Stuck with You: the perfect feel-good romantic comedy!. Carla Burgess

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СКАЧАТЬ He broke her heart, poor thing. Destroyed her confidence.’

      ‘Oh no! That’s a terrible thing to happen. You must have been furious.’

      ‘Yes. She was in a right state, but she’s feeling better now, bless her.’

      ‘Oh good.’

      ‘Well, I’m glad you seem to be coping so well with this. You can go home early this afternoon, if you like. Just finish that list I gave you this morning and you’re free to go.’

      ‘Oh wonderful! Thank you.’

      Hilary winked and sat back down, and I went back to looking at the pictures of Daniel.

      As promised, Hilary sent me home early that afternoon, and I arrived back in my mum and dad’s warm house at half past four. They looked mildly concerned to see me back so early, in case I’d packed in my job as well as my boyfriend. I could see the relief on their faces when they learned that wasn’t the case.

      I plumped myself down on the sofa with the cat and chatted to my dad, who was watching a recording of Gardener’s World. Mum went into the kitchen to start making tea. The sound of pots and pans clanking was a vivid reminder of my childhood, along with the steamed-up windows as the pan of potatoes boiled away. It made me miss my brother, Andrew. We’d argued constantly when we were growing up, but it seemed wrong to be here without him now. I wondered what he was doing.

      ‘Where’s Andrew at the moment?’

      My dad’s bushy eyebrows shot up and he pursed his lips. ‘In Perth, I think. Why? Are you thinking of joining him?’

      ‘No, I’ve got work.’

      ‘Maybe you could go over for a holiday? God knows, we’d like some feedback about how he’s getting on.’

      Mum came into the lounge. ‘Ooh yes, you should. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone new and exotic while you’re out there. Show that bloody Alex the world doesn’t start and end with him.’ She paused and peered at me, as if trying to work out if she had gone too far in slagging off my ex-boyfriend. I kept my face neutral and nodded slightly. ‘Cup of tea, love?’

      ‘I’ll make it, Mum. I feel bad letting you do everything.’

      ‘No no no! You’ve been at work all day. You sit there, my lovely. I’ll make the tea.’

      My dad looked across and winked. ‘You know she can’t stand anyone else in her kitchen.’

      It was true. Even while we were growing up and she was complaining we never did anything around the house, she still clucked and fussed each time we tried to do anything in her kitchen. She complained we dripped stuff on the floor and put things back in the wrong place.

      ‘How was work today?’

      ‘It was all right. I was busy and my boss let me go early so it went quite quickly.’

      Mum came in with a mug of tea for me and sat down next to my dad.

      ‘Don’t I get one?’ he complained.

      ‘You’ve not long since had one!’

      ‘I could go another one! Bleeding hell, Rosa. I’m parched.’

      ‘Oh, all right, you daft old sod. I’ll get it now.’ She went off, muttering to herself.

      ‘Your hair looks nice, Mum,’ I called to her. ‘Have you been to the hairdresser’s?’

      ‘Yes, do you like it?’ Mum looked delighted, patting her short dark hair.

      ‘I do, very sleek.’ Mum nodded and gave my dad a pointed look. He looked grumpily at the TV and Mum went off to get his tea.

      ‘Oi you,’ he grumbled at me, ‘you’re getting me in trouble now.’

      I laughed and he gave me a mock-irritable sidelong glance.

      Mum had made salmon and potatoes for tea, with green beans and peas. The three of us sat round the kitchen table and I thought how strange it felt, like I’d fallen through time or something. I’d eaten at their house pretty regularly since I’d left home to live with Alex, so it wasn’t that I hadn’t done it in a long time. I supposed it was just the circumstances. I wasn’t just there for a couple of hours; I was back with all of my stuff in my bedroom upstairs. So many memories were wrapped up in this house, but the most vivid and recent were of the months before I moved in with Alex. I had been so excited and so full of love. It hurt to be back now, feeling sad and deflated. I forked up some salmon and chewed it slowly, all the while wondering when things with Alex started to go wrong. When had we stopped talking and laughing? When had we stopped making time for each other. I couldn’t pinpoint an exact time, but like I’d told Rachel yesterday, he’d never been the most affectionate man. I’d always been the one to hug or kiss him. Those moments had become rarer and rarer recently, and somewhere between me making less effort, and him being more irritable, our love had slipped away.

      I thought about when we first met. I’d spotted him at the bar in a club one night. He’d been wearing a suit and tie and looked completely different to all the other guys in there. He’d looked so handsome, and I’d been so drunk, that I’d gone over and talked to him. After all the drunken, mouthy lads I’d encountered at university, Alex had been a breath of fresh air. He was five years older than me, and already seemed so intelligent, sophisticated and grown-up. He had a proper career, a car and his own flat. I thought he was amazing. He thought I was funny. I suppose we were unbalanced from the start.

      Mum caught me sighing and gave me a worried look. I smiled and forked more food into my mouth to show her I was fine. And I would be fine. Alex and I hadn’t communicated properly for months, so it wasn’t like I couldn’t live without him. I’d stopped thinking he was amazing and he’d stopped thinking I was funny. That was just the way it was. There was no point feeling sad about it. He’d moved on, and so would I. It was quite exciting to think I could find my own place and paint it whatever colour I wanted. Pink or green or purple or blue. No more boring walls. No more boring relationship. A new flat. A new life. Maybe even a new man?

      Almost immediately, an image of Daniel came into my mind and my heart did a little skip. Looking at his Facebook page today had reminded me once again of the Daniel box and I was curious to see if I still had it. I hadn’t come across it when I was unpacking yesterday, but I had an inkling it was at the back of my wardrobe, hidden behind a pile of clothes.

      I was right. I found the box in the top right corner of my wardrobe, behind a pile of winter jumpers. I had to stand on tiptoe to reach it; my fingertips snagged on the corner of the box and I managed to pull it towards me while clothing cascaded down around my head.

      My heart leapt a little as I removed the lid to reveal a pile of drawings and a faded school photograph. I peered at it before removing the drawings. They were just sketches and they weren’t particularly good, but their smell took me right back to drawing them and gave me a strange ache in my stomach. I’d done so many. I’d obviously had far too much time on my hands to obsess over his pudgy lips and long silky hair. I found a poem I’d written and cringed. Even the pencil sharpenings were still there, along with a small, crescent-shaped nail clipping he’d left behind on his desk after English one time. Jesus, that was gross! I’d even displayed it in a small black ring box so it didn’t get lost, along with… wait… was that hair?

      I СКАЧАТЬ