Page 48

I think of Anika, halfway across the world, and feel a pang.

She’d get on so well with Mads and Layla.

And she’d not let Damon get away with any of his bullshit.

I look over at him now and the ladies follow my glance.

He has looked up from his phone and is at least talking to the old bloke now.

I’m pleased Damon is finally engaging but then I notice in the corner, the photographer is here.

“So, tell us about him…” Carla says. “He’s certainly a handsome lad, isn’t he.”

“Handsome often spells trouble, but I didn’t learn that until the fourth – and last – of my men…” Mavis says, plucking the knitting out of Beryl’s hands to help her with an awkward stitch.

I could lie and tell them that Damon is nothing but loyal but, just like how I hate to lie to Madison and Layla, I find, sitting with these three ladies, that I can’t lie to them. I tell them the whole story, all the ups and downs and back and forths, and where we are now.

“Do you think I’m a fool?”

Carla squeezes my knee and says: “You’re not a fool, the heart wants what it wants and sometimes you have to make mistakes to learn the lessons. Your friends can tell you until they’re blue in the face—”

“Bluer than Beryl’s hair! Oh how we told her…” Mavis says.

“But you have to experience it for yourself, to truly learn. I used to go for the bad boys, the rollercoaster…But did you know that people fall more in love when they’re in life-threatening situations, or they feel in danger?

Apparently our brains can’t tell the difference between the fluttery feeling of falling in love and the pitter-patter of our hearts when we’re at risk.

It’s why, so often, we get what love is confused.

I thought it had to be fireworks, arguments, on-off, lust, lust, lust, and that can all be fun…

But it’s not love. No, my husband was very solid, if he was going to meet me at a certain time, he met me at that certain time, he didn’t play games and I felt safe with him. ”

As she says this, I realise that the only man who’s made me feel safe lately isn’t the one currently preening himself in the corner. It’s Leo.

“At first she thought he was boring,” Beryl says, signalling for more tea. “But I had a feeling there was more to him than that, I told her to persevere.”

“Thank God I listened to her! He made me feel so loved, every single day. 47 years we were together. It’s impossible to get over a love like that, and I wouldn’t want to. I miss him so much.”

“We all do,” Beryl says. “He was a great, great man.”

I say sorry for making them talk about all this sad stuff and they insist that they’re used to it, and that they like doling out their life lessons.

“Makes all the heartbreak seem worth it somehow,” Mavis says, just as a tray of scones with cream and jam arrive.

She grabs one and begins layering on the clotted cream, until the jam just wobbles unsteadily on top.

“I’m maybe not the best role model for love… ”

“I don’t know, it sounds like you’ve been romanced all across the world.”

“And fucked all across the world too!” Mavis adds and I try not to look too shocked at her language or the thought of her having sex, after all, I’ll probably want to be banging in my eighties, too.

“But, I guess I have learned a thing or two from all my strings of failed relationships, and that is you should never be afraid to get out, or worry about what’s on the other side.

If you think something isn’t right, trust your instincts.

Now that’s not me saying that you and your Damon aren’t for the long haul, but instead saying short haul isn’t a failure either.

Just have fun, don’t put pressure on him being ‘the one’ or anything stupid like that.

The moment it stops being fun, or he stops making you feel good about yourself, get out. ”

“Now for something almost as good as sex,” Beryl says. “Scones!”

They hand me one but I shake my head. “I’m on this strict diet, see? I’d love to but I can’t.”

Usually, when I tell other women I’m on a diet they’ll begin to tell me about their own, along with how much weight they’re trying to lose.

We’ll then spend at least an hour discussing the merits of the South Beach Diet versus Special K, filling each other in on the different ones we’ve tried.

But these ladies just gasp at the thought of a diet.

“No! Oh my love, you’re missing out,” says Carla.

“We’re not telling you to have twenty scones, I understand the importance of keeping healthy, as you get older you realise that more than ever, but have one.

Savour it. Enjoy it. Your mental health is as important as your physical health. ”

“And there’s no point living to be 100 if you have to give up everything that makes you actually want to live to 100!” Beryl chimes in. I notice she’s tucking into her second scone. My stomach twinges.

“If only you could see how marvellous you look,” Mavis says, eyes shining. “How individual and beautiful you are. I worry about you young girls, sculpting and moulding yourself into some unattainable ideal”

“Usually a man’s,” Beryl adds.

“When you don’t need to, gosh you’re so pretty, make sure you tell yourself that every single day.” Mavis squeezes my hand.

I am assuring them I absolutely will, when Damon comes over and taps me on the shoulder, not even bothering to say hello to my new friends. “Can we go now? We’ve been here well over an hour. I need to have my protein shake before the gym.”

“Give you terrible stinking farts, that will,” Carla says, and the other two crack up laughing. I introduce them and Damon just nods. “So? Angelica, can we make a move?”

“OK,” I say. “Just give me a minute to say goodbye.”

I give them all a big hug and tell them how much this conversation has meant to me, and promise that I’ll be back to visit soon.

I want to bring Layla and Madison next time, I just know they’ll adore them!

We’re on our way out, Damon looking at his phone as if his life depends on it, when I see someone who looks like Leo.

I do a double take, my chest squeezes tight.

It is Leo! It’s like I’ve summoned him by thinking of him while I was talking to the girl gang.

What on earth is he doing here? He’s just left a room and is clutching some papers in one hand.

“Angelica!” he says, and pulls me in for a big hug, as if the other night never happened. I’m baffled but can’t pretend I’m not delighted to see him. “Are you visiting someone?”

He gives Damon a terse nod, who exchanges an equally terse nod, and I explain and begin to tell him about the ladies I met.

“They sound just like you, Madison and Layla!”

“Yeah, the wicked witches of the East,” Damon grunts and we ignore him.

“I totally didn’t think of it like that, you’re right, they were just like us!

” I knew there was a reason I felt so close to them.

We reach the front desk, where Leo hands his papers over to the nurse, and then says, “Guess I’ll see you sometime.

” I realise I don’t want him to go, certainly not before I can apologise for the other night.

“Damon, if I give you my keys can you go ahead without me? I don’t want you to miss your workout. Leo and I can grab a coffee or something.” I’m half expecting him to kick off like the old Damon would have done, but he flashes me a tight smile instead.

“Sure,” he says, snatching the keys out my hand and not even giving me a kiss goodbye. Not the best look, considering I really want to show Leo that Damon has changed, that I’m not the idiot he thinks I am.

“There’s a pub down the road,” Leo says. “Pub trumps coffee, any day.”

The pub is a proper old-man boozer, with peeling wallpaper, Scampi Fries sold behind the bar, and a bunch of regulars nursing their pints on high-up bar stools.

One of them, we spot, is even having a small snooze.

I’ve missed places like this, everywhere since North Stars has been so fancy, all sharp glass bars and LEDs.

All places where you really feel you have to look your very best, in high-heels and full glam, and not just because there’s a swarm of paparazzi outside dying for a picture of you looking horrendous.

I order myself a pint of cider and black, reasoning silently with myself that I can have all that sugar because I’ve not eaten anything all day.

This can be my breakfast, then I can have another for my lunch and, maybe one more, for my dinner.

I realise I want to stay here, with Leo, for as long as I possibly can.

As soon as we sit down I begin to apologise. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so dismissive of you the other night, it’s just—”

“I understand, you’re with Damon now. I shouldn’t keep interfering in your life. It’s not what friends do.”

“We’ve always been something a little more complicated than friends,” I say, gulping down my pint. Damn that tastes good.

“But friends first and hopefully, last.” This comment cuts deeper than I expected, but I make sure not to show it on my face. “I’ve been letting my feelings get in the way of who we actually are: proper mates. I won’t do that anymore.”

I want to point out that he could have been with me, that it’s him that was the blocker to us being something more but I don’t because perhaps he doesn’t see it that way, and besides, he’s right, I am with Damon now. Friends it is.

We clink our glasses together and I try to move the conversation on. “So, who were you visiting today?”

“My granddad’s best friend, Pauly. He’s just moved into Oakdene.

” He has a white foam moustache on his lip and I have to sit on my hands to stop me from wiping it away, that would feel too intimate.

Instead, I tell him and he wipes it himself, muttering “How embarrassing.” But it wasn’t embarrassing, it was cute.

I realise I know so little about Leo’s life, his childhood.

He tells me how he was basically raised by his grandparents, as his mam and dad weren’t around a lot when he was younger.

He keeps it vague, and shares that part in a dismissive way that signals that I am not to press any further.

“They’re the sort of love story I aspire to have one day,” he says, pulling out his wallet, where he shows me a black and white picture of a couple.

She’s in her wedding dress, a crown of daisies in her hair and Leo’s granddad is looking at her, too absorbed by her beauty to notice the camera.

“They were together for sixty years. They even died together, just days apart.”

“You must miss them so much,” I dislodge my hands from underneath my bum to pat his knee. Friends pat each others knees when they’re sad, OK? I’m allowed.

“I do, I mean I was fully grown when they both went, it wasn’t like I had to go back to Mum and Dad and their chaos.

But still, I longed for them. I still do, really.

It’s also why I have stayed close to Pauly, it’s what granddad would have wanted, they were like the boozers in this pub, sinking pints and putting the world to rights each week.

Pauly helps keep me close to the pair of them, sharing stories of what they were like when they were younger. ”

I tell Leo all about my grandma, how I’d go round to her house after school and sit and watch all the gameshows with her, as the pair of us sat peeling potatoes or rolling cookie dough into biscuits.

“Nan was head of so many different social committees, she always had so much food prep to do for all these different occasions.”

“She obviously meant a great deal to lots of people, just like her granddaughter,” Leo says, before downing the dregs of his pint and plonking the glass on the table, his attention caught by something past my shoulder. “Now, come on, the dartboard’s free. I bet I can woop your ass.”

And just like that the rest of the afternoon vanishes.

We play silly games, laughing and sharing stories as the pub empties out and the sky gets dark outside.

I’m sad when the last orders bell rings and I realise Damon will have been back from the gym for hours.

I wave at Leo as we walk in opposite directions from the pub, an aching in my heart as I realise I might not see him again for ages, but I head home to Damon with the advice from the old ladies in my head. The heart wants what it wants.

But it’s Leo’s words that I hold close to me later that night, about how I’m like my grandma.

I’m falling asleep, tucked neatly into Damon’s nook, and smiling, replaying them over and over.

Leo doesn’t see me as a party girl, or a ditzy airhead, but as a woman who likes to be there for people, to make them laugh, and feel less alone in their own absurd mistake-ridden lives.

He sees me not just for who I am, but who I want to be, too.

* * *