Page 61 of Isn’t It Nice We Both Hate the Same Things

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Ivan and Dora arrive Sunday evening to take me out of the apartment for a couple of hours – it’s like day release, for prisoners. Ivan, wearing a new pair of trousers, refers to it as a rescue mission.

‘Blink twice if you’d like us to arrange a hit,’ he says, about Dave, as we exit the apartment building. ‘We’ll take him to a farm and shoot him, like a cow.’

‘We’re okay now, I think.’

Together, they bring me to a nearby pub. An old-town English sort of pub, with earthy wooden walls and cobblestone steps, mismatched tables, a jukebox, and a warm glow in the windows as light beacons from inside.

We secure a table out the front, and they help me park my wheelchair. Once we’re settled, Dora says ‘Right then’ and orders us all dinner, nibbles and a round of drinks.

Once she’s back, a bowl of fries now on the table, Ivan catches my attention. ‘Do I look slimmer?’ he asks. ‘Since you last saw me?’

No.

‘Yes.’

‘Knew it.’ He’s chuffed.

‘He’s on a new diet,’ Dora says, rubbing her brow.

‘Instead of snacking,’ Ivan starts, ‘I just … don’t eat.’

‘Right,’ I say.

Dora then turns to me, placing a hand over mine. ‘How are you?’

‘Oh, we don’t need to talk about me. I’d love it if we don’t.’ I shake my head in Ivan’s direction. ‘Let’s go back to talking about Ivan.’

‘Great,’ he says. ‘I love talking about me.’

Dora chuckles. ‘Wait until he tells you about the conversation with his aunt this morning.’

Ivan’s face stills, darkening. He’s been betrayed.

‘Why?’ I ask. ‘What happened with your aunt?’

Ivan eventually relents, extracting his phone from his pocket. Opens his text messages, then slides the phone across the table. ‘She got engaged over the weekend, so I messaged her.’

Congratulations on your engagement! So exciting.

Aw, thank you! Your mum tells me you’ve been to two warehouse sales this month, how amazing!

‘Oh no.’ That’s all I can manage, I’m afraid, because I’m completely taken by laughter. Deep, guttural belly laughs that have me curled over, hand to face.

Dora is in fits, small tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, her cheeks reddening.

‘Mortifying,’ Ivan says, hands flat on the table. ‘I’m mortified . I will not be replying.’

Dora leans forward. ‘I’ve thought about nothing else all morning.’

Another laugh, and I’m reminded of how things used to be. Before the fall. Before Graham left. How much time I spent with these two – how much I enjoyed being with them.

‘I want to know everything,’ I say, sipping my drink.

And so, they rattle through all the updates from the past few weeks, like items from a catalogue.

‘Wedding planning is almost done. Just need the dress tailored.’

‘Landlord refused to do anything about the mould, so I’ve found a new apartment.’

‘Cleaver’s got the flu, the poor thing.’

‘I’ve actually been to three warehouse sales this month.’

Then, finally, Dora says, ‘And we’re loving the new host.’ The conversation stills. I sit straighter, look between Ivan and Dora. Dora, unable to meet my eye. Ivan, wincing.

God.

In all the commotion of my recovery, I’d completely forgotten that this was her first week on air. I haven’t been listening at all, have no idea how she’s going.

‘Oh,’ I say. ‘So, she’s good then, is she?’

‘Dora’s exaggerating,’ Ivan says, and I see him kick her under the table. ‘She’s clunky, still finding her feet.’

‘She’s not clunky ,’ Dora says. ‘You’re making that up.’

‘I’m trying to make Charlie feel better,’ he says, gesturing to me. ‘Grandpa was her favourite.’

‘Stop calling him grandpa,’ Dora says.

‘Five-time divorcée.’

‘That’s worse.’

‘Bald.’

‘ Ivan .’

‘Empty nester.’

‘His housekeeper lived there,’ Dora counters.

‘No, she didn’t,’ I interject. ‘I was crashing there, for a while.’

Ivan drops his fries. ‘What?’

‘I lived with him. Those last few months before he left.’

‘You secretive bitch! Why didn’t you invite us round?’

‘I thought you’d gossip.’

‘You’re damn right I would’ve gossiped.’ Ivan is aghast. ‘Tell me everything.’

‘Not much to tell, really. It was a house.’

‘A house? That’s it? That’s all we get?’ he asks, dismayed. ‘Did you rotate through all the bathrooms? Use a different toilet every time? I would’ve pissed in all his pools.’

‘There were only two.’

‘ Only ?’

Dora adds, ‘Quickly, tell us the best and worst part of it all.’

‘Best part, the space. Worst part, the space.’

‘Oh, it must be very hard living in a mansion,’ Ivan says, rolling his eyes.

‘It was . Much lonelier than I would’ve thought. I didn’t always see him. It’s a bit big, for two people.’

They’re quiet, pensive.

‘I still can’t believe he’s gone,’ I say. ‘If they’d given us more time. Another year, or even six months, we could’ve turned it around. I’m sure of it.’

Ivan looks away. Dora gives me an encouraging smile. ‘I know.’

‘But she’s good?’

Dora and Ivan look at each other. ‘We think so,’ Dora says. ‘She’s got some great ideas. And she’s funny. And she’s—’

‘Young?’ I ask.

Dora shakes her head. ‘She’s different, Charlie. Quirky. Energetic. Eager. And I hate to say it, but she’s current. Sometimes I felt like Graham was just going through the motions, doing the same thing he’d been doing for years.’

Yes, but that’s what so many people loved about him. That’s what I loved about him. He was familiar, he was confident. He was a comfort.

‘There must be something you don’t like about her.’

Ivan is quick. ‘She’s got orange hair.’

‘Stop,’ Dora says, horrified. ‘She doesn’t have orange hair. It’s brown.’

‘It’s a dark orange,’ he says.

Dora laughs. ‘It’s brown . Regular brown hair.’

Ivan shrugs, disinterested. ‘She did wear a nasty pink sweater one day,’ he says. ‘It wasn’t serving.’

‘I swear, you’d rather die than be positive about anything,’ Dora adds.

Ivan flips her off, then grins.

Dora, ignoring him, checks to make sure I’m okay. Leans towards me, smiles. ‘Brown hair or not, she said she’s looking forward to meeting you. And we’re all excited to have you back soon.’

Straightening, I continue. ‘Do you think people blame me? For what happened to Graham?’

Dora’s head tips. ‘Why would people blame you?’

‘I oversee the show. I craft the segments—’

‘It’s not your fault,’ Ivan says, sincere. ‘And it’s not Graham’s fault, either. I think people were just ready for a change. Someone different.’

‘And you can’t say you didn’t try,’ Dora says. ‘You never left the station. You were far too obsessed with building an amazing show. With saving him.’

My mouth twists. ‘I think part of that was me hiding from Dave, too.’

‘Knew it.’ Ivan snaps his fingers. ‘ Knew that’s why you stayed back. Never came drinking with us until you left him.’ He looks at Dora. ‘Don’t you remember? I said to you, there’s no way she’s happy with that brand of vanilla if she’s staying here all the time.’

That reminds me. ‘I see what you mean now,’ I say to Ivan. ‘He definitely looks like unbuttered bread.’

Ivan reaches out and grabs my hand. ‘You’ve escaped, that’s the main thing.’