‘The what?’ Isaac looked behind him, confused.
‘You didn’t tell me what the but was.’
‘Oh. Right.’ He frowned. ‘I think, for the first time ever, I’ve found myself smack bang in the middle of the friend zone.’
‘Ah.’
‘With no clue how to get out of it.’
I waltzed over to the back door, where my book and tea were waiting. ‘Good job you’ve hired someone who does, then, isn’t it?’
Isaac put down the mugs and walked over to me, pulling me into a hug. ‘I’m so glad you’re home, sis. I know this is terrible, but every time Arthur drags me to church I pray that Seb is really, really crap at finding himself so you can stay longer.’
I thought about my shaky relationship. And then I thought about work, hanging out with new friends at Sunday picnics, cheering on a team of the best boys ever, Monday Mum and Dad days, and for the first time since arriving back, I wondered if Seb taking his time might not be the worst thing ever.
Then Elliot appeared, heading out for his evening run, and I remembered that I had a very good reason for Seb to come home as soon as possible.
30
I turned up to the promised girls’ night at Connie’s with a bottle of rhubarb gin, a tub of peanut butter ice-cream and only the tiniest agenda about nudging Isaac out of the friend zone, should the conversation meander in that direction at any point.
Irrespective of the Boys to Men project, did my loyalties tip slightly more towards the man with whom I’d shared a womb, rather than the woman who I’d known for a few weeks?
Absolutely.
Not only that, but I loved Wilf and I really liked Connie and I happened to agree that they’d make a great couple.
Not that I was going to bring it up, of course. But ifshehappened to bring it up… well, aren’t friends meant to be honest?
But to my dismay, she took that topic in a completely unexpected direction.
Connie lived in a tiny Victorian terrace that she’d renovated into a gorgeous home, making ingenious use of every nook and cranny so that rather than feeling cramped, it was delightfully cosy. The downstairs consisted of two rooms, one behind the other, but we took our drinks and snacks outside to the small square of lawn. It was the first day of June, and the air was heady with summer. The evening sunshine lit pots of peonies with a hazy glow. The scent of sizzling burgers wafted over the fence, and we could hear sheep bleating in the field beyond.
After taking a moment to savour the surroundings, closing her eyes and taking in a couple of slow breaths, Connie ditched the small talk and got straight to it.
‘I don’t know what the general rules are; you’ll have done far more girlie nights than me. What do you think about setting a limit on time spent talking about men?’ Connie continued.
‘Um, yeah, okay.’
‘I get that we’re two young women, we’re bound to end up mentioning your boyfriend, my complete lack of a boyfriend, blah blah blah, but there are so many other, fascinating, things to talk about, aren’t there?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘I’m guessing you get to discuss other things with your housemates. Politics, current affairs, culture.’ She took a giant handful of popcorn. ‘When I come home from work, it’s either droids, football or medieval battles. Preferably droids playing football then fighting a medieval battle. You know?’
‘To be honest, that’s not too different from Chimney Cottage. You’ve met my housemates?’
She smiled. ‘So you’re up for some sophisticated conversation this evening, then?’ She smoothed out a crease in her emerald jumpsuit.
‘I certainly am.’ I didn’t dare look down at my flared jeans and baggy shirt.
Leaning forwards, we chinked glasses.
‘Perfect. Only before that, I need, ooh, fifteen minutes to grill you on the elusive Sebastian?’ Connie waggled her eyebrows. ‘Then I might have some half-decent gossip about me.’
I filled her in on what had been happening, finishing with the stilted video chat we’d managed the previous evening. Connie sat back in her chair, eyes narrowed in thought.
‘You’ve been together, what, more than three years? Has he ever acted like this before?’
