‘Not in a million years. Let’s get you signed up.’
So we did. And if Kiko laughed so hard she had a slight accident (‘Honestly, I think I must be doing those pelvic-floor exercises all wrong…’) it was totally worth it.
Sarah’s protests that she wanted ‘classy options only’ soon became the catchphrase of the night. It also became apparent that any website with the word ‘classy’ in the description meant: ‘Totally non-classy. Trashy, in fact. Trashy, slimy and quite probably perverted.’
In the end, we went for the bog-standard, mainstream site Lovelife! Then came the tussling over the profile pictures.
‘No, Sarah, looking like a prison guard from Guantanamo Bay is not going to help you find a man who will suit you.’
‘But doesn’t that one make me look clever?’
‘If clever is another word for terrifying. Or ill.’
‘Please don’t use that one. Please, please, please. I look like a total airhead.’
‘Fun and beautiful does not mean you’re an airhead!’ I scolded. ‘What made you think being attractive and smiley means stupid?’
‘Says her with her too-big glasses and shabby jeans,’ Sarah said. ‘You couldn’t say it more clearly if you had a sign round your neck: “Men beware– I’m not interested and deffo not interesting.’’’
‘What?’ I goggled at her.
‘It’s true.’ Kiko giggled. ‘You do look like the style you’ve gone for is “please don’t notice me.’’’
‘Well, how about you stop noticing me and get back to Sarah?’ I huffed. Too late – my new friends launched themselves across the sofa, ripped out my bun, stole my glasses and would have forcibly removed my jeans if I hadn’t loudly pointed out that this was aboutSarahbeing attractive, not me.
‘It’s weird, though.’ Kiko looked me up and down. ‘You wear nice clothes but they just don’t really suit you. No offence.’
‘Personality-wise or your figure.’ Sarah nodded wisely.
‘No offence, but saying no offence at the start or end of a sentence doesn’t mean it isn’t offensive,’ I pointed out. ‘And the reason they don’t suit me is because I didn’t buy them.’
‘Eh?’ Sarah said, adding the picture I’d picked onto her profile.
‘Pretty much all my clothes are Zara’s rejects.’ I took another swig of wine.
‘Who’s Zara?’ Kiko asked. And that started a whole other conversation, so by the time we’d done that, and sent Sarah’s details shooting off into the worldwide web, it was way too late for me to walk home. This time, when enduring another taxi ride with Tezza, I paid in advance.
12
The Monday after the holidays, I spent the morning at Ellen’s, baking another cake. As I swung back out of the garden gate, Fisher slunk up in his car, eyebrows bristling through the open window.
‘Still here?’
‘Yes. And yes, Ellen knows I’m here, too.’
‘I meant still in Middlebeck.’
I started pushing the bike along the pavement, but he simply crawled along beside me.
Glancing over, I saw the crocodile smile again. ‘Can’t be pleasant, living without basic appliances.’
What would new Jenny say to an arrogant crocodile?I decided new Jenny wouldn’t bother.
‘Top-of-the-range kitchens in the flats behind the church. Dishwashers. Induction hobs.’
I clambered on the bike, pedals spinning as I raced along the empty pavement, while Fisher called after me. ‘I’ll do you a very nice deal on a part-exchange. But they won’t be available for long.’
Why was Fisher so keen to buy my cottage? And how did he know I had no appliances? Did Ellen know? Had she asked him to make me an offer? Didn’t she know I couldn’t begin to think about letting go of the only link to my family that didn’t involve me having to actually speak or otherwise interact with them?
