Entangled (19 page)

We left the pub in silence. It was still raining outside, so we ran round the corner to the pub where Nat worked. We stood in the doorway, both of us slightly damp. I tried not to think about how bad my hair must look.

‘I’ll call you tomorrow. Got some lame family thing tonight.’ He leaned down to kiss me, all too swiftly. I wanted more. I put my hand to the back of his neck and pulled him closer, but I still couldn’t get close enough. I wanted to take him home with me and make things all better in the only way I knew how. But it looked like I was going to have to wait.

Before I knew it I was standing alone in the doorway, feeling relieved and unsure and happy all at once.

The next day, I couldn’t face waiting at home for Nat to call, so I went round to Sal’s for lunch. The added bonus was that I wouldn’t be home when Mum got back from London. She always made a show of wanting to spend quality time with me when she got back from one of her trips. It never lasted. After about half an hour in my company, she’d suddenly remember that she needed to call Alison or Suzy or the hairdresser or
anyone
. I swear to God she’d rather dial a random number and talk to a complete stranger than have to spend time with me.

Everything was nice and normal at Sal’s house. Her mum folding the washing, Cam wandering around playing on his DS, getting in everyone’s way and shouting, ‘Die! Die!’ every few minutes. But Sal was being weird. She was acting super-polite and kept making sure I had a drink and did I want any more salad? Anything for pudding, perhaps? It was disconcerting. It had always been a case of ‘get it yourself’ when we went to each other’s houses, but she was acting as if I’d never so much as set foot there before.

I put it down to the fact that she felt awkward about the way she’d acted the other night. I thought we’d dealt with all that nonsense on the phone yesterday. I was half tempted to say something to put her at ease, but I was reluctant to bring up the subject again. Instead I did my best to act completely normal, hoping to reassure her that everything was OK between us.

After lunch, we headed up to her room. I lounged on the bed, while Sal connected her iPod to her stereo. We listened to music and talked about nothing important. It was nice just hanging out with her, and after a while she seemed to relax – as if she’d suddenly remembered that we were best friends and perhaps she could feel comfortable in my presence after all.

My phone rang and it made me jump. How had I managed to forget that I was expecting Nat to call? I’d hardly slept the night before, trying to work out how best to play things. I just wanted everything to get back to normal as quickly as possible. I wanted this ‘hiccup’ (I’d decided that’s all it was) to be a distant memory, something Nat and I would maybe remember in years to come and laugh about how silly we’d been. I wanted that more than anything. But it couldn’t even begin to happen until I was able to at least spend some time with him. I was so desperate to see him that I nearly pressed the disconnect button on my phone in my eagerness just to hear his voice.

But I was sorely disappointed. It was Mum, dammit. Why the fuck was she calling me? Maybe she’d discovered that I’d wrecked one of her best pans. Maybe she’d decided to cook some big meal to celebrate her homecoming?
Unlikely
. Then I realized that she was calling on her mobile.

‘Grace, darling, it’s me.’

‘Hi.’

‘Listen, I’m afraid I’m going to be staying down here a few more days. You’ll never guess who I bumped into yesterday! Uncle Mick …you remember him, don’t you? Of course you do! Your father’s friend? Well, he’s got a flat here – a penthouse, no less – and he said he’d love to have me stay for a few days. That way we can have a proper catch-up. I hope that’s OK? It’s so long since I’ve seen him – we have so much to talk about! Anyway, there’s plenty of food in the freezer, and if you need anything else, there’s money in the penguin jar.’

I could hardly get a word in. My mother was babbling like never before. It was painful. My end of the conversation consisted of words like ‘yeah’ and ‘fine’. I did, however, manage to squeeze in a question about Uncle Mick’s wife. Strangely enough, Mum didn’t seem entirely comfortable with that particular subject. Messy divorce apparently, all very recent.

And then she couldn’t get off the phone fast enough, which suited me just fine. I was pleased that I’d have the house to myself for a bit longer, especially as it coincided nicely with Operation: Making Things Normal with Nat.

Sal had pretty much got the gist of the conversation by listening to my half, but I filled her in on the rest.

She rolled her eyes. ‘Your mum is ridiculous! I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but I don’t know how you put up with her sometimes.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, doesn’t it bother you that she’s away
all
the time?’

‘Are you kidding? I
love
it when she’s away. It’s the only time I get a bit of peace and quiet.’

‘If you say so …’ She didn’t seem to be buying it, but she really should have known better. I’d never exactly hidden my feelings towards the woman who gave birth to me.

‘Trust me – you’d feel exactly the same if you had a mother like mine. Your parents are so cool, you have no idea. You’re so lucky.’

‘I wouldn’t go that far. But I suppose I’m glad they’re around – well, most of the time anyway. Don’t you get lonely, being in the house on your own?’

I gave this some thought. ‘Not lonely, exactly. And certainly not lonely for her … if that makes any sense. It’s not like I’m sitting there pining away, wishing we could make popcorn and watch
Beaches
or some such crap, or have a heart-to-heart and talk about boys. Ha! Just the thought of it …’ I stared into space, struggling to picture the scene. It was no good. Even my overactive imagination couldn’t pull that off.

‘What about this “Uncle Mick” then? Do you think …?’

I shrugged. ‘I don’t know what to think. I haven’t seen him in years. Not since … not since the funeral.’

‘Oh.’ The mention of the funeral was Sal’s signal to back off. Usually whenever the conversation strayed into ‘Dad’ territory, the subject would be changed as quickly as possible. But today was different …

‘He was Dad’s best friend at uni. Dad said the two of them were like peas in a pod – they did everything together. A bit like us two, I suppose. Mick and his wife used to come and stay with us for a week every summer. Can’t think of her name. She was pretty and blonde and didn’t smile much, that’s all I remember. Mick was cool. He could always make me laugh, even when I was in the middle of a tantrum. Him and Dad were like some sort of comedy double act.’

‘And you haven’t seen him since …? That’s such a shame.’

‘Yeah, it’s weird. I’d completely forgotten about him until just then. I swear my memory’s faulty. It’s strange how someone can be such a big part of your life and then just … disappear.’

My phone rang and interrupted my thoughts. This time it was Nat. I picked up and gestured to Sal that I’d take the call out in the hall. Nat and I chatted about nothing for a bit, then arranged for him to come over at eight.

I lowered my voice. ‘I’ve missed you …’

‘But you only just saw me yesterday.’

‘That’s not quite what I meant … I want you,’ I said as quietly as possible.

‘Oh, riiiiight. I’m so dense – sorry. I’ve … er … missed you too.’

‘Really?’ I could have kicked myself. Why did I have to sound like a needy little girl?

‘Yes, really. I’ll see you later.’

‘See you.’ I disconnected the call, wondering if I should have added an ‘I love you’ at the end, but perhaps that would have been too much, too soon. I leaned against the wall for a moment and closed my eyes.

A little voice piped up, ‘Who was that?’

I opened my eyes to find a pair of eyes peering up at me from the stairs below, hands grasping the banisters as if he was a prisoner down there.

‘None of your business!’

‘Was it your
boy
friend? Do you luuuuuurve him? Have you kissed him yet? With tongues?’ He stuck his tongue out at me and wiggled it around.

I laughed. ‘That’s none of your business either! What do you know about kissing anyway? Have you got a girlfriend?’

‘Urgh, no. Gross! I’m NEVER having a girlfriend! Never, ever, ever in a million years! Girls are worse than cabbage.’ And with that made perfectly clear, he clattered back down the stairs.

I returned to Sal’s room. ‘Your brother is hilarious! And possibly gay.’

She was sending a text message at lightning speed. She pressed send and then looked up at me. ‘I’ll have to take your word for that. So … things are definitely back on with Nat then?’

I hadn’t told her the whole story yet – I’d been sidetracked by Sal acting weird and then Mum calling. I quickly filled her in, recounting my conversation with Nat
almost
word for word. I made sure that I sounded slightly less pathetic than I’d actually been. There was no reason for Sal to know about all the tears.

‘So … that’s good then, isn’t it?’ She didn’t sound sure.

‘Er,
yeah
it’s good! I really thought it was over.’

‘Sounds like you did a pretty good job convincing him otherwise.’

Her words made me feel odd somehow. ‘Well, I didn’t force him or anything! I just reminded him what we had.’

‘You really do love him, don’t you?’

‘Of course I do. Why? Didn’t you believe me before?’

‘I don’t know what I believed. I suppose … well, it’s all quite new, isn’t it? You were always so scathing about love and relationships.’

I shrugged. ‘What can I say? I was an idiot. I had no idea what I was talking about. People do change, you know. Why are you being weird about this? Aren’t you happy for me?’

That seemed to shake her up a bit. ‘Sorry, of
course
I’m happy for you. I just don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all.’

I softened somewhat. ‘I’d be hurting a whole lot more if he’d dumped me.’

Sal merely nodded, still chewing at her fingertips. I noticed she’d drawn blood.

‘Hey! Since when do you bite your nails? That’s disgusting!’

She took her hand away from her mouth and looked at me all shifty. ‘I don’t bite my nails …’

‘Yeah, right.’ I looked at my watch. ‘I’m going to have to head off, if that’s OK? I need to sort the house out a bit before Nat comes round. And sort myself out – I look like shit.’

Sal sighed. ‘You
never
look like shit, Grace.’

‘Aw, thanks, honey, but you have to say that – you’re my best friend.’ As I leaned over to give her a quick hug, her phone beeped with an incoming text message. She ignored it.

‘Right, I’ll call you tomorrow and give you all the gory details.’ I winked at her.

Sal grimaced. ‘You can keep the gory details to yourself. I’ll take the PG-rated version.’

I laughed and skipped out of the room, feeling buoyed and positive about everything.

When I saw the state of the house, my positivity levelled out somewhat. I changed into my trackie bottoms and an old T-shirt and got to work, washing dishes, vacuuming, plumping cushions. Well, I plumped two cushions before I realized what I was doing.
Mum
plumps cushions;
I
do not. I took my bedding out of the tumble dryer and checked it carefully. It was as good as new, thank God, so I decided to change the sheets on my bed for the second time in two days. My spare set (tartan, if you can believe it) didn’t exactly conjure up the mood I was aiming for.

By the time I was finished, the house was looking pretty damn good – as good as it ever could, anyway. I was exhausted, so I slumped down on the sofa and flicked on the TV. It was just before six, so there was plenty of time to get myself looking halfway decent – I just needed a little break first. I surfed the channels and eventually found
Friends
. I’d only seen that particular episode twice, so I settled down to chill out for the next twenty minutes or so. I told myself (and quite strictly too) that I was only allowed to watch this
one
episode, and that was it.

Next thing I knew, the doorbell was ringing. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit. One look at the clock on the mantelpiece confirmed my worst fear: eight o’clock on the dot. He wasn’t even late.
Why isn’t he late? He’s
always
late, dammit!
I sprang from the sofa and presented myself in front of the mirror.
Eeeeesh. Not good
at
all
. I wiped at the corner of my mouth to get rid of a tiny bit of drool. I let my hair down and flung my head forwards and backwards a few times. The result wasn’t quite just-stepped-out-of-a-salon, more just-escaped-from-an-asylum. But it was going to have to do. It was too late to do anything about the clothes, but at least my trackie bottoms weren’t harbouring any nasty stains. The T-shirt was way too small and my big toe stuck out of one of my mismatched socks. Oh well. I quickly sniffed my armpits, which didn’t send me reeling in disgust. I smelled like nothing – no deodorant, no body lotion, no perfume, no nothing.