Page 24 of Love at First Sight

‘That’s weird,’ India says, as we walk arm-in-arm down Oxford Street. ‘Falling asleep on the phone together? I’m sorry, but we can’t just gloss over that as normal behaviour. That’s … romantic.’

‘Not asleep ,’ I say. ‘Almost asleep.’

‘Because that makes a difference?’

I look at her, pulling a face.

‘My point still stands …’ she says. ‘It’s weird.’

I start mentally reliving the other night, turning it over in my mind to list all the ways, again, that it overstepped the mark. But also, technically … didn’t.

India tugs on my arm in a way that tells me to stop, so I laugh and shake my head and change the subject.

I focus on the task at hand: dress shopping for Dad’s wedding.

Have I spoken to him yet? No, because I’m a coward.

But the wedding is fast approaching, the date having been set before the engagement party.

If I thought that was fancy, the reception is going to be at Claridge’s. Claridge’s!

‘What’s the budget today?’ India asks, as we loiter outside of H&M. ‘I like that dress. The yellow one.’ She points at a balloon-sleeved wrap dress that comes down to the knee.

‘Yeah, that’s cute,’ I say. ‘I don’t want to spend a fortune on a dress for a wedding I don’t even want to go to, but I always worry if you shop high-street somebody else will show up wearing the same.’

‘That’s happened to me twice, to be fair,’ India says, walking on. ‘I mean, obviously I wore it better on both occasions, but neither of those was my own father’s wedding. You need something unique for that.’

‘So … vintage?’ I ask. India considers this.

‘Let’s try the place near Liberty. If that doesn’t work, we’ll come back and do Selfridges, even if it’s just for inspiration. The thing is, we can’t assume we’ll hit gold today, on the first try. Occasion dressing, man, it can take weeks .’

India is so terribly dramatic this way – for a woman so marvellously spontaneous she can also spend eight to twelve months planning what to wear for the Christmas party season.

‘I submit to your higher wisdom,’ I say.

‘Good girl,’ she replies.

Whilst I don’t love shopping, moseying around town with my best friend and stopping for coffees and green juices every forty-five minutes really isn’t a bad way to spend the eight hours that Henry is at school.

He’s on a school trip today, so that’s bought me an extra couple of hours, to truly make sure no dress within a two-mile radius of the centre of town goes unassessed by my self-declared stylist.

‘Do you think I can get a plus-one for the reception?’ India asks, because whilst she hasn’t been invited to the wedding itself, I insisted on her getting an invite to the party afterwards.

When Dad was speaking to me, that is. It’s crazy, having gone this long without being in touch with him.

I don’t like it at all, but it is taking me some time to gather my courage.

‘And leave me solo?!’ I say. ‘How dare you!’

‘I think you’ll end up bringing Leo,’ she says.

‘Do you now. That’s a bit left-field.’

‘Not really.’ She shrugs. ‘I have a feeling about him.’

‘Do you want his number?’ I say, half joking.

‘Things are going quite well with Lola actually,’ she says, sheepishly. ‘So I’m good.’

‘Well, I’m ready for details whenever you’re ready to give ’em, babe,’ I tell her.

‘I swear that’s why you like to talk about my love life …

so I don’t go prying into yours. Bring her, if you want.

I don’t want you shagging any of Simone’s friends at the reception.

’ I wag a finger. ‘We want absolutely minimal overlap with that woman. If you ended up in love with her BFF and I had to see her at twice the number of life events from here on out, I would have to choose my sanity over our friendship.’

‘I’m quite sure I could never fancy anybody who deems that woman a net positive in their life,’ India says, matter-of-factly. God, I love her. ‘Your uncle though? He’s fair game.’

‘If you want to hook up with Uncle Shawn, you go right ahead,’ I say, giggling.

‘Is he the one with the …’ She motions overhead, a gesture that means really bad hair piece .

‘He is,’ I say, and she breezily replies, ‘I’ll leave it then,’ and we burst out laughing.

‘At least you’ve got Stray Kids to get your teeth into,’ India points out, rifling through a rail of fake-fur stoles.

‘I’m just so chuffed for you. I don’t love Cal – although I am desperate to actually meet him, obviously – but I do know that he’s been helpful.

Sometimes we need people outside our immediate circle to push us to do new things, and if that’s what he’s been for you, then great, sold. Excellent.’

‘It suddenly feels so real though,’ I say. We’ve ended up in a vintage store on Argyll Street. I’m holding up a floral tea dress which would be gorgeous for something, but not the wedding.

‘How so?’

‘I have to set myself up as a community project, get a bank account so they can give me the money, and then my only stipulation thereafter is a financial report sent to them in six months, and again in a year. Which I take to mean, there had better have been activity within six months. As in, now five months and three weeks and a few days? Tick tock …’

‘What’s Ali said?’ India asks.

I don’t say anything.

‘Jessie,’ she intones. ‘What’s Ali said?’

I grimace. ‘I haven’t told her yet,’ I admit.

I can tell India disapproves. She’s always known I’ve been hesitant to tell Ali anything about my Stray Kids idea because I know exactly how she will react, and it won’t be positive.

‘What if she fires me?’ I say. ‘I want to keep looking after Henry as well as developing Stray Kids – I mean, lord knows I have the time. But I know she’ll be weird about it, get funny, and probably look to replace me before I can quit, which I would never do.

I love Henry! Henry and Ali are family!’

India puts down the lace shawl she’s been eyeing.

‘If Ali fires you for something that has nothing to do with her, she’s an arse,’ she says. ‘She reckons she’s your friend, that you are family, but then she plays these power games that mean you’re not going to tell her about this huge new thing in your life? Nah, not cool.’

‘I will tell her,’ I protest. ‘Now I’ve got the funding approved. I want to be able to share it with Henry too, you know? And half his school are my target market, so the other parents will hopefully get involved soon enough …’

India looks at me sympathetically. ‘I’m sure she won’t fire you,’ she says, more softly this time. ‘She might be annoyed if she feels like you’ve got a split focus, but you’ll just have to prove you can do both things at once, and then she’ll calm down.’

‘We’re looking at mere weeks until opening,’ I say. ‘Once the paperwork is square I need a location, volunteers, help getting the word out there … This is all happening so fast.’

India pulls a face. ‘Not really, doll,’ she counters.

‘You’ve wanted this for years. The whole plan has been in your head, perfectly formed, it’s just now you have an external source of accountability.

It’s normal to freak out, but I promise you, everyone wants you to succeed and we’re all here to support you and help you.

Cross my heart. And I’ll do your marketing, pro bono. It’s my zone of genius, after all.’

‘Since when did you become a life coach?’ I ask, amused. ‘You’re saying all the right things, you know.’

‘Don’t sound so surprised!’ India laughs. ‘Anyway. I’m too tall for this, but I think you should try it on.’

She hands me a midaxi-length petrol-coloured silk slip of a thing, and pushes me into the changing room.

‘Yes, oh wise one.’ I say. She gives me the finger.

Ali has been away four nights now, and just like I do every night once Henry is in bed, I text her with an update.

Hey Ali , I type. All good here – Henry loves sending you the videos, and watching your videos back in the mornings.

He misses you, but he’s doing okay! We’re having a fun time!

One more thing: I just wanted to let you know that I’ve got funding for a kids’ club in the local area.

It won’t impact my looking after Henry or anything like that, but I have to act fast to fall in line with the rules of the grant, so just giving you a heads-up!

Sorry to do so whilst you’re away, but wanted you to hear it from me asap! Xxxx

My heart races as I hit send, but I do it, like the big brave girl I am. Just kidding. I could throw up I’m so nervous.

Then, because I bought the petrol-coloured silk dress for the wedding, I decide to pull the trigger and call Dad. Simone normally has gigs in the week, so if I’m going to catch him when she’s not around, tonight’s the night.

He picks up after almost eight rings.

‘Oh!’ I say, once he does. ‘I didn’t think you were going to answer!’

‘Hello, Jessie,’ he says, voice sombre. ‘I wondered when we’d hear from you.’

We. He wonders when we would hear? Kill me now.

‘Well,’ I say, crossing my legs and sitting up straight in the armchair by the couch, like pushing my shoulders back and keeping my chin up will help me hold on to my dignity. ‘The other week …’ I say, trailing off.

‘Yes,’ agrees Dad. I expect him to say we all acted poorly or everyone had been drinking or I still love you, even though I’m mad . But he doesn’t say any of those things. Instead he says, ‘Look,’ and I know that any sentence that begins with look isn’t going to go anywhere happy.

‘This can’t go on,’ Dad continues. ‘I can’t for the life of me think why you’d try to get in the way of my happiness.’

‘Dad, I don’t—’

‘No,’ he cuts in. ‘Let me finish.’ He’s cold and determined, and I know I’ve lost. I can feel it.

I’ve rung him up to be let down. I feel cold all over, even though I’m sweating.

The avalanche is crashing down the mountain, and I am powerless to stop it.

‘Since your mum left,’ he says, ‘it’s just been you and me.

I wanted to be there for you, Jessie, as your father, as the man in your life, as the person who loves you most in the world.

But you’re grown, and it’s time for me to be happy with the woman I love.

And you’re old enough to accept that without acting out like you do.

It’s exhausting, and quite crappy to be around. ’

I keep waiting for him to pause, to take a breath, so that I can object, say my piece, but all of this comes out in a steady stream, delivered in a way that means I don’t get a chance to interrupt and stop the inevitable.

‘As such,’ he says, and I’m holding my breath.

If I inhale or exhale or move a muscle, my world will come tumbling down, because my father will say he does not love me any more and then I will have no one and nothing.

‘Simone and I have both agreed that it’s best you don’t come to the wedding.

We don’t want another scene, not on our special day.

And we can’t spend all the time leading up to it worrying about what you will say, or do.

So it’s best to decide it now, so we can plan happily, without worry.

Please do not come. I hope you will find a way to let Simone into our family, to accept that I love her and she’s one of us now.

Maybe this will be the wake-up call that you need.

I don’t know, Jessie. Regardless, it’s regrettable things have ended up here.

It makes me wonder what I’ve done wrong, when all I ever did was try my best … ’

The words stick in my throat. Don’t abandon me , I want to say. I’m sorry, I’ll try harder , I want to tell him. But I can’t.

‘We’ll talk once we’re back from honeymoon,’ Dad says, and then, unbelievably, he hangs up.

And I sit there, in a house not my own, jaw slack, desperately trying to think of a way to undo what has just been done, and then crumpling into a heap when I realise that’s not what my dad wants. I am alone.