‘A dinner thing. I was supposed to go with Imogen. This will save me turning up alone, crying to the room and looking like a complete sad case.’
‘Is it fancy dress? Sadly, I had to return myGhostbusterscostume today.’
He laughs. ‘Come as you are. I’ll send you details. It’s good to hear your voice today.’
‘It’s good to hear yours. Hang on in there, Spengler. Things can only get better.’
‘Like the song from the nineties.’
I then sing. I sing the song down the phone. What the hell am I doing?
‘You’re tuneful. I’m going to go. Can I have your mobile number? I’ll text you about dinner.’
‘Sure.’ I repeat the digits carefully. ‘…007 at the end, like James Bond but not, obviously, because I’m not a spy. I can’t be because you found me, eh?’
He laughs. ‘I’ll message you, Stantz. Night.’ He hangs up.
By the way, it’s Josie. My actual name is Josie Jewell.
I stand here in the cold for a moment, clutching the restaurant’s phone, staring into the night sky scattered with stars. In the distance, I hear the percussive bangs of fireworks going off, beating in time with my chest, rainbow colours sizzling by a nearby rooftop.
Did that go well? I sang to him. I think we arranged a date, but he didn’t call it a date. He called it a thing. A dinner thing with other people. That could literally mean Wagamama where everyone shares tables. I was once sitting so close to a couple in that place that I started eating their gyoza.
I am drunk for the second day in three. I need a day off, some sleep, my bed and loungewear. Things can only get better… Mike liked that song. He had a thing for late nineties club music and I hate how he pops into my head, that he even got a mention this evening. He doesn’t belong in my head, he has no right to be there, but that’s the problem with exes, they live rent-free for an eternity, usually quietly but sometimes they poke their head around the door to give you a fright.
Josie,
By the time you read this, I’ll be gone. Yes, I’m a coward for doing it like this, but I don’t want your family to get involved and this way, it’s a cleaner break. I do love you. I think you’re smart, caring and amazing. I loved living with you and I really hoped we could make our life together work. The truth is, I’m embarrassed by your work, by what you do, your family. It started out as a bit of a joke, but there’s only so many times you can handle people taking the piss out of your girlfriend because she’s surrounded by cock and lube all day. I walked into the footie changing room the other day and one of the lads found an old video of your mum and dad going at it. My future in-laws. I just don’t think I want that to be running theme my whole life. It’s not normal. I don’t want a wife or kids involved in all of that. Please keep the ring. I’m so sorry.
Mike
FIVE
I tell you what there’s not enough of in this world. There’s not enough lighting around house numbers, which means you have to get your Uber to drop you at one end of a road, and then creep into people’s driveways trying to work out what number their house is without setting off security lights and freaking out their dogs. Only an idiot like me would also get dropped at No. 10 when she needs No. 42. I stand outside one home that doesn’t even have a number and if I was a postman, I would signal my outrage at this by losing all their mail.
Cameron was very vague about tonight. I was given an address, which I assumed from my bad geography to be the high street, and the name of a wine bar, except it’s not. That’s the name of a house, Le Blanc, and this is a residential road, which I made Piotr, the Uber driver, circle four times until I was sure this was the right place. This is not typical Josie. Normal Josie would have googled the wine bar, looked through the menu, planned her order and worked out her portion of the bill before she’d even left the house, but it’s been a busy week with hangovers and wedding talk, so I didn’t do that this time round. I’ve not dressed for a residential setting either. I’m braless in a wide-leg jumpsuit, so whatever happens tonight, there will be a point where I’m tits out in someone’s bathroom.
As I meander down the road, I suddenly see the house in question. The driveway is full. Maybe I should just bail. Piotr isn’t very far away, I could chase his car. I see balloons at the door. This definitely does not look like the casual dinner thing that was described to me. This is a party.
‘Boo!’ a voice suddenly pipes up from a bush and I let out a yelp in fright, holding my keys up to the air as my mother has taught me well.
‘It’s only me.’ Cameron emerges from the hedges that line the entrance. I smile to see him, mainly because he’s in a suit with white Converse, a duffel coat and woolly hat. The Ghostbusters glasses are gone, but his eyes are blue, clear and bright like a beachy sky. Don’t stare at the nice eyes.
‘Why are you hiding in a bush?’ I ask.
‘I wasn’t hiding, I was waiting. For you. I thought it best you don’t have to make the walk up to the house on your own.’
‘Thank you, kind sir. Though this was reported to me as a casual dinner thing.’
‘It is…’
‘Casual dinners for me are Pizza Express.’
‘Posh. Casual dinners for me are McDonald’s. You look lovely, though.’
‘Again, thank you.’
He starts to walk slowly up the drive, a cheeky walk with both hands in his pockets. I follow. Do I hold his hand? Air kiss? I’m still the girl who watched his girlfriend and housemate have sex and then gave him a shoulder to cry on.
