else, knew what she was thinking, was familiar with her every mood. ‘Yes. Yes I do. I like him a lot. It’s weird, Mills. We just clicked and I can’t get him out of my head, not for a second, and that’s never happened to me before.’
‘You’ve got to enjoy it, every minute of it.’ This was Milly’s blessing. It conveyed so many things, but primarily she was saying, don’t worry about me, and go grab your chance.
‘D’you think so?’
Milly nodded. ‘I don’t think, I know. ’
‘Well, if you know , Mills, then I’d better just go with it, hadn’t I? It’s funny though. I was chatting to Alfie—’
‘As you do.’ Milly found her cousin’s interactions with her deceased brother a little bit bonkers.
‘As I do. I was telling him about Bobby, how beautiful she looked, and ping! There he was.’
‘Alfie?’
‘No, of course not Alfie! Christopher! But it was odd, almost as if Alfie sent him to me, like a gift. Does that sound a little bit mad?’
‘No, love. It sounds a lot mad. Anyway, I thought you were still hanging on for Tom Jones?’
‘No, I gave up on Tom a while ago.’
‘I bet he’ll be gutted, poor Tom.’ Milly sniffed.
‘He’ll get over it.’
‘It’s funny, isn’t it. There was you having a go at me for eating gone-off chicken, but if I hadn’t, I’d have been glued to your side and you might not have met him. You should be thanking me.’
Pru slid off her cousin’s bed and opened the door. ‘You’re right. Thank you, Mills, for nearly poisoning yourself. You silly moo.’
‘You’re welcome, you daft cow.’
And the two laughed, in that way that they had since they were little.
But a week passed and Christopher still hadn’t called. Pru’s mood soured and she snapped at Guy, which she never did. Spying a batch of bloomers that were blackened on one side and fit only for the bin, she had yelled, ‘For every tray that is allowed to spoil, we lose money! Why don’t I just get a handful of fivers and put them straight in the bin? Save us both the time and effort!’
He looked mortified. She pinched her nose and whispered her apology. ‘I’m sorry, Guy. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’
But, actually, she did know what was wrong with her. The joy at meeting Christopher had buoyed her up for the first few days, filling her with energy and a new optimism for life that took her by surprise. This had now been replaced by self-doubt and something close to embarrassment, a feeling that she might have horribly misjudged the situation. She regretted confiding in Milly and not having been more indifferent about the situation to Bobby.
The day after the party she had checked her phone every few minutes. Having exchanged numbers, she expected a call or a text. The thought of having to text a response, however, worried her. She wasn’t that speedy on the little keypad and could take minutes to respond; and what if he used text speak, of which she knew very little? Eventually she reassured herself that the Government Chief Whip was fairly unlikely to pepper his written communication with LOL or C U L8R – these two abbreviations she had gleaned from Bobby. But this quickly became a moot point anyway: after three days she had received neither call nor text and she was more than a little fed up.
Pru sat at her dressing table and took a deep breath. Steeling herself, she decided to take the bull by the horns and initiate communication. After all, this was the twenty-first century: she could send the first text without being considered brazen! If he didn’t respond, she would be no worse off, but if he did, then it would have been worth this excruciating awkwardness.
‘This is ridiculous, Alfie. I’m so nervous! Look, my hands are sweating.’ Pru held out her palm. ‘I feel sick. I don’t want to mess it up, but I’m worried that if we don’t have contact soon, there won’t be anything to mess up. What’s the matter with me?’ She shook her head in
‘You’ve got to enjoy it, every minute of it.’ This was Milly’s blessing. It conveyed so many things, but primarily she was saying, don’t worry about me, and go grab your chance.
‘D’you think so?’
Milly nodded. ‘I don’t think, I know. ’
‘Well, if you know , Mills, then I’d better just go with it, hadn’t I? It’s funny though. I was chatting to Alfie—’
‘As you do.’ Milly found her cousin’s interactions with her deceased brother a little bit bonkers.
‘As I do. I was telling him about Bobby, how beautiful she looked, and ping! There he was.’
‘Alfie?’
‘No, of course not Alfie! Christopher! But it was odd, almost as if Alfie sent him to me, like a gift. Does that sound a little bit mad?’
‘No, love. It sounds a lot mad. Anyway, I thought you were still hanging on for Tom Jones?’
‘No, I gave up on Tom a while ago.’
‘I bet he’ll be gutted, poor Tom.’ Milly sniffed.
‘He’ll get over it.’
‘It’s funny, isn’t it. There was you having a go at me for eating gone-off chicken, but if I hadn’t, I’d have been glued to your side and you might not have met him. You should be thanking me.’
Pru slid off her cousin’s bed and opened the door. ‘You’re right. Thank you, Mills, for nearly poisoning yourself. You silly moo.’
‘You’re welcome, you daft cow.’
And the two laughed, in that way that they had since they were little.
But a week passed and Christopher still hadn’t called. Pru’s mood soured and she snapped at Guy, which she never did. Spying a batch of bloomers that were blackened on one side and fit only for the bin, she had yelled, ‘For every tray that is allowed to spoil, we lose money! Why don’t I just get a handful of fivers and put them straight in the bin? Save us both the time and effort!’
He looked mortified. She pinched her nose and whispered her apology. ‘I’m sorry, Guy. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’
But, actually, she did know what was wrong with her. The joy at meeting Christopher had buoyed her up for the first few days, filling her with energy and a new optimism for life that took her by surprise. This had now been replaced by self-doubt and something close to embarrassment, a feeling that she might have horribly misjudged the situation. She regretted confiding in Milly and not having been more indifferent about the situation to Bobby.
The day after the party she had checked her phone every few minutes. Having exchanged numbers, she expected a call or a text. The thought of having to text a response, however, worried her. She wasn’t that speedy on the little keypad and could take minutes to respond; and what if he used text speak, of which she knew very little? Eventually she reassured herself that the Government Chief Whip was fairly unlikely to pepper his written communication with LOL or C U L8R – these two abbreviations she had gleaned from Bobby. But this quickly became a moot point anyway: after three days she had received neither call nor text and she was more than a little fed up.
Pru sat at her dressing table and took a deep breath. Steeling herself, she decided to take the bull by the horns and initiate communication. After all, this was the twenty-first century: she could send the first text without being considered brazen! If he didn’t respond, she would be no worse off, but if he did, then it would have been worth this excruciating awkwardness.
‘This is ridiculous, Alfie. I’m so nervous! Look, my hands are sweating.’ Pru held out her palm. ‘I feel sick. I don’t want to mess it up, but I’m worried that if we don’t have contact soon, there won’t be anything to mess up. What’s the matter with me?’ She shook her head in
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