by Abigail Mann
‘I’m afraid that doesn’t quite cut the biscuit, Theo,’ I say with feigned confidence, despite being 99 per cent sure that I’ve mashed together nonsensical idioms.
‘Yeah, Elissa isn’t going to just let you buy her out,’ adds Suki. Ah, so that’s what it means! She flips open her iPad case and starts jabbing at the screen.
‘A consultant position could be really good for you,’ says Theo, widening his stance.
A sharp elbow jabs me in the ribs. ‘Ouch!’ Suki darts her eyes backwards.
‘Can you give me a minute, Theo?’ He puts his hands up in submission. Suki wheels me round and takes three long strides to the back of the marquee, where Jackson is licking icing from the catering table.
‘You don’t need him,’ says Suki.
I sigh impatiently and cross my arms. ‘I’m all for the strong single girls’ club, but have you seen him?’
‘Babe, go to town on his todge, that’s not what I’m saying. I mean you don’t need his money, or his contacts. Your email has been firing off all day with messages from the charity, and councils, and possible sponsors, all that shit. And, look—’ Suki taps through the app she’s used to collect donations. Holy shit.
‘It’s not mad money, but look at the pledges. You’ve got enough to do this again three times over, and if you get a good backer, which it looks like you will, you can do this on your own. Maggie agrees.’ I look up at Maggie, my oldest and most trustworthy friend. She nods vigorously.
I think of Annie. I look at her and Harold on the garden wall, oblivious to the fair packing itself up around them. I think of George and his purple cheeks, beaming at his scowling wife as she fills a jug with cut tulips. I think of the unfamiliar faces who were strangers until today. I think of all the times I’ve felt like my chest was made of eggshell. I think of the time I got two questions right on University Challenge and Annie poured me a brandy shot to celebrate. I think of my nanny. I think of the mornings I’ve sat on the tube, seen by everyone and no one.
I turn around and feel the slight touch of Maggie’s fingers on my shoulders, pushing me back towards Theo. I breathe in deeply. He looks up and his almond eyes are so mouth-wateringly gorgeous that my thighs feel weak.
‘Thanks for the offer. But it’s a firm no.’ Theo wrinkles his nose and bites his bottom lip. I see the beginnings of a defeated smile on his face.
‘I get it. Honestly? If I were you I’d be saying the same thing. I had to try, though.’ He holds out a hand for me to shake and I take it. ‘I’ll be looking out for you, y’know?’ he says. As his fingers slip away from mine, I tighten my grip and pull him closer to me.
‘Hey, Theo?’
‘Yeah?’
‘If you were wondering, I will go out for a drink with you.’
***
The sun tips the last of its amber light into the near corner of Annie’s kitchen by the time Evergreen falls quiet. I set my tea down and hoist myself up onto the kitchen counter. Beside me, strips of chicken, pepper, and onion sizzle in a skillet, the smell of paprika filling the kitchen. Having thrown a quilt over the two boys top-and-tailing on the sofa, Annie sits at the scrubbed dining table with Harold’s letters unfolded before her. When I tell her about Theo, she beams with eyes bloodshot from a day of jittering heartbeats and the half bottle of champagne we’ve drunk between us.
‘Think you can put up with me for a bit longer?’
‘If I have to,’ Annie says, her eyes crinkled. ‘You’re banned from baking owt, mind you.’ I slide off the counter and lift the skillet off the stove, ready to sit down to fajitas for two.
‘Deal.’
If you enjoyed The Lonely Fajita, follow Abigail Mann on Twitter @abigailemann, on Facebook @abigailemann, and check out her website at www.abigailemann.com for all the updates on her latest work.
You can also find us at @0neMoreChapter_, where we’ll be shouting about all our new releases.
In the mood for another laugh-out-loud romantic comedy?
Why not try Cow Girl by Kirsty Eyre, an udderly hilarious LGBTQ+ story of friends, family and four-legged beasts. Click here if you’re in the UK and here if you’re in the US.
Acknowledgements
Writing a book is an inherently surreal process. You spend so long stuck in your own head that the path can seem incredibly muddy, which is why I’m hugely grateful to Team Fajita, who lifted me up and pointed me in the right direction. To Hayley Steed, my brilliant agent, and the whole team at Madeleine Milburn, who understood what I wanted to do with Elissa and Annie’s story with exceptional clarity. To Tilda McDonald, for your keen editing eye and consistently brilliant suggestions. Here’s to more gossiping over white chocolate mash.
To Joe – Thank you for bolstering my confidence when it waned and for the pitching practice, cups of tea, and reminders to leave the house. You make my heart sing.
To Linford – For coming up with the wonderfully silly title for this book and all the pep talks along the way. Who knew that dancing in the kitchen and eating too many onion rings would produce so much creativity.
To Rachael – Sorry for eating all the snacks when I wrote at your kitchen table.
To Big Nan – There’s so much of you in this book, although even Annie can’t claim to have whacked a mugger off his bike with a two-pint carton of milk.
To Mum and Dad – For an unwavering belief that I would make a success of writing, especially when I struggled to believe it myself. Sorry for the times I spewed fire in response to you asking: ‘How’s the book going?’ and for keeping prosecco in the fridge for when things went well. Truly, I couldn’t ask for more enthusiastic, patient, and supportive parents. You’re bloody wonderful.
Libraries have been a consistent feature of my life and I want to extend another thanks to my mum for taking me there so often as a child, sometimes every day after school. Those early years nestled amongst the bookshelves heavily influenced the path that led to this point. Public libraries are sanctuaries for so many people and The Millennium Library in Norwich is where much of this book was written. Long may they live!
To my beloved Norfolk girls – Who knows what we’d have turned out like if we didn’t have each other? (Less weird, that’s for sure.) Thanks for the plot solving on WhatsApp, a lifetime of in-jokes, and the relentless joy you bring me every day. I love you all immensely.
To Sheffield – Thanks to the indomitable Team English at NDHS, for your enthusiasm at a very early stage when I was worried about the unknown. Also, to the students I taught, who are amongst the most creative and inspiring people I have met.
To the teachers who taught me, especially Miss Cooper, Miss Miras, and Mr Bishop – You’re partly to blame for all this.
To the Comedy Women in Print Team – Thank you for allowing me to see myself as part of the comedy scene at times when I was reluctant to do so. The community of funny women surrounding the prize is the best club I could have hoped to be a part of.
On to London, the grubby, wild, and gorgeous city I have come to love. My Fridays spent in the union of the IOE threw brilliant pals my way, especially Emily and Alice. If you see your influence in this book, it’s no surprise. Thanks for making me laugh until my sides hurt and for being unapologetically fierce, hilarious, and subversive women.
About the Author
Abigail Mann is a comedy writer living in London and surviving on a diet of three-shot coffee, bourbons, and vegetarian sausage rolls. She was born and brought up in Norfolk, which she says is to blame for the sardonic humour that runs through her novels. Abigail was the runner-up in 2019’s Comedy Women in Print award with The Lonely Fajita: her first novel.
Abigail takes inspiration from unconventional cross-sections of modern society and the impact this has on identity and the relationships we create. She wrote her first novel after teaching literature for a number of years and whilst working in the fast-paced co-working spaces of East London.
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