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Dad thrust a card at her, a silly grin on his face.
. . . AND INTO THE FIREwas printed in capital letters. Nothing else. ‘What does this mean?’
‘It’s part of a well-known phrase. The idea is you chat to other people to find the other half. It’s an ice-breaker thing,’ Dad replied.
‘Great,’ Holly said, rolling her eyes.
‘Please, just one drink,’ Mum pleaded. ‘It might be a good way to make new friends, too, now you’re back.’
Holly hesitated. One drink wouldn’t hurt and it would earn her massive brownie points with Mum and Dad. She downed her wine in a move that received instant looks of both shock and admiration from her parents. ‘Buy me another and I’m in.’
* * *
Chattingto strangers wasn’t too bad. Most people seemed nervous; perhaps they had more riding on tonight than her. Talking was never an issue when nothing was at stake.
She’d quickly struck up conversation with a cute butch woman. Totally not her type – Holly preferred her partners to be a little more feminine – but Natalie was easy to speak to.
‘So, you from around here?’ Natalie asked, supping on her craft beer.
‘Originally, yeah, but I spent the last few years in London.’
‘Oh, wow. So, why are you back?’
Girlfriend cheated on me, I spiralled into a depression, lost my job and my flat, and had to come crawling back.‘Missed home, wanted to come back to my roots.’
‘Nothing quite like Glasgow, eh?’
‘It’s one of a kind, no denying it. I take it you live near Shawlands too?’
‘Yeah, just up the road.’ Natalie paused, her eyes scanning the room. ‘Listen, I think I’m going to go look for the other half of this saying, but I’ll be back later, yeah?’
‘Yeah, sure, sounds good,’ Holly replied with a meek smile. Abandoned by Natalie, she was alone once more. She leaned an elbow on the nearest standing table and faced the crowd, her table pals a touchy-feely man and woman.
Annie wasn’t lying: the place was thin on the ground with lesbians. There was Natalie and herself; then a mousy little woman barely in her twenties; another woman with almost zero appeal to her – she looked like she was dressed to go clubbing, and who wears four-inch stilettos to a standing event?! – and a feisty, hot redhead. Holly hadn’t had the guts to approach the last one yet. Although, she was currently deep in flirty conversation with a guy who looked the spit of Chadwick Boseman, so there was a possible badge mix-up there.
Not that it mattered. After Shona she needed time to heal. The truth was, she wasn’t sad about Shona. Okay, maybe a little. But things had been wrong for a long time; it had just been easier to stick at it and hope something would change. It was just the straw that tipped the camel's back. No, wait. She’d mismatched too many of these damn phrases tonight. The break-up had been the final thing to push her over the edge, spiralling into a pit of dangerous self-loathing. She’d moved to London with so many hopes and dreams, only to find herself sucked into working in bars and living paycheck to paycheck. She’d achieved exactly nothing since leaving university. Mum and Dad hadn’t wanted her to leave but she’d been pig-headed and done it anyway, declaring Glasgow and home a boring cesspit in the process.
She’d been a terrible daughter, and yet her parents had been nothing but ridiculously supportive the last few months. They said it was because they loved her, but she’d abandoned them, part of her knowing if she came home for too long, left the grasp of London for more than a few days, that reality would hit and she’d be lured into staying. But to do that would be admitting failure. The truth was, her heart was always in Glasgow. It had taken this year to show that. Leaving would have been better on her own terms, though, not like now. Now she’d cemented her fate as a perpetual disappointment. At least she was consistent with that. This was a fresh start, though. She was going to make it up to them; do anything they needed of her. Beginning with this event.
She realised too late that she’d been staring, lost in her own thoughts for too long, and it wasn’t dead space she was looking at. It was Miss Mop Bucket herself.
There was an awkward moment of proper eye contact before Holly made her way over. Time to build a bridge.
‘Come to soak some more innocent souls?’ she joked.
‘And I take it you’ve come to steal more parking spaces?’ the blonde replied, deadly serious.
‘Excuse me?’
‘The space outside my shop. I have an agreement with the deli owners.’
‘And what would that be?’ Holly sipped her wine, dying to know what the heck this woman was on about. Mum and Dad hadn’t mentioned anything. Had they?
‘I get that space around five, if it’s free. It’s just how we do things.’
The woman stared her down, her pale green eyes locking with Holly’s. She clocked her name tag: yellow top.Interesting.‘Listen, Jen. I didn’t see your name on it and my parents didn’t say anything, so it’s free game.’
‘Your parents? As in Catherine and Harry?’
