‘That’d be far too lenient,’ Nicky says. ‘His pain will be over like that.’ She clicks her fingers. ‘I’d start with his balls and work upwards. Make him suffer.’
This raises the tiniest of smiles from Victoria, who proceeds to wolf the remainder of the plate of biscuits.
‘I feel a bit sick.’ She pushes the plate away and puffs out of her cheeks. ‘I think I’ve just eaten a week’s worth of calories in one hit.’
‘Calories don’t count when you’re heartbroken,’ Nicky says as I gather the empty dishes. ‘Everybody knows that. It’s why I eat like a pig but never put on weight.’
‘Oh, God,’ Victoria moans and I expect her to hurl on the table, but instead of turning green and puking, she smirks at Nicky. ‘Does this mean I have to become a serial dater like you?’
‘Oi!’ Nicky attempts an affronted look, but she doesn’t have enough conviction to pull it off and shrugs instead. ‘I suppose you will. Do you want any tips?’
‘No thanks.’ Victoria’s glum look makes a comeback. ‘I’m never going near a man again. They’re all pigs. Selfish, walk-off-into-the-sunset-without-you pigs.’
None of us can disagree with Victoria. I’m still smarting from Joel’s cruelty, Mags is a stereotypical ex-despising divorcee and Nicky has been messed around by more men than the Grand Old Duke of York marched up that hill.
‘What we need is a night out,’ Nicky says. ‘We’ll all go out for a drink tonight and diss the male species until we feel better.’
‘Don’t you have a date tonight?’ I ask as I head across the teashop with the dirty dishes.
‘I’ll cancel,’ Nicky says. ‘My girls need me and I’m not really into LonelySwimmer578 anyway. He’ll only break my heart in the long run.’
‘Yeah, let’s go out and get hammered.’ For the first time since her arrival, Victoria looks genuinely cheered. ‘I’ll go home and get changed and meet you back here in time for the teashop’s closing.’
‘You don’t have to go home,’ I tell Victoria. ‘You can borrow something of mine.’
‘No offence,’ Victoria says with a tone that sounds very much like I’m about to get offended. ‘You’re taste is a bit … girlie.’
I look down at my outfit. Today I’m wearing a pink-hearted apron over a pair of skinny jeans and a pink short-sleeved blouse, with a pair of sparkly pink ballet pumps to finish off the look. Definitely on the girlie side, but I’ve been labelled as far worse things.
‘I’ll be back soon.’ Victoria pushes her chair back and gives a wave before she strides out of the teashop, head high despite the grey patch of mascara still clinging to her cheeks.
‘I guess we’re going out for a drink then,’ I say, turning to Mags. I’m not nearly as repulsed by the idea as I thought I would be. In fact, it sounds fun. ‘Are you in?’
‘Why not? I can’t stay long, though. I need to get the kids fed.’
‘Great.’ I carry the dishes through to the kitchen and fill the sink with hot, soapy water. I’m elbow-deep in suds when my mobile starts to vibrate from the front pocket of my apron. I give my hands a quick wipe before answering, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder so I can give my still-damp hands another wipe.
‘I thought of the perfect name,’ Caleb says in a rush, his voice high and excitable. ‘I was tidying away a few things in Cara’s room and I found one of her books and it came to me.’
‘How did you get my number?’ Caleb has rung my mobile rather than the teashop’s phone, the number of which I haven’t given him.
‘Nan gave it to me,’ Caleb says with a sigh. ‘But you’re missing the point. I’ve thought of the perfect name.’
‘More perfect than Cake And Dates?’ I tease.
‘A million times better.’
‘Go on.’ I lean against the kitchen counter, preparing for the heralded news.
‘So, the book. It’s a children’s book based around different kinds of kisses.’
‘What, like French kisses?’ It sounds a bit dodgy for children’s reading material to me. ‘Pecks on the cheek? Soggy doggy kisses?’ This is actually quite fun. I wonder how many more types of kisses I can think of …
‘No, not quite like that.’ Caleb sighs again. ‘I’ll show you the book some time so you can see. My point is the name.’
I stand up straighter. ‘Tell me what it is then so I can judge how perfect it is.’
There’s a pause on the other end of the line. Caleb, the great big drama queen, is adding a bit of tension. ‘How about calling it “The Sweetest Kiss”?’
‘The Sweetest Kiss?’
‘It ties in with your teashop, which is all things sweet,’ Caleb says, his words gushing out now in his eagerness to explain. ‘And the name Sweet Street Teashop, plus it has an added dating touch. The Sweetest Kiss. What do you think?’
What do I think? I think I’m excited. I think I want to dance around the kitchen like a loon. I think I would quite like to shower Caleb McIntosh with kisses – although purely through gratitude, you understand.
‘I think it’s perfect,’ I tell Caleb. ‘I think we have our new name!’
Chapter Seventeen
Nicky heads back to the salon as she has a client due for a bikini wax (ouch), but she promises to meet us back at the teashop for our girls’ night out. The remainder of the afternoon is quiet in the teashop – surprise, surprise – so time drags until it’s time to close up. Victoria returns, having washed her face and reapplied her make-up, focusing mostly on black eyeliner. She’s changed into a non-girlie outfit of black pleather leggings, chunky, calf-length biker boots and a black, off-the-shoulder T-shirt with a silver skull printed on the front.
Victoria was right; our styles don’t match up at all.
‘Do you want to come up to the flat while I get changed?’ I ask when Nicky joins us again. After the bikini wax (ouch), she locked up the salon for the day before nipping home to change. She’s now clad in a purple dress with matching heels that are so high and needle-thin, they make my eyes water just looking at them. Her curls are wild and loose and although her make-up is natural, I know it’s taken her an age to perfect.
‘Do you have wine?’ Nicky asks.
‘Of course. I wouldn’t dream of inviting you up without a bottle chilling in the fridge.’
Nicky grins at me. ‘Then lead the way.’
After making sure all the lights are switched off and the doors are locked, we troop up the gloomy staircase to my flat. Nicky has been up here a gazillion times but this is a first for Mags and Victoria. I’m suddenly aware how small and uninspiring the place is. Having lived here for a year, I’ve grown accustomed to the tiny room proportions, the lack of natural light through the doll-house-sized windows and the mismatched furniture that I sourced from car boot sales, Freecycle and a skip sitting three doors down from Dad’s house.
‘Are you kidding me?’ Victoria asks when I point out the flat’s flaws, just to make sure they know I’m aware of its downfalls. ‘I currently share a house with my ex-boyfriend and two ex-bandmates. My accommodation is pants. I’d take this place in a heartbeat.’
‘And my house is overrun with teenagers,’ Mags adds.
‘Overrun?’ I ask as I lead the way to the living area. ‘You have two sons.’
‘Yes, but they have friends.’ Mags drops down on the sofa with a weary sigh. ‘Lots and lots of friends.’
‘And I still live with my mum and dad,’ Nicky points out as she drops down next to Mags. Victoria takes the armchair while I pop into the kitchen for a bottle of wine and four mismatched glasses. Nothing in the flat matches, it seems.
‘Is Nathan definitely your ex?’ I ask as I pour the wine.
‘Yes.’ Victoria presses her lips together and I suspect the tears are about to make a comeback but she seems to rally quickly. ‘I can’t believe he’s done this to me. I’ll never be able to trust him again.’
‘How are your living arrangements going to work out?’ Mags asks. ‘You
can always come and stay with me if it’s too awkward.’
‘Thanks, but I’ll be staying at my sister’s place until I sort myself out.’ I carry the drinks through to the living room and Victoria takes one gratefully. ‘She doesn’t know it yet though. She’s on holiday so Mum’s got her spare key so she can feed the cat.’ Victoria reaches into her bag and produces a set of keys. ‘Which I now have.’
‘Won’t she mind when she comes home to find you squatting?’ Nicky asks as she takes a glass of wine from me.
‘Nah.’ Victoria takes a huge gulp of wine, chugging back half the glass in one go. ‘She owes me one anyway. Do you know how many boyfriends I helped smuggle out of the house when we still lived at Mum and Dad’s? Too many to count. She’s all respectable now with her husband and kids, but she was a bit of a minx back then.’
‘I think we’d get on,’ Nicky says, raising her glass.
I hand Mags her glass of wine before heading into my bedroom to change. What do you wear when you’re coming out of a broken-heart-induced hibernation? I suppose my jeans are okay for an evening in the pub, so I just swap my blouse for a black halter neck top and my ballet flats for a pair of wedged sandals. I pull my hair out of its band and run a brush through it before applying a touch of mascara and lip gloss.
‘I feel underdressed,’ Mags says as I emerge from the bedroom.
‘Don’t be daft.’ I pick up my untouched glass of wine and take a sip. ‘You look as gorgeous as ever.’
‘I look like a mum.’ Mags looks down at her jeans and checked blouse combo.
‘You are a mum,’ Nicky points out.
‘But that doesn’t mean I have to feel like one.’ Mags finishes off her glass of wine before holding up the empty glass. ‘But this is certainly helping.’
‘Wait until we get a few cocktails down you,’ Nicky says. ‘You’ll feel fantastic.’
‘No, no, no.’ Mags shakes her head. ‘I’m staying for one drink and then I have to get home.’
Mags is on her third passion-fruit daiquiri. She’s ditched her checked blouse and is gyrating to ‘Mustang Sally’ in her spaghetti-strapped vest top. Her kids, she says, are old enough to sort their own tea out. If she carries on mothering them – ha! Smothering them, more like – they’ll end up as idle as their dad. All Mags’s words, obviously. And slightly slurred.
‘Oh, I love this song.’ Mags throws her arms up in the air as the jukebox moves on to Deee-Lite’s ‘Groove Is In The Heart’. She sings along, only pausing to take the odd sip of her cocktail until her glass is empty.
‘Same again?’ she asks, still bopping away to the music.
‘It’s my round,’ Victoria points out but Mags is having none of it.
‘You put that purse away, sweetie. I’ve been where you are – though I was older and not nearly as pretty – and do you know what the best thing my friends did for me was?’
‘Put a brick through your ex’s window?’ Victoria suggests, which makes Mags giggle.
‘No, but I wish they had.’ She shakes her head. ‘No, they took me out and got me drunk, good and proper.’
‘It looks like you’re already there,’ Nicky tells Mags, who giggles again.
‘You’re probably right. I don’t get out much. So.’ She claps her hands together. ‘Same again?’
‘If you insist.’ Victoria drains her bottle of lager and stands up. ‘But at least let me come to the bar with you. You look like you might need propping up.’
Mags and Victoria meander their way to the bar, leaving Nicky and I alone at the table.
‘How did LonelySwimmer take it when you cancelled your date?’ I ask her.
‘Pretty well. He called me a prick-teasing bitch, but he was fine other than that.’
I tut and give Nicky’s arm a squeeze. ‘It’s no wonder he’s so lonely if that’s his attitude.’
‘What kind of a username is LonelySwimmer anyway?’ Nicky asks. ‘It makes him sound like spillage from a bloke with a low sperm count.’
‘A wonderful image.’ I pull a face. ‘It’s no wonder I’m in no hurry to start dating again.’
‘Are you going to put that on the poster for your dating service?’ Nicky teases.
‘I thought about it, but I don’t think there’ll be room.’
My eyes move towards the pub’s door as it opens, admitting a couple of blokes who are clearly here to work on their impressive beer guts. Both are in their mid to late forties, though one has a full head of hair while the other has only managed to cling on to a greying band stretching from one ear to the other with a shiny dome on top. One of the blokes – the one with the hair – says something to Mags and she throws her head back and roars with laughter. The sudden movement causes Mags to stumble and she has to cling on to the bar to prevent herself from hitting the deck.
‘What was in those cocktails?’ I ask Nicky as Mags waves away assistance from the two blokes.
‘Nothing out of the ordinary,’ Nicky says. ‘I’ve had the same and I feel fine.’
‘I think you have a higher tolerance.’ I drain my glass as Mags and Victoria return with a fresh round of drinks. Mags places Nicky’s daiquiri on the table and takes a sip of her own.
‘This is my last drink, okay? As soon as it’s gone, you’re to kick me out of here in the direction of home.’ She takes another sip of her drink, her eyes widening as the jukebox track changes to a Take That song. ‘This is the best song ever. I need to dance. Hold my drink.’ Thrusting her drink at me, Mags moves to a small space free of tables and chairs so she can wriggle around.
‘Drunk Mags is fun,’ Nicky says before she jumps up to join in with the sing-and-dance-along. I take a sip of my own drink – a white wine spritzer. Some of us have to be up at the crack of dawn for baking duties in the morning. I glance at the pub’s doors again. We’re in The Star Inn, a pub a short walk away from Kingsbury Road. It isn’t the pub where Nicky and I ran into Joel – I made sure of that.
‘You don’t have to come in tomorrow,’ I tell Victoria as I tear my eyes away from the door. ‘I’ll manage on my own.’
Victoria shakes her head. ‘Thanks, but I’ll only spend the day plotting grievous bodily harm if I’m not occupied. Or worse – I’ll resort to cleaning my sister’s house.’
‘Fair enough.’ I get it. I was the same after Joel. Part of me wanted nothing more than to sink underneath my duvet and wallow, but after a few days, I realised it was only making me feel worse. That’s when I took action and decided to get back in control of my destiny and launch myself feet first into my dream business. It hasn’t been plain sailing, but at least I’m giving it a go and not hiding under the covers.
My eyes wander to the doors as they open. A young couple head to the bar, laughing at some joke or tale.
‘I really thought this was it, you know,’ Victoria says so quietly I have to lean in to hear. ‘And not just the band. I thought Nathan was The One.’ Victoria rolls her eyes and snatches her bottle of lager from the table. ‘That’ll teach me to believe in such crap.’ She takes a swig of her drink and turns to me. ‘Do you believe in The One?’
I shake my head and pick up my own drink. ‘I used to. Not any more.’ I catch Victoria’s eye and I can see the moment she gets it. I’ve been where she is, hurt and betrayed. We could use this moment to bond, to throw our arms around each other and swear allegiance to the sisterhood. Instead, Victoria being Victoria, she clinks the neck of her bottle against my glass.
‘Men are shits. Let’s not go there again.’
‘Deal,’ I say just as the door opens and Caleb steps into the pub.
Chapter Eighteen
Caleb raises his hand in a wave before he weaves his way around a cluster of tables and chairs to join us. I can’t help noticing how good he looks in his ripped skinny jeans – and how ridiculous it is that I find him attractive in ripped skinny jeans when I usually (silently) mock blokes who wear them.
‘Caleb! Hi!’ I leap out of my seat as he approaches and f
ling my hand out at him. ‘How funny to see you here!’
Caleb takes my hand gently, giving it an almost imperceptible shake. ‘Yes, I suppose it is.’ He has a frown on his face and I can’t blame him since I invited him to join us when he phoned earlier. It only seemed polite after he made such a brilliant suggestion for the dating service, but I haven’t mentioned it to the others as I’ve basically hijacked our girls’ night by inviting a couple of boys. Because – yes, here he is now, making his way over – I’ve invited Neal too. I didn’t want it to seem like I was asking Caleb out on a date and Neal has been a big help too.
Nicky, seeing her beau has arrived, abandons her tipsy jukebox-jig and races over, almost breaking her ankle on a stray stool en route.
‘Hello,’ she trills, the wide smile on her face belying the pain she must certainly be in. I can practically see her ankle throbbing between the straps of her super-high shoes. ‘Come and sit down.’ She hobbles to the nearest chair and drops onto it, stroking the worn seat of the empty chair beside her. She’s giving Betty Boop a run for her money as she pouts and wafts her lashes at Neal. My friend is a cartoon character come to life.
‘I’ll get the drinks in first,’ Neal says, somehow resisting Nicky’s caricature charms. ‘What’s everybody having?’
‘We’ve only just had a new round,’ I say, pointing at my full glass.
‘Mine’s empty.’ Mags, who has only just realised our group has grown, wiggles her drained glass in the air. ‘But I should be getting home. I have children. Big children. Who need feeding because they’re as bloody useless as their dad. You.’ She plonks the glass down on the table and points at Victoria. ‘You are a gorgeous, gorgeous girl with so much talent. So much talent! Tell her, Maddie.’
‘It’s true,’ I tell a bemused Victoria.
‘Tell her, Nicky,’ Mags instructs.
‘You’re gorgeous and unique and Nathan is a pillock,’ Nicky says.
Mags nods along with each word before turning to Caleb and Neal. ‘Tell her, boys.’
‘I think that’s enough,’ Victoria says, holding up her hands. ‘My ego can’t take any more.’
The Little Teashop of Broken Hearts Page 12
