We Were On a Break: The hilarious and romantic top ten bestseller. Lindsey Kelk

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СКАЧАТЬ spade a spade. Or a wanker if she deemed it more appropriate.

      ‘Chris says it’s totally normal,’ Cass declared as they continued to argue over me. It was fine, I was perfectly happy to keep quiet and drink my wine. And their wine. And everyone else on the planet’s wine. ‘Chris says all men go back and forth before they pop the question, even if you don’t know it. Steve Harvey basically says the exact same thing in Think Like a Man.’

      Abi gave her a stern look. Abi didn’t care for Cass’s reliance on self-help manuals. Abi really only believed in truly relying on herself. ‘Could you tell Chris to tell Adam that when he has made his mind up do you think he could find the time to tell Liv himself rather than have her wait for it to trickle through you and his brother first?’

      ‘I’m only telling you what Chris told me,’ she said, her phone fluttering across the table, buzzing against the almost-empty bottle. ‘Speak of the devil, I’ll be back in a minute.’

      I half-stood, half-shuffled out of the booth until she could squeeze past, smiling at Mrs Moore, the landlady, as Cass dashed for the door. She smiled back, giving me the once-over as she passed. She’d been serving me since I ordered my first Malibu and Coke at fifteen. If she didn’t like what she saw, she only had herself to blame.

      ‘Liv, I’m so sorry.’ Abi straightened my collar as I sat back down, her huge green eyes full of concern and just a hint of murderous rage. ‘How are you really?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ I said, raising a hand to wave at Melanie Brookes, my mum’s neighbour, mother of two children and owner of three rabbits and a diabetic cat. There had been a dog as well at one point but he got into a cupboard and ate an Easter egg and there really wasn’t anything anyone could have done about that. ‘I feel sick when I think about it. I just really want Cass to be right, I really want this to be a wobble. Because if it’s not, I don’t know what I’ll do.’

      Abigail Levinson and I had been friends ever since her dad brought her puppy into the surgery when we were both eleven. I was hanging out there, looking for animals to bother, when a little, skinny, dark-haired girl with Coke-bottle glasses and what I thought was a super cool Mickey Mouse T-shirt walked through the door. She sat down beside me as our respective fathers disappeared into the examination room, looked me in the eye and whispered, in her most serious voice, that the dog was not going to make it. I held her hand in silence until both dads reappeared with the dog who, despite my new friend’s most assured diagnosis, bounded out towards us, happy, healthy and a hundred per cent alive.

      After they left, my dad explained Abi had been watching too much Blue Peter and took it upon herself to try to clean her dog’s teeth with her electric toothbrush and an entire tube of Colgate. In the interest of the dog surviving the summer, Dad took her on as his second junior intern (we were only allowed to clean out kennels and feed the cats but we felt terribly important) and we’d been joined at the hip ever since. After we graduated, she’d stayed on at uni to do her PhD and now she was such a super shit-hot veterinary research scientist. Even I didn’t really understand what she did and I was an actual vet. While I was taking pieces of Lego out of the Youngs’ Labrador’s stomach, Abi was curing cancer. Dog cancer, but still, it was impressive. She was Superwoman as far as I was concerned.

      ‘Sod what Adam wants.’ Abi tucked her short brown hair behind her ears and drew her eyebrows together behind her glasses, still Coke-bottle thick but considerably more stylish than they had been when we were kids. ‘What do you want?’

      I looked at her blankly.

      ‘You, Olivia, what do you want?’ she asked. ‘You do know who I’m talking about? Short, split ends, fiddles with animals for a living?’

      ‘I haven’t got split ends,’ I muttered, pinching together an inch of hair and holding it up to the light. ‘I don’t want to break up. I want everything back how it was.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘What?’

      ‘Why do you want things back how they were?’ she asked. ‘It should be an easy question.’

      ‘I don’t know,’ I confessed, busying myself by peeling the label from the wine bottle. ‘This wasn’t my idea. Leave me alone, I’m sad.’

      ‘Your idea or not, someone needs to set some boundaries before this gets messy,’ she said in the nicest voice she could manage. ‘And that should be you. He doesn’t get to dictate this entire situation, Liv, even if you are going to be back together tomorrow. You need to think about you a little bit. First he decided you were going to get engaged; now he’s decided he wants a break. You need to know what you want.’

      ‘I want to know what you want,’ I said, nudging her in the shoulder and taking a sip.

      ‘For you to be happy,’ she replied. ‘And for Mini Eggs to be available all year round.’

      ‘I don’t want to break up with him,’ I said, slowly pulling on the label, trying to move it in one piece. Life without Adam didn’t seem like an actual possible thing. ‘I can’t even process the thought of it. If he says he needs space, I should just give him space. This seems like a classic rubber band situation to me, don’t you think?’

      ‘You know I won’t answer that,’ Abi replied, cursing our best friend’s name as the wine bottle label ripped in two. ‘One, Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus is a shit present, and two, it’s full of shit advice. Cassie should be shot for giving it to you in the first place.’

      ‘Sorry, it was Chris.’ Cass bounced back into the booth and grabbed her glass. I shuffled around, glad of her interruption. ‘Gus was crying but he was just hungry. I’m going to head back soon, I don’t like leaving him alone for too long.’

      ‘Chris or the baby?’ I asked Cass.

      ‘Liv, don’t be mean,’ Abi admonished. ‘Surely you don’t expect Chris, a grown man, to be able to take care of his own child for more than forty-five minutes at a time?’

      ‘It’s not the same as asking him to record Gogglebox,’ Cass replied tartly. ‘Gus gets fussy when I’m not there at night. Sometimes he won’t settle.’

      ‘Chris or the baby?’ I asked Abi.

      ‘We should meet at mine some time,’ she said, throwing cardboard coasters in our general direction. ‘Then I won’t have to run off so early. Plus, we’ve got much better wine. You two have to come over more often, Gus barely even knows his Aunt Abi.’

      ‘He doesn’t know anyone, Cass, he’s five months old.’ Abi swirled her wine, coating her glass and taking a sniff. ‘And I’ve Stockholm Syndrome’d myself on this wine. Whenever I drink wine anywhere else, my brain doesn’t recognize it as the same substance.’

      ‘That would be because all other wine is good,’ Cass explained. ‘And this is very bad.’

      ‘Cass only drinks the finest wines, these day,’ I explained, ignoring the look on her face and topping off her glass. ‘Cass married up.’

      No one was going to say it but our weekly meet-ups had been much more like monthly meet-ups over the last year or so. I understood sitting around a dank old pub was hardly the most alluring idea to a pregnant woman but Cass had started making her excuses well before Gus was so much as a twinkle in Chris’s eye and I hadn’t realized how long it had been since we were СКАЧАТЬ