walking towards the car. I think we both know that I won’t be calling him. I need a clean break and, painful as it might feel now, I know I’ve done the right thing.
In a funny way, I’m quite proud of both of us, for the emotionally mature way we handled it. But then, perhaps we were able to break up so peacefully because there wasn’t much there to hold us together any more. As I head for the car, I realise there’s one more thing I ought to do before I leave. I turn around and head for the Chinese takeaway.
‘Are you all right, Miss Daisy? Was everything okay with your meal?’ The woman behind the counter looks worried. She obviously thinks my second visit is bad news. I guess it is, in a way, although I doubt very much that our weekly takeaway made much of an impact on their books.
‘Everything was fine, as always. I just thought I ought to tell you that I’m moving away, so I won’t be coming in again.’
‘Ah, that is a great shame for us. We will miss you, Miss Daisy. I hope you are very happy in your new life, though.’
‘Thank you. I’m going to try.’
The thunk of the car door as I close it feels final, like the closing of a chapter. I feel vulnerable, like a hermit crab that has outgrown the shell that has been its home for so long, but hasn’t yet found a new shell to move into. At least I’ve got a busy weekend ahead, with my shift in the café tomorrow and starting to clear Fred’s flat on Sunday, so I won’t have time to mope around, wondering if I’ve made the wrong decision.
There’s only one thing I feel absolutely certain about right now.
‘Right then, Nora, let’s see what we can do about saving your café,’ I say out loud, as I start the engine and turn towards home.
19
Mr Holdsworth was right. I can’t keep this up, I’m completely exhausted. Over the last month, my work routine has been the same, but then I’ve carried on working on my new laptop in the evenings, keeping on top of the accounts for the café, researching and ordering things to help smarten it up without spending a fortune, and also doing my food hygiene training. That was an eye-opener, and I’ve become obsessed with cross-contamination to the point that Nan is threatening to ban me from the fridge at home, because I keep rearranging it and she says she can’t find anything. I still haven’t actually cooked anything new at the café, but I’ve started helping Matt a bit in the kitchen on Saturdays and he’s being surprisingly patient with me, considering I’m under his feet a lot of the time. I have had moments of missing Paul, but I’ve been so flat out that they’ve been few and far between.
