Page 50 of The Last Train Home
‘Aren’t you?’ my mum asks, sniffing gossip. ‘Why not?’
Oh God, what’s happening?
‘We’re just not,’ Sean says, lifting his champagne glass and looking at the crystal glint in the light. He’s examining the glass too closely for it to be natural. I wonder if he’s regretting having said that now and if this is a cover.
Oh no, I’m wrong. Sean’s off …
‘I know he’s a bit of a hero and everything, but since he tried it on with Abbie and then treated her like shit, I sort of can’t bring myself to like him much any more.’
My parents both look at me. I wish the dining chair was an ejector seat.
I smile, shrug. ‘These roast potatoes are yum.’
My parents look from me to each other. They don’t know what to make of that revelation. Unexpectedly it’s Sean who saves the situation. ‘Any more Yorkshires?’ he asks and my mum leaps up to fetch them, clearly relieved to be leaving the table.
‘What time’s the Queen’s speech on?’ I ask. I have never once sat and watched the Queen’s speech, but I can’t think of anything else to say to break this awkward silence.
‘I don’t know, love,’ my dad says. ‘Let’s look in theRadio Times.’
The table goes silent again and I drain my champagne glass, watching Sean drain his too.
‘Are you still worried about me and Tom?’ I hiss as quietly as I can when we’re in my old room later that night. I’ve been hanging on to this comment all day, waiting for the Christmas pudding to be munched, the presents to be opened, the Queen’s speech to be shown (because my dad put it on, thinking I actually wanted to watch it). I’ve beenwaiting for the end of the most awkward Christmas I’ve ever had.
‘I don’t like the fact he’s been emailing you,’ he says.
I want to soothe Sean, agree with him, but I’ve been such a pathetic person avoiding this subject for all this time that I tell him the truth. ‘I want to see Tom. I want to meet Samantha. I want to meet Teddy.’
‘Who’s Teddy?’
‘The baby. You could come too?’
‘No, thanks.’
‘But then how are you going to keep an eye on me, if you don’t come along?’ That was probably unnecessary.
‘Is that what you think I want to do: keep an eye on you?’
‘Don’t you?’ I ask.
He sits on the edge of my bed. He’s actually thinking about this.
‘Tom’s too good to be true, isn’t he?’ Sean says eventually in a deflated sort of voice. ‘Heroic. Saves you from a train. And then there’s what you told me about nearly sleeping with him. And I don’t like it. I don’t like that he’s there in the background, just being … Tom.’
‘Exactly,’ I say. ‘He’s in the background. I’ve not seen him in for ever. And you’re here with me. And you’re amazing. I love you and I’m moving to Singapore with you.’
‘Yeah, I know.’
‘Isn’t that enough?’ I ask.
He shrugs. ‘I suppose.’
But it’s not. I can tell it’s not. ‘I won’t see him if you still don’t want me to.’
‘Can I think about it?’ he asks.
I nod, although my stomach hurts. I’ve eaten too much. Or not enough. Or I’m feeling something resembling disappointment. But I don’t want to hurt Sean. I don’t want to ruin this. ‘OK,’ I say. Because we are good together. We are.
As long as we’re not talking about Tom.
