I wince. Joan winces.
“Do you think our taste-testing might have run its course?” I suggest.
“Never,” Joan battle cries. “We’ll go back to the normal flavors when I’m home from my adventure.”
“OK.” I sip again. It’s not so bad, second time around.
We discuss Geoff and Joan’s next trip; they are packed and ready for their month-long cruise-ship adventure. Joan produces another leaflet, wowing me with all the stops on the route, and then shows me pictures of the ship, which stun me. There are waterslides and ice rinks. I can’t speak, and so Joan speaks forme.
“Yeah,” she says, nodding. “We don’t tell all you young lot how exciting cruising is, for fear you’ll all start doing it too, driving the prices up. It’s expensive enough as it is. Although Geoff is treating me. I do think he might be a secret millionaire,” she muses.
I laugh and then Joan asks me about my holiday. “Nice tan, young lady. You look vibrant, healthy.”
“Thanks. I feel it.”
“Did you have adult sleepovers with that young man?”
“Eleven,” I boast with a smile.
“Well, I say!” Joan chuckles. “I think that deserves a biscuit.”
We each take one from the plate and nibble.
“I take it everything came to a head with Davey then?”
I nod, thinking of him typing to me but never quite managing to hit send. I haven’t told anyone this is what Davey’s done. Twice. And I don’t want to attach any significance to it. But I look Joan in the eye and instead of saying,Yes. All over,I say, “He’s been messaging me but not sending them.”
Joan stares at me. She has no clue, so I explain. “I can see him typing. He doesn’t hit send. He’s done it twice. That I’ve witnessed.”
And it occurs to me that he might be doing it at other times also. I frown as I realize that. It would be too coincidental that he’d choose those two times I was online and watching to be the only two times he wrote something but didn’t send it.
Joan’s saying something and I tune back in. “Have you thought to ring him? How long’s it been?”
“Almost two months. And no. I’m a coward. I messaged him. He’s not replied. I’m not going to phone him. I’ve already made the first move to be friends. It’s his turn now.”
“Even if he’s unwell? You’ll still leave the ball in his court?”
I nod. “It’s because he’s unwell that I’m leaving the ball in his court. He asked me not to contact him. I didn’t adhere to his request. I can’t keep going. I can’t keep hassling. It really has to be his turn next.”
“I understand,” Joan says, looking on my side of the garden for the biscuit plate. I pick it up and, after she takes a biscuit, I put it back down.
“You not having one?” she asks.
I shake my head. “I think George thinks I’ve gotten fat over the holiday.”
Joan looks appalled. “George of the eleven adult sleepovers?”
“Yes.”
“Hannah,” Joan warns.
“No, no. It’s not like that. He’s just really into health and fitness, and he wants me to mirror that. He took great pains to say he categoricallydidn’tthink I’d gotten fat, but I reckon he does really. He loves his five a day. And I like pancakes in a breakfast buffet, especially when someone else is going to the hassle of making them.”
“Oh yes,” Joan says. “I think I’ll be piling on the pounds on the cruise if there’s daily pancakes.”
“You only live once, though, don’t you?” I suggest.
“And then a coronary comes for you,” Joan warns sagely.
