A good-looking but moody bloke joins us, glaring at me. ‘Your sister takes the piss a bit actually,’ he growls. He’s wearing a black T-shirt that is too tight for him and I clock some serious muscles under there. He continues crossly, ‘She’salways in here taking up space that others might need. This library is for everyone, y’know?’
I didn’t know. I kinda thought libraries were a closed club, exclusively for members. Like a really, really lame Soho House.
‘Oh shush, Mack!’ Anita scolds, turning back to me. ‘Sorry about him! He’s a grumpy sod.’
He glowers at her and I suddenly get Zayn Malik vibes. Like, back when Zayn was leaving One Direction and was peak sulky all the time. ‘I’m not grumpy,’ he growls grumpily. ‘I’m just… ugh. You don’t get it.’ He throws up his hands and stomps off.
Anita giggles. ‘Not grumpy at all!’ she trills. ‘Maybe just a little cantankerous? Crabby? Petulant? Mopey? Testy? Downcast? Definitely a bit melancholy and huffy!’
‘Riiiiiight,’ I nod, like I know what any of those words mean. What is she, a thesaurus? Actually, I guess that’s part of the job description in this place.
I clear my throat. ‘Anyway, is Jemma about? I think she’s working in here today?’
‘Most days!’ she pronounces, gesturing across the room to an area of desks, where Jemma sits with her laptop.
‘So anyway, are you a member of—’ Anita is saying, but she’s lost me, because oh my GOD, is that…? Jemma is sitting across from a gorgeous, rugged man I don’t know and they’re chatting animatedly. Itmustbe the guy leaving Jemma notes in her book! E! They’ve clearly outed themselves to one another at last! And now they’re finally havinga real life chat! If so, Jesus, well done, Jemma! He’s a stunner; all huge, rugged shoulders and thick, long hair. I would hit that in a second.
I march over, throwing a ‘cheers’ over my shoulder at the desk lady with the Christmas zombie horse jumper.
‘Jemma!’ I call out as I approach her and the bloke. I’m beaming as I turn to him. ‘Well, hellooo! And what’syourname?’
‘Er, Clara, we’re in the middle of—’ Jemma begins.
‘Oh I bet you are, Jim-Jems!’ I interrupt her gleefully, offering my hand to the hot stranger. He looks a bit flummoxed but takes it.
‘I’m Aarav,’ he says in a low voice. ‘And you are?’
‘I’m Clara,’ I frown. ‘I thought your name started with an E?’ He looks even more perplexed so I turn to Jemma. ‘This is averyexciting development in the note passing! I can’t believe you’ve finally met in real life! It was about time – it was all starting to get a bit weird, to be honest. All that caterpillar crap!’ I don’t stop for breath as I place a hand on his arm. ‘God, I’msoglad you turned out to be a hottie. I was imagining all kinds of maniacs with two heads. But you’regorgeous.’
‘Er, no—’ Jemma begins and I wave her off.
‘Don’t try and deny it, you minx! I’m so glad you two finally met! It’s all been a bit silly, hasn’t it? Exchanging secret notes like you’re teenagers at school! And now you can go on a real date!’ I am crowing with delight, until Jemma abruptly stands up.
‘Clara!’ she says sharply and her voice is ice. ‘This is Aarav, whose book I’m working on. This is a professional meeting.’
‘Oh!’ My eyes flit between them, as the panic sets in. That’s right, Aarav is the name of her mountaineer bloke. The one whose memoir she’s helping write. Well, god, how was I supposed to remember that?!
Ah shit, I’m in trouble. Aarav looks faintly amused, but I’ve never seen Jemma angrier.
She swallows. ‘Sorry about this, Aarav, just give me a second, won’t you?’
She grabs me roughly by the arm and frogmarches me across the room to the audiobook aisle. I’m distracted for a moment, wondering who still owns a CD player.
‘God, sorry, Jim-Jems,’ I begin. ‘I was out for lunch with Mum and Angela and we passed this way and the atmosphere was, like, totally odd. I think they were having an argument, and Angela seemed like she didn’t even want me there, so I thought I’d come in here and hang out with you. And then I saw you with that hot guy and I thought—’
‘STOP CALLING ME JIM-JEMS!’ she yells, and several people glance over. For a second of stunned silence, she looks mortified, then the fury returns. ‘Ihatethat nickname, Clara.’
She does? I thought it was cute. I’ve always called her Jim-Jems.
‘You just made me look like a fuckingidiotthere!’ she hisses, waving back towards Aarav. ‘This is mywork! He has to take me seriously, and you come in, ranting about bloody notes and dates, all the while feeling him up!’ Shepants, and I stare down at the ground, horrified. ‘You’re just sothoughtless!’ she half-shouts. ‘And so selfish! No wonder Angela was in a mood with you – why are you crashing their lunch dates anyway? You’re probably ruining their engagement, getting in the way! You should beworking, but oh no, an office job just isn’t good enough for you, is it? The world owes you something big and exciting, doesn’t it? Everyone and everything has to revolve aroundyou.’ Her eyes are wild. ‘God, Clara, you just take overeverything! You’ve taken over my house and my life. And my fucking hallway with that stupid chest of drawers. And now you’re here! Inmylibrary! Trying to sabotage my work as well!’ She is red with anger, and I am red with emotion. She takes a deep breath. ‘It’s just not working, us living together.’ After a second she adds a resentful, ‘I’m sorry, you’ll have to move out.’
I swallow hard, trying not to cry. I knew this was coming. I knew she’d want to get rid of me as soon as possible. I’m a fuck-up, and she’s right about all of it. We’ve tried to make this work.I’vetried. I know she doesn’t think I have tried, but I really have. We’re just incompatible; we don’t work.
My heart is pounding and I try to steady my breathing. I’m a mess and I’ve infected Jemma’s orderly life with it. Maybe it’ll be better when we can get a bit of distance from one another.
After a long, cold minute, I shrug carelessly. ‘OK, that’s fine. I can stay at Mum’s. I’ll have the sofa for a bit. I don’t think it’ll be for long. It’s pretty clearly not going to work out between her and Angela. I think it’s just been a bit ofcompanionship for them both anyway. I’ll have my old bedroom back in no time.’
We are interrupted by a mad woman appearing at the end of the aisle. I think for a moment we will be told off for being too loud, but I realize in that second that it’s Mum. Oh fuck, did she hear what I said about her and Angela? The last thing I need is to fall out with her as well. She’s standing there breathing hard in her big coat; the outside cold hangs around her. I fight an urge to launch into her arms and weep, begging for a cuddle, like I did when I was little.
