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Mum smiles. I know Charlie told her that Kip and I spent the night together. Mum hasn’t mentioned it to me yet. I think she’s aware I don’t want that conversation—not because I’m embarrassed, but because I know she’s going to tell me it’s time I lived my own life, and I don’t want to argue with her.
“He’s just listened to the podcast,” I reply, “that’s all. I’m paying attention to the movie.”
“It wasn’t a complaint,” Charlie says. “I think it’s lovely. He seems really keen on you.”
I study my phone. He’s waiting for a reply. What am I doing? Every time I message him, I’m stringing him along. And every second that goes by, I’m falling for him more.
Then I think: Alice, it’s just a text. I have to chill out more. He’s a big boy, able to make his own decisions. I’ve made it quite clear that I can’t have a relationship. All we’re doing is staying friends. There’s no harm in that, surely?
Kip messages that he caught the reference I made to him in the podcast. In Abby’s book, her main character has to deal with a pair of young twin boys who manage to sabotage the generator on her Martian world when they pretend to swap places. I commented that it must be a nightmare having twins when you can’t tell one from the other, and that I knew a pair of twins who I was sure still pulled stunts like that.
When I ask him if that’s true, he replies:That would be telling…
Me:Do people still get you mixed up?
Kip:All the time. It’s why I wear glasses.
Me:Really? You don’t need them?
Kip:Yeah, we’re both short-sighted, but Saxon wears contacts.
Me:Oh I see! Well at least it showed you I was thinking of you.
Kip::-)
Me:How did your day go? Did you manage to track Craig down?
Kip:Yeah. Kinda wish I hadn’t.
I glance over at Mum, who’s watching me with a small smile. “Do you mind if I go and call him?” I ask.
“Of course not,” she says softly.
Giving a grinning Charlie a wry look, I take my phone and, as the sun is going down and there will be moths fluttering around the solar lamps in the garden, I head through to my studio.
Once I’ve shut the door, I sit in my chair, prop my feet up on my table, and dial his number.
“Hey,” he says after a few rings. “Didn’t expect you to call.”
“Are you at home? You’re not busy?”
“Yes, I’m at home. No, I’m not busy. And yes, I’d love to talk.”
I smile. “I just wanted to check you’re okay.”
He sighs. “Yeah. It’s done anyway.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“I don’t want to bore you.”
“Oh, hardly. So you went to the house of the woman he’s having an affair with?”
“Yes, and he was there. It was a very strange turn of events.”
“In what way?”
“I told you that she—Renée, her name is—is the CEO of one of the companies we considered?”
