‘Excuse me. May I sit here?’
The man next to me looked up. He smiled. ‘Did you follow me here?’
‘I tried.’
‘Did you do the dramatic chase to the airport?’
‘Yup.’
‘And when did you realise I’d decided not to get on the plane?’
I took a big bite of burrito and beamed at Jack.
‘About now?’
He pulled the burrito from my hands and lifted me onto his lap.
‘If you swallow that burrito, do you think we might kiss?’
‘I think …’ I paused to swallow, one finger in the air. ‘I think I’d like that.’ I wiped my mouth.
After a long, long time, I moved back to my chair, and kept going on my now-cold burrito.
‘This burrito is nice, but it’s no …’ I put my face close to his, so we were eye to eye, ‘beef wellington and chocolate mousse.’
Jack grinned. ‘How did you know about that?’
‘I like to spend my evenings going through the bins. That looked like a nice meal.’
‘It smelled like one too. Pity neither of us got to eat it.’
‘Why didn’t you say something?’ I asked.
‘I was trying to,’ Jack said, smiling. ‘And why didn’t you?’
‘Wait, I want to ask a different question: why didn’t you get on the plane?’
‘Because I knew you’d come running along begging me to change my mind and stay with you,’ he said, as I tried not to smile. ‘Ok, fine. That was my dream. But I knew that if I didn’t have you, there was no point making myself extra miserable with a job I hated too. They called me five times last night about a bonus scheme for the staff. Now you know I care about bonuses, but that’s not the life I want. I want to be designing, hands-on, talking to customers, not in meetings and offices and management sessions. Yes, I want to work abroad, yes, I want to live abroad – I just had a revelation that actually, this time, I didn’t have to go. I didn’t want to go. And definitely not without you.’
‘Can I ask another question? Why did you even think I might come running along begging you to change your mind and stay with me?’
‘I said it was my dream, didn’t I? Besides, there were hints.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like … you referring to this year of utter nightmarish hideousness as interesting. That’s your code word for utter nightmarish hideousness. And I realised then that if you’d found it that bad, you probably still cared about me. Just a little.’
‘Ha! Is that why you suddenly stormed out? I thought you’d lost your mind.’
‘I spent the entire evening at Iffy’s, raving that you still had feelings for me. I think he actually medicated me just to shut me up. Oh, and that time you stood outside my door shouting to your sisters how much you still loved me. That was nice.’
‘I knew you weren’t asleep! You bloody scoundrel. I wasn’t shouting, anyway. And I really did think you’d gone out.’ He smiled at me and we kissed again. I could get used to this. ‘I saw Upstairs Jan as I was headed here. She told me what really happened to my bag. Why didn’t you set me straight and tell me that it was nothing to do with you?’
Jack blushed. ‘Honestly? You didn’t really give me the chance. And we were in such a bad place, and I was missing you so much, and I could see it all falling apart … I just wanted there to be a reason for it to be going so wrong. It seemed easier to accept that everything was going to shit because I’d done something mean to you than to believe we couldn’t stop our relationship crumbling even if we wanted to. I sort of thought I’d actually done it, after a while. Plus, I liked the idea that I had a crack team of trained squirrels to do my destructive bidding.’
‘Upstairs Jan told me they’d seen the whole thing. I’m not saying they couldn’t have fashioned some kind of rope out of torn-up sheets and shimmied down to rescue that priceless fashion artefact – but I am saying that you should have told me. That I was so wrong.’
‘Zo—’
‘Wait. No. Sorry. I meant to say …’ I took a deep breath. ‘I meant to say that it was my fault. I got drunk, I left it out there, I blamed you, I didn’t listen when you tried to tell me, I stayed angry … It was one hundred per cent my fault. And I’m really, really sorry.’ I took Jack’s hand. ‘I’m sorry for everything. I should never have agreed to marry you.’
‘I’m sorry for everything too.’ Jack looked at me for a moment, smiling sadly. ‘I love you, Zo.’
‘I love you too, Jack.’
‘Really?’
I smiled at him. ‘Really.’
‘As much as before we got married?’
‘Really, really, really – even more. I didn’t appreciate how much I loved you then.’
‘I agree. We’ve kind of fucked this up, haven’t we?’
‘We sure have.’ But I was smiling more. ‘If you still want me, though, there are options …’
‘Are there now?’ His fallen face brightened. He began smiling too. ‘Still getting a divorce?’ His hand was creeping up my thigh.
‘Still getting a divorce.’ I leant over towards him, my hand sliding up his thigh too. ‘This marriage was never going to work.’
‘I think you’re right,’ Jack said, smiling a little more. ‘If there were ever two people who should never have got hitched …’ He beamed at me.
‘But do you know what?’ I kissed Jack. ‘I think we’re going to be very happy.’
THIRTY-EIGHT
This morning I woke up with a huge buzz, feeling so happy I thought I might pop. It was bucketing down outside, but Jack brought an umbrella to protect my killer new frock between our front door and the taxi taking us to the pub.
All our friends and family were there, everyone we needed, warming themselves beside the sparking January pub fireplaces. Liz and Adam were talking to Iffy’s new boyfriend, Ava was dancing with tiny William, and Mum was forcing more food on Jack’s stepmum. Kat showed us a website on her phone – apparently Chuck had gone back to California and set himself up as a motivational speaker. His ‘About’ page was simply a slow slideshow of the incomprehensible presentation he’d made to KSTW.
Food, done. Drinks, flowing. Music, about to be dimmed so Jack and I could make our speech. We’d ummm-ed and ahhh-ed about how to do it, but ultimately we thought that at our anniversary party, we could at least get everything cleared up in one fell swoop – although most people were baffled as to why we were having this party at all, given the year we’d had.
The DJ turned the music off. Jack and I stood up, and I tapped a glass.
There were fewer tears, shouts or questions than we’d expected when we announced our upcoming divorce and plan to remain together regardless. We both looked so happy, Mum said, why would anyone do anything but join the unusual toast. So it looked like the party was going to be fine.
Right up until the point that Jack broke the news to our guests that his company had offered him a new design role in their lead Berlin store, and he’d be coming with me – straight from the party, in fact.
Then the celebrations really kicked off.
Acknowledgements
As ever, to J, M, F and P, my magical gaggle of geese. To my breakfast crew, in particular Emma and Leonie, two of the funniest, smartest women I know. To all the childminders in my life, both professional and non-, you are amazing and wonderful and you keep humanity ticking over. Thanks to Rachael, for your firm tone and comfy typing chair. Thank you to my dear ma, for support, kindness, humour, and also for giving me the gift of life or whatever. Thank you all.
Thanks to Leonie, again, for answering all my hair questions; and to Paul Roberts, for answering all my legal questions. My many errors will be despite their wisdom and efforts. Thank you to the kind people of Twitter who answered my multiple – and apparently occasionally alarming – divorce queries.
Enormous thanks to the excellent Helen Huthwaite, for her editorial eye, great understanding and frankly infinite pat
ience. I owe that woman a medal of some sort. Thanks too to the rest of the Avon team, and to Emma Rogers for this beautiful book jacket. Oh, is that my music? Are you playing me out? Fine.
The writing of this book was sponsored by those enormous Cadbury’s bars with jelly beans in, very strong salt & vinegar crisps, bright pink Lidl donuts, gallons of coffee and, when I needed to face the outside world, lashings of MAC’s Ruby Woo lipstick. Goodnight.
LOVED SUNSHINE ON A RAINY DAY?
Then you’ll love these laugh-out-loud books
by Mhairi McFarlane.
About The Author
Bryony Fraser has written several books, none of which have been turned into Oscar-winning films, and makes a bolognese that would make the Pope weep.
She lives with her husband and children in a house which may or may not have a snail problem.
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
http://www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
2 Bloor Street East - 20th Floor
Toronto, ON, M4W, 1A8, Canada
http://www.harpercollins.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London,SE1 9GF
http://www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
195 Broadway
New York, NY 10007
http://www.harpercollins.com
The Starter Home Page 30
