‘Oh, right, yes.’ God, why do I always sound so awkward. ‘Mum’s side, then, I suppose. What about you? Are you on the clock? Are they using rare butterflies to announce the baby’s gender?’
‘Yep, I’ve got a box full of large blue butterflies waiting in the wings, if you’ll pardon the pun,’ he jokes.
‘Oh, see, now you’ve spoiled it for me,’ I insist with a playful pout.
‘OK, but I did save you,’ he reminds me. ‘And hold your hand at the same time.’
‘Hmm, that’s true.’
God, I must be smiling like an idiot. I’ve got butterflies in my tummy – and it’s been a long time since I had butterflies in my tummy. Never mind the large blue butterflies, these ones are even rarer.
‘I don’t even know how you did,’ I admit. ‘I bet you couldn’t do it again if you tried.’
‘OK, I like a challenge, pop that drink on the table,’ he insists. ‘Without warning me, flail your arms like you’re falling and I’ll try to grab them to save you.’
I pause for a few seconds as Jay stares at me. For someone waiting to react quickly, he still looks cool as anything.
I quickly throw my hands out, only for him to catch them.
‘See, I’m a regular Superman,’ he tells me.
We both spread out our fingers, clasping each other’s hands as we playfully sway a little on the spot.
‘Erm, what is happening?’ Millsy interrupts us.
Shit, I was so captivated by Jay, I’d managed to forget there were other people in the garden. I’d definitely forgotten about Millsy, who went off to try and get the music sorted fifteen minutes ago. It’s only now that I’m thinking about it that I notice he succeeded.
I quickly snatch my hands from Jay’s.
‘Hey, I was just getting a drink,’ I say. ‘I nearly fell, and this man saved me from landing in the pond.’
‘Oh, did he?’ Millsy says, unimpressed.
‘How are you doing, Joe?’ Jay asks him.
‘Yeah, I’m good. Just came to get Cara.’
‘Oh, you two know each other?’ Jay says.
‘We came together,’ Millsy says.
‘We’re friends,’ I say at the same time. Bit awkward.
‘How do you two know each other?’ I ask.
‘We’re brothers,’ Jay says with a smile as he wraps an arm around Millsy, giving him a playful squeeze.
‘Stepbrothers,’ Millsy corrects him. ‘He’s my dad’s wife’s son from a previous marriage.’
‘I’m sure she knows how stepbrothers work,’ Jay teases him with a light-hearted laugh.
‘Cara, we need to go sort the cake,’ Millsy tells me, ignoring him.
‘Oh, OK. Well, it was nice chatting with you, Jay. Thanks for not arresting me.’
‘Any time,’ he says with a smile.
Millsy practically pulls me back down the garden path, towards the house.
‘Oh, God, was he using his job to flirt with you? That dork.’
‘Erm, I thought it was kind of charming,’ I reply.
I think that’s what I like about Jay, after only spending fifteen minutes with him. He seems like he’s a dork. I’m a dork. We’re not cool like Millsy; we have our nerdy jobs and our dorky interests and we’re proud of them.
‘He’s an absolute dick,’ Millsy insists. ‘And, anyway, what’s with this double standard? I get in trouble for flirting at your thing, but you can do whatever you like at mine?’
‘Erm, you flirted with a bride at her wedding – I wasn’t flirting with the baby’s dad, was I? And how was I supposed to know you had a stepbrother? You never told me you had one. And where are we even going?’
‘Fran wants to see the cake. I said we’d go get it to show her, before they do the big reveal. And I didn’t tell you I had a stepbrother because I wish I didn’t. Everyone thinks he’s so perfect – well, he isn’t.’
We’re at the side of the house now, away from the crowd, retrieving the red velvet cake so we can show Fran. It’s probably best I get it. Millsy seems really annoyed I was talking to his stepbrother; I don’t want him to drop the cake because he’s in a bad mood. Then again, I’m the only person to show her clumsy side so far today.
‘Why doesn’t he have a Scottish accent like Mhairi?’ I ask curiously.
‘Oh, God, you’re into him, aren’t you?’
‘I’m just asking!’
‘Because he grew up in London, where his dad is from, and only moved up here with his mum when he was like eighteen or something.’
I reach for the white box with the cake inside.
‘Oh, wow,’ I say. ‘Well, I couldn’t have known, could I? He doesn’t sound related to you, or to his mum. He just seemed like a guest.’
‘Yeah, so probably don’t flirt with people until you know who they are, as a rule…’
As Millsy rants, clearly horrified at the idea of me and his stepbrother, I lift the lid off the cake box. It all happens so quickly, it takes me a few seconds to realise what’s happening. Millsy too. A baby-blue helium-filled balloon is floating up past our faces. It’s too late to grab it. It’s heading for the clouds.
‘Oh, shit,’ I blurt. ‘Shit!’
I look down inside the empty white box – the box I thought the cake was in. I quickly return the lid, although it feels a little bit like shutting the gate after the horse has bolted.
Right on cue, Mhairi walks out of the kitchen side door with the cake in her hands.
‘Joe, Cara, this cake is gorgeous. I’m just taking it to show Fran,’ she tells us. ‘Then it’s reveal time.’
‘Can’t wait,’ Millsy calls after her before dragging me into the kitchen.
‘Please tell me that wasn’t the gender-reveal balloon,’ I say pointlessly, because of course it was. No one has a box with a balloon that says ‘It’s a boy’ on it lying around, do they?
We stare at the sky helplessly as the balloon gets smaller and smaller.
‘Cara, don’t panic,’ Millsy says firmly. ‘We can fix this. I’m going to fix it and it’s all going to be fine. Mhairi always has balloons and crap like that in a junk drawer in the kitchen. We just need to swap it out before she comes back.’
‘OK,’ I reply, puffing air from my cheeks.
I watch Millsy rifle through a kitchen drawer before pulling out a packet of balloons.
‘These will have to do,’ he says.
‘Millsy, they’re white balloons.’
‘So?’
‘So they know that much already,’ I say. ‘How can you do a gender reveal with a white balloon?’
‘You blow it up. I’ll think of something,’ he replies.
I blow up the balloon as he rifles through the drawer again. This time he pulls out a blue marker pen before quickly scribbling the words ‘It’s a boy’ on it. It looks awful – especially because it’s just full of air, rather than helium – but it’s better than nothing.
‘Outside,’ he says. ‘Quick.’
We bolt for the door, placing the balloon in the white box before joining the party again. We go sit down next to Ruby and Nick, making polite conversation, pretending everything is fine. It must be nearly showtime.
‘OK, everyone, gather round,’ Rod calls out.
He’s carrying the box with the balloon in so carefully, you’d think there was an actual baby inside. Little does he know, it’s not worth the effort.
Fran and Dennis, her husband, stand in front of the box, waiting for their audience. Once everyone is ready they open the box together, stepping back, expecting the balloon to fly out. When nothing happens they lean forward and peer inside.
‘Oh,’ Fran says, reaching to lift it out, staring at it almost suspiciously. ‘Erm, it’s a boy.’
She seems confused – so much so, the words leave her lips so casually. Then it hits her.
‘Oh my God, it’s a boy,’ she squeals. ‘It’s a boy!’
‘A boy!’ Dennis says, squeezing her.
Everyone c
heers and coos and absolutely no one cares about the crappy balloon.
‘Amazing news,’ Rod says, hugging them both. ‘Although it would have been amazing either way.’
‘Congratulations, sis,’ Millsy tells her. He looks so relieved that she’s too happy to care about her rubbish balloon.
Rod leans in towards us.
‘You know, I thought these balloons would be much fancier,’ he tells us.
‘At least it’s better for the environment.’
I jump a little at the sound of Jay’s voice. I hadn’t realised he was next to us.
‘The environment,’ Millsy echoes, mocking Jay’s voice.
Millsy pulls me to one side, away from all the excited congratulations.
‘Crisis averted, no one really noticed or cared,’ he reassures me.
‘Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so guilty in my life. Such a stupid mistake.’
‘Well, you don’t need to worry about it. Let’s just enjoy the party.’
‘That was some quick problem-solving,’ I tell him.
‘Yeah… maybe I would be good at escape games,’ he muses.
‘We’ll have to test that theory some time,’ I reply with a smile.
‘OK, let’s go get some drinks. Don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t get me one before, when you were flirting with Jay.’
‘Is he really that bad?’ I ask, noticing the mocking tone he said his name in.
‘Honestly, everyone thinks he’s so perfect. He’s such a dick to me – but no one seems to notice.’
‘Well, you’ve got me around to keep an eye on things now,’ I tell him. ‘I owe you after today.’
‘Actually, I suppose today makes us even,’ he reminds me. ‘After the whole bride thing, which, I swear, was just as accidental. It’s nice to know we have each other’s backs though.’
‘Yes, it is,’ I reply.
It really is. I’d been thinking that, after today, we might call this whole plus-one pact off but, I don’t know, stress aside, it’s kind of nice to be here now. I’ll stick it out for a few more events, see what happens.
‘Oi, Joe, come here,’ Rod calls.
‘What’s up?’ Millsy replies.
‘You’re still on for next weekend, right?’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ he replies. ‘Even though Fran doesn’t have to go.’
‘She’s very pregnant,’ his dad reminds him. ‘She can’t be doing six hours in the car to Scotland.’
Millsy sighs.
‘Where are you going?’ I ask, trying to dispel a little of the awkwardness.
‘Pitlochry,’ Rod tells me. ‘It’s Mhairi’s mum’s birthday. She has a house up there, on the edge of a loch. Gorgeous place.’
‘Oh, cool.’
‘And I actually like my stepgran,’ Millsy tells me.
Rod pulls a face.
‘And all the others, obviously.’
‘Obviously,’ Rod echoes with a chuckle. Then he has a brainwave. ‘Cara, you should come! Are you free next weekend?’
God, I’m free every weekend. I’m so free, so many weekends, that I can’t even quickly come up with a convincing lie.
‘Erm, yeah, I’m free…’
‘Come,’ Rod insists. ‘You’d love it. And Joe will have more fun if you’re there, I’m sure.’
‘I absolutely will,’ Millsy tells me. ‘If you fancy it?’
‘OK, sure,’ I reply. ‘Sounds great.’
And just like that I’ve gone from trying to ditch Millsy to going on a mini-break with him.
I’m sure I’ll have a laugh, so long as I don’t mess up again. It would feel so on-brand for me to accidentally destroy his stepgran’s birthday cake, or something. More than anything, though, I really hope Jay is going too. I know that Millsy might not like him but, I don’t know, it just feels as if there’s this connection between us, and I can’t wait to talk to him again.
12
Working at Millsy’s apartment – well, my apartment too, I guess, I do live here now, for now at least – has completely changed my working life.
Unlike the high-rise I used to live in, Millsy’s building is much smaller, meaning there are far fewer people living here, and the ones who do live here are silent. I haven’t heard so much as a ringtone since I moved in, never mind a double bass.
Not only is it quiet inside the building, but, for some reason, even though we’re still in the city centre, it’s a completely different vibe outside. Where I lived before, I was surrounded by life. Activity around Leeds Playhouse, BBC Yorkshire, the bus station, a bingo hall, restaurants… it was always alive outside. Here, the only thing consistently alive outside is the river, and the noise of the water is so gentle and relaxing. I think it acts like white noise, drowning out any irritating sounds. I feel as if I’m living inside a relaxation app.
Not only is this place more peaceful, but it’s far more comfortable too. I love working at Millsy’s big desk, sitting in his ergonomic desk chair, drinking coffees from his fancy machine. And he’s actually out this morning, for some kind of work meeting, so I have the place completely to myself.
I’ve done my washing, ironing, and tidied my things away. Everything in my room is in place now – I’m actually starting to feel at home here, although weirdly I’ve felt this way since the first night I slept here. With the room nice and tidy again, it’s time to get some work done.
I’m currently designing a jungle-themed escape room, drawing up blueprints, plotting out the route participants will take through the three rooms it is set inside.
I drain my cup and stretch my back before picking up my pencil and getting back down to work. Right on cue my phone rings.
‘Hello, Mum,’ I say brightly as I answer. ‘Having a nice day?’
It’s Wednesday which means it’s my mum’s day off. She usually spends it with her friends and then calls in the evening for a long chat.
‘I’m about to be,’ she says. ‘I’m outside your flat. Thought I’d pop to Leeds to find some shoes for Flora’s wedding. Fancy helping me?’
‘Oh,’ is about all I can manage to blurt.
‘Sorry, are you busy with work? I should have called first.’
When you work from home people often think that you can just stop what you’re doing and do other things whenever you feel like it. Luckily, because I’ve been getting so much work done here, I actually can.
‘No, no, it’s not that, I’d love to go shopping with you,’ I insist. ‘It’s just that, erm, I don’t live there any more.’
‘You moved?’ she replies in disbelief.
‘Erm, yes. I suppose I would have told you this evening when you called me.’
I mean, I like to think I would have, but there must be a reason, other than just being busy, why I haven’t told her yet. Perhaps it’s because my roommate is a man – maybe I’m worried she’ll be worried about me, or, even worse than that, that it might get her hopes up.
‘OK, are you far from here?’
‘Not at all,’ I tell her. ‘Do you want to pop in?’
‘That would be nice,’ she tells me. She’s being polite but now I think she feels as if she needs to scope this new place out. ‘I was going to drag you straight to the shops, but I’d love to see the new place.’
I give my mum directions to where I am now. It shouldn’t take her much more than five minutes to get here. Just enough time for me to tidy away my work and run a brush through my hair. It turns out that very long hair is very hard work. Most days, if I have nowhere to go, I just pile it up in a bun on the top of my head.
I walk out onto the terrace just in time to see my mum taking in her surroundings outside.
‘Oi, Mum,’ I call out. I don’t think I’ve ever sounded more northern.
‘Cara!’ she calls back. ‘Look at you up there! Hello!’
‘I’ll buzz you in,’ I call back.
I’m quite excited that my mum has turned up. I t
hought today was going to be otherwise uneventful (and life does seem to be a bit more eventful for me at present). It will be nice to go shopping, have lunch, have a chat.
‘Oh, Cara, wow,’ she says as she twirls in the centre of the open-plan living space. ‘Haven’t you gone up in the world!’
‘I’m technically on a much lower floor than I used to live,’ I joke. ‘But I take your point.’
‘I invited your auntie Mary to join us today – imagine her face, if I’d brought her here!’
‘She said no, I take it?’
‘She did.’ My mum sighs. ‘You know what she’s like.’
‘I do. I don’t know why you try so hard with her.’
‘Oh, you know. She’s my sister. I know she’s not very nice but she’s the only sister I’ve got.’
My mum says this so casually. I guess my auntie has always been quite cold and stand-offish. If she’s always been this way I suppose my mum is just used to it. I appreciate her realistic approach to the complexities of families. Life isn’t a movie. You’re not always going to like the people you’re related to, and you’re probably never going to have some big meaningful moment when things change. Sometimes horrible aunties are just horrible aunties. I have a lot of respect for my mum, though, for always trying with her no matter what.
‘Oh, look at this kitchen,’ my mum says as she runs a hand across the black worktops. ‘Stunning! Have you had a pay rise or something?’
‘I haven’t… I’m sharing the place with someone else.’
‘Oh, really? Well, that will be nice for you, living with someone else, sharing the costs.’
‘Yeah, definitely. He owns the place, pays all the bills, and so on. The rent on my room is so much cheaper than I was paying for my flat in the City Heights building so it just made sense.’
‘He?’ my mum says.
Wow, nothing gets past her, does it? She was like this when I was growing up too but luckily, back then, I was just as boring as I am now. I never really got in trouble. Neither did Oliver. I would say they were lucky, to have a boring puzzle-nerd daughter and a woke feminist son, but it’s probably not luck – I think they just did a good job raising us.
‘He?’ my mum prompts again.
The Plus One Pact Page 11
