The Plus One Pact

by MacIntosh, Portia

  29

  When I moved out of my parents' house it wasn’t because I hated living with them. I was working in Leeds, commuting every day, and it just felt like the right time to grow up and go out into the world on my own.

  There were things that I missed about home. Not just the obvious things, like how much cheaper it was, and how much easier life was when I had my parents to ask for lifts. I’m talking about things like my mum’s cooking. Having someone to watch The Great British Bake Off with over cups of tea – and cake, obviously, because the biggest mistake you can make is to watch that show without something sweet to tuck into. I missed my dad’s cheesy dad jokes and having my brother around to play co-op video games with. So, after monumentally blowing things with Millsy, I decided the best thing to do was to move back in with my mum and dad, not only to give myself a little time to figure out what to do next, but to enjoy all those little bits of home I’ve missed since moving out.

  What I hadn’t realised, though, is that it’s impossible to move back home because once you move out you forget all of the things that annoyed you about living at home. You only remember the good.

  When I lived on my own I didn’t have to answer to my parents. There was no one asking me where I was going, no one knocking on my bedroom door on a morning to tell me I’m sleeping in. I didn’t have to ask my mum if she’d been in my room and taken all my knickers to wash. No explaining what a Mooncup is to my dad when he goes looking for mints in my handbag instead of my mum’s. You know, stuff like that.

  And, of course, the yucky icing on the worst cake I’ve ever eaten is that Lloyd, my ex-boyfriend, is turning up today. He’s staying with my parents for a couple of days in the run-up to Flora’s wedding, which, yep, he’s still invited to. I really, really hoped that this was all just hot air, to teach me a lesson for not dieting into a bridesmaid dress, but, nope, it’s still happening. I haven’t told anyone that Millsy probably isn’t coming to Flora’s wedding now. Mostly because I don’t want to admit that I’ve managed to fuck things up – after all, he was only going with me in the first place so that I could save face. If I tell people he isn’t coming I’ll lose face, I guess. I can’t afford to get into negative face right now. Maybe I’ll just tell people that he’s ill on the day.

  Another thing I hadn’t realised about Lloyd’s arrival was that my mum had been banking on letting him stay in my room. Yep, my childhood room, which is a weird place to imagine your ex-boyfriend hanging out, but it’s also kind of funny because they wouldn’t let him in there when we were together.

  But, you know, he’s a guest, as my mum keeps reminding me. I'm genuinely being demoted to the sofa for the four nights he’s staying here. As far as my mum is concerned I’m just here in the run-up to the wedding, to be on hand to help if anyone needs/trusts me, to spend time with family members who are visiting for the occasion. She doesn’t know that I don’t want to go home to my own bed. I certainly hope she doesn’t think that I’m here because I want to be close to Lloyd.

  It will be fine though. At least I’m sleeping on the sofa in the conservatory, so I’ll have my own space.

  ‘Lloyd should be here any second,’ my mum says. ‘Ted, Ted, get that vacuum back out. You’ve missed a bit of Shake n’ Vac.’

  My dad waits until my mum has dashed upstairs for something before rubbing the offending powder into the carpet with his foot. He gives me a wink.

  ‘That’ll do,’ he says.

  My mum has us all lined up at the bottom of the stairs like the von Trapp kids, in anticipation of Lloyd’s arrival. The good news is that she has me, my dad and my brother here. I honestly believe that she doesn’t see Lloyd as an extension of me any more, and I don’t think she wants me to get back with him. She just sees him as someone who she’s known for a long time, but also as a house guest. We always treat house guests with the utmost respect.

  A knock at the door has my mum rushing downstairs, giving the already over-dusted bannister one final sweep with her sleeve.

  ‘Lloyd, hello,’ she says as she opens the door. ‘So lovely to see you, after all this time.’

  I brace myself for the blast from the past that I know has been coming for months and yet I still don’t feel quite prepared for it, but as Lloyd walks through the door it isn’t like seeing a ghost, it’s like looking at a whole new person.

  ‘Lloyd?’ I squeak. It sounds more like a question than a greeting. I can’t quite believe it’s him.

  ‘Hey, Cara,’ he says in his Somerset accent – so he still sounds like himself at least.

  ‘You look so different,’ I blurt.

  ‘So do you,’ he reminds me.

  Oh, yeah, so I do. The last time Lloyd saw me my hair was shorter, blonde, and I was probably dressed as if I were going to a smart-casual funeral. The last time I saw Lloyd he was skinny, with a floppy fringe that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Justin Bieber back when he was still wholesome. He isn’t so skinny any more though, he’s put on some weight, but it’s clearly muscle, not fat, and he’s rocking a buzz cut. He used to look kind of wimpy – now he looks like someone you’d see in an advert trying to get young people to join the army.

  ‘It’s lovely to see you,’ my mum says. ‘Come in, let’s get you a cup of tea.’

  ‘You too, Annie,’ he says as he kisses my mum on both cheeks. ‘I prefer to drink black coffee these days.’

  ‘Well, let’s get you a black coffee, then,’ she says. ‘Shall we sit in the kitchen?’

  ‘Let’s do it,’ he says enthusiastically.

  My parents and Lloyd disappear into the kitchen, my mum and Lloyd chatting away like old friends.

  Oliver and I just stand in the hall.

  ‘I thought he was supposed to be obsessed with you,’ Oliver says.

  ‘I know,’ I reply.

  ‘He barely looked at you,’ Oliver points out.

  I noticed that, obviously. Not only did Lloyd not seem like his usual clingy self, he seemed completely indifferent towards me. I thought the only reason he was coming to Flora and Tommy’s wedding was to try and get back with me, and that the reason I hadn’t heard from him in all this time was because the last time we spoke was when we broke up and he exploded with rage at me – I figured he was probably too upset to talk to me. Have I really just not heard from him because he’s over me? Is he really just here because he feels as warmly towards my family as they do towards him?

  ‘Reckon I can go back to my room?’ Oliver asks.

  ‘Yeah, definitely,’ I reply.

  ‘Oh, can I get Millsy’s number?’ he asks.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Can you give me Millsy’s number, please? We said we were going to play FIFA one evening but we forgot to swap PSN names.’

  ‘Oh, OK. Sure. I’ll send it now.’

  Speaking of men feeling indifferent towards me, I haven’t heard a peep out of Millsy since Ruby’s wedding so that’s that, I guess. Perhaps I should spend a little of this free time I’ve got at the moment looking for somewhere new to live. It really was tremendously stupid of me to give up my flat to move in with him. I don’t think he would throw me out, but I can’t bear the idea of living with him now that things are so messy. Oh, what I would give to have my small, impossibly noisy flat by the bus station back.

  With Oliver heading back up to his bedroom I decide to go to the kitchen. Now that Lloyd is here, and he’s seemingly indifferent about my existence, I’m fascinated by him. I broke up with him for being overly possessive and incredibly jealous and here he is, just chilling. I can’t get my head around it.

  When I arrive in the kitchen there’s no one there. The only sign of life is the kettle boiling, so they must have been in here.

  ‘Hello, love,’ my mum says as she comes in from the back garden.

  ‘Hello,’ I say cautiously. ‘Where’s Lloyd?’

  ‘He’s outside chopping wood with your dad,’ she says very matter of factly.

  ‘Lloyd is chopping wood?�
�

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Like… with an axe?’

  ‘No, with a butter knife. Yes, with an axe, Cara,’ my mum jokes.

  ‘Why?’ I blurt in disbelief.

  ‘We thought it might be nice to sit around the fire pit tonight,’ my mum says. ‘You’re welcome to join us, obviously.’

  ‘Yes, obviously I’m allowed to join my parents in my family home in anything,’ I say, moody teenager style, as I head towards the sink to look out of the window above it.

  Sure enough, my dad is lining up pieces of wood for Lloyd to chop in half. He swings down with the axe, hacking each piece clean in two. He stops for a moment to wipe his brow with the back of his hand. As he looks over towards the house I panic that he can see me watching him so I duck down.

  ‘Isn’t he handsome now?’ my mum says.

  ‘Erm… I don’t know about “handsome now”,’ I reply. ‘He’s certainly a lot more rugged.’

  ‘Not your type, then?’ my mum says.

  ‘No, is he yours?’ I ask, only half serious.

  ‘Your dad is my type,’ she says. ‘Lloyd is like a son to me, you know that. Joe, on the other hand…’

  I notice that she’s getting ready to take the drinks out to the manly wood-chopping men.

  ‘Yeah, he’s a babe, everyone thinks so,’ I reply quickly. ‘Can I carry the drinks out?’

  ‘Erm, sure,’ my mum says, placing the two cups of coffee down on the worktop for me to pick back up.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t fancy him still?’ my mum asks.

  ‘I’m just intrigued by him,’ I admit. ‘He seems so different.’

  ‘Go have a chat with him,’ my mum suggests. ‘We’ve been talking a little, when we’ve been planning his trip, and he seems a lot more chilled out than he used to be.’

  ‘Coffee’s up, boys,’ I say as I walk outside.

  ‘Oh, thanks, love,’ my dad says.

  ‘I thought you were more of a milky tea man,’ I point out.

  ‘Lloyd recommended the black coffee,’ he replies before leaning in close and lowering his voice. ‘Did your mum put three sugars in it?’

  ‘Yes,’ I whisper back through a smile.

  I turn my attention to Lloyd right as he whips off his T-shirt, like something out of a Diet Coke advert.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you use a tool,’ I joke to him. He just smiles at me.

  ‘I do lots of stuff now that I probably wouldn’t have done when we were together,’ he replies.

  I rock my head from side to side thoughtfully.

  ‘I don’t think I ever stopped you chopping wood,’ I say.

  Lloyd gets back to his chopping.

  ‘So, have you been well?’ I ask.

  ‘Yes, thanks,’ he replies. ‘Doing great, eating cleaner, working out more. Are you well?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m great, thanks,’ I reply. ‘Still working in the same place, living in Leeds.’

  I can tell he doesn’t seem at all interested in anything I have to say.

  ‘Anyway, I’ll get back inside,’ I say. ‘Leave you men to being manly.’

  I wander back inside and chat with my mum about wedding logistics while I watch my dad and Lloyd being blokes in the back garden. My dad always used to say that Lloyd wasn’t a very manly man; I guess he’s changed.

  I wonder why Lloyd doesn’t want to talk to me. I was honestly terrified he was going to try and get back with me, but this is so much worse. I feel so awkward. I feel as if I need to overcompensate by being nice to him but it’s like talking to a brick wall.

  At this rate, I am going to be alone at Flora’s wedding. Millsy won’t be there, Lloyd won’t be talking to me – I’m sure I’ll still be persona non grata, probably for a while after the wedding too…

  How hard do you think it will be to find a date for the wedding, last minute? I could try and find one on a dating app, maybe? Perhaps I could sit in a bar, pretend I’ve been stood up and hope that another Millsy type takes pity on me and comes to my rescue? Maybe I should just post an advert on a job-search website looking for someone willing to take on the role as my plus one, for the experience. Hmm, maybe that last one sounds a bit too much like something out of a bad romantic comedy.

  Well, with only a couple of days to go, I’d say I’ve probably run out of time. I’m just going to have to suck it up and go alone and, if all else fails, at least I know how to sneak out of a wedding now.

  30

  I’ve never really given much thought to karma.

  Sure, I believe that we should treat people in the same way we would like them to treat us, but that’s more of a transactional agreement. Karma is a little bit more like: do good things and good things will come to you, right?

  Well, whether I believe in karma or not, I figured it wouldn’t hurt me to try and get a little of the good stuff coming my way, and, even if it isn’t real, at least I’ll be buying myself a favour with my cousin.

  Flora’s friend Emmie, who was supposed to be putting together her party favour bags, has had to abandon her wedding duties to fly to Florida to visit her sick grandma. Naturally Flora is really upset. Not because Emmie’s grandma is ill, although I can see why you might think that. No, Flora is upset because this means that there is no one to put together her party favours.

  So, knowing how mad everyone is at me, I saw this as my chance to try and turn things around, and do you know what? It’s worked. Flora and Auntie Mary are so relieved that I’ve agreed to do it that they actually had smiles for me when they dropped the stuff off for me to use. Flora even gave me a hug! And there was no mention of my hideous portrait of Flora, so I’m hoping that saving the day, the day before the wedding, makes us even.

  It isn’t easy being a hero though. Oh, no. I’m currently sitting at the dining table at my mum and dad’s house surrounded by boxes of different bits and pieces. I take an item from each box, place them inside the little silver bags, tie the little silver bags with blue ribbon, and then I place the correct number of bags in the vases that are going to be placed in the centre of each table, but each table has a different number of people sitting at it, and the kids’ bags have different contents, so this is honestly a fucking nightmare of a military operation that I really don’t feel qualified for, but I said I’d do it, and everyone is happy with me for doing it, so I need to force myself to get on with it.

  I just need to look at it as if I’m in an escape room. It’s all numbers and puzzles and figuring out the right patterns. This is like a day out for me. In fact, with all the boxes in this room right now, just trying to climb over them to go to the bathroom would be like an escape room all of its own.

  ‘Hello,’ Lloyd says, sticking his head around the door.

  ‘Hi,’ I reply.

  He still isn’t really talking to me, other than in a general friendly acquaintance kind of way. I can’t get my head around it.

  ‘So you’ve landed party favour duties, huh?’

  ‘I offered,’ I tell him. ‘Flora seemed a bit frazzled and I wanted to lighten the load.’

  Lloyd moves boxes so that he can get into the room, so that he can sit down at the table next to me.

  ‘See, that’s not what I heard,’ he starts. ‘I heard you were trying to sabotage this wedding.’

  I look at him and realise he’s laughing.

  ‘My mum told you about the bridesmaid stuff, then,’ I say with a knowing nod.

  ‘She did,’ he says. ‘Absolutely ridiculous. They should have just had the dress altered.’

  ‘Thank you, rational person,’ I say.

  ‘And Oliver showed me the portrait you painted of Flora,’ he adds. ‘Just… awful.’

  ‘Well, this seems to have eased me back into their good books, and in a way that I can hopefully sustain throughout tomorrow, so no one can be salty about the bridesmaid business. It’s the best I can hope for.’

  ‘Well, can I help?’ he asks. ‘If it’s for the sake of the wedding, and for ke
eping the peace…’

  ‘Oh, are you sure you don’t mind?’ I ask.

  ‘Of course I don't mind,’ he replies. ‘It will give us a chance to catch up.’

  See, this seems more like the Lloyd I know, but the Lloyd I dated while he lived locally, not the possessive, jealous, immature boy who I tried to have a long-distance relationship with.

  ‘You seem good,’ I point out. ‘You seem really healthy and happy.’

  ‘I am,’ he replies. ‘I’ll admit, I didn’t take our break-up all that well, but I’m better for it now. I’ve actually been doing a bit of app dating recently.’

  ‘Oh, God, me too,’ I reply. ‘I actually gave up on it recently. The men on there are just all absolute nightmares. Are the women any better?’

  ‘I’ve been catfished a couple of times. It’s usually just photos with bodies cropped out or old photos taken when people were ten years younger. You know me though, I’m not superficial.’

  ‘Still, lies aren’t a great foundation to build a relationship on,’ I say.

  ‘That’s true,’ he replies. ‘Probably why things fizzle out. Your mum says you’re living with someone?’

  ‘Millsy, yes,’ I reply. ‘He’s just a friend.’

  ‘He’s your date for the wedding.’

  ‘He is,’ I reply. ‘Although he’s in LA for work at the moment. I’m worried he’s not going to make it back in time.’

  I’m pretty sure he’s back already, he said he was only going for a few days, but this could be my reason for him not turning up.

  ‘That would be a shame,’ Lloyd says. ‘I’d really like to meet him.’

  ‘You would?’

  ‘Of course,’ he says. ‘Everyone seems to really like him – you seem to really like him.’

  I must not say anything for a good few seconds because Lloyd senses something is up.

  ‘Cara, is everything OK?’ he asks.

  ‘Oh, yeah, it’s fine.’

  ‘Do you like him as more than a friend?’ he asks curiously.

  God, I feel as if he’s rooting around inside my brain, not the cardboard box he’s pulling little bags of sugared almonds out of.