by Lindsey Kelk
‘Oh, come on.’
It was short-sleeved, v-necked, and bright pink. And if that wasn’t enough, on the front of the shirt was a crude drawing of a cartoon parrot I didn’t recognize, bending over and showing the world his parroty arse with one wing pressed against his beak. Despite not being the one with a veterinary degree, and never having considered a bird’s arsehole before, I was fairly certain the drawing of the bird was not anatomically correct. What it was, however, was obscene. Without hesitation I pulled my other shirt out of the bin. Oil-stained shirt or pervy parrot T? It was a classic case of you’re damned if you do and you’re dressed like an extra from RuPaul’s Drag Race if you don’t.
It took me far too long to pull the trigger on the parrot shirt but after ten minutes of trying to wash oil out of cotton with hand wash, I gave up and went with the Italian job. Maybe Liv would think it was funny. Maybe I’d trip on the way upstairs and break my neck. Or as it turned out, when I finally got upstairs, I’d find Liv on stage beside her dad, with half a roll of toilet paper hanging out the front of her dress. And what a dress. I couldn’t remember seeing it before; there was significantly more cleavage than Liv was usually comfortable with, and while I was absolutely fine with it, I didn’t love the fact that everyone on the floor could see right up her skirt.
‘Dr Addison!’ Her dad raised his glass and everyone in the room did the same. ‘Our village vet.’
He was toasting himself? Well, that was a bit sad.
He stepped away from the microphone and joined in the rhythmic clapping that echoed around the room, his usually placid face flushed as he pointed at the front of his daughter’s dress. Liv turned her back to the room, flashing her knickers as she spun, and when she turned back around, the toilet paper was only just visible. Her giant left boob was a bit of a giveaway as to where she’d hidden it though.
‘Hello …’ Liv leaned right into the microphone. It squealed in protest and she jumped back. ‘Oh, bugger.’
There she was, love of my life, stuffing her bra and showing her knickers to the entire village. After the week we’d had, I couldn’t help but feel equal parts protective and amused but I knew she would not find this funny in the slightest.
‘This is not my dress,’ Liv stuttered into the microphone, with the same look on her face she’d had when I told her Tesco was out of Mini Eggs and they didn’t know if they’d be getting any more in. ‘This isn’t my dress. It’s my friend’s dress. It’s not mine.’
I saw Abi, her oldest and most hard-to-please friend, raise a hand and wave to the room while David, Liv’s nurse, clapped appreciatively.
‘Why is she talking about her frock?’ an old lady covered in dog hair whispered to another old lady covered in dog hair. ‘I don’t care about her frock.’
‘If she wore more frocks like that, our Paul might be more inclined to take the dogs down for their check-ups,’ her friend replied. ‘I hate those scruffy things girls are wearing today.’
‘I don’t think it’s a coincidence that she’s not married,’ the first one agreed. ‘Make a bit of effort dear, you can’t walk around all day looking like you’ve just got out of bed and expect a man to want anything to do with you.’
‘Excuse me,’ I said as I pushed my way in between their furry shoulders.
‘And don’t get me started on what they’ve got men wearing in this day and age,’ one of them whispered. ‘Look at that.’
‘Hey, this is designer,’ I replied, giving them both the glaring of a lifetime. ‘It’s from Milan.’
‘Should have left it there,’ the first cackled. ‘You look a right plonker.’
‘Yeah, well.’
Best comeback ever.
‘I’m not especially keen on public speaking,’ Liv was still talking on the stage, shuffling on the spot and clutching the microphone with both hands, ‘and this is all a bit of a surprise, I don’t know what to say.’
‘Thank you?’ called out one particularly unhelpful heckler.
‘Thank you, of course,’ she said quickly, pasting on what I knew was a fake smile and turning to her dad. ‘Thank you, Dad, you’re a brilliant vet and a brilliant dad and I don’t know what we’re all going to do without you.’
The room erupted in a polite smattering of not-drunk-yet applause. I’d missed something, clearly.
‘Adam, over here!’ I heard my mum hissing my name across the room and moved through the crowd, keeping one eye on Liv as I went. ‘That’s a nice shirt love, very colourful. What’s that he’s doing with his hand?’
‘I don’t know.’ I gave her a hug while my dad shook his head over her shoulder. He did not agree with my fashion choices but then he was in a suit and Mum was in a sari so it was safe to say he was always going to be the more conservative of the two. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Dr Addison announced he’s retiring,’ she said in her soft, scratchy voice. ‘And Liv’s taking over the practice. That’s exciting, isn’t it?’
I didn’t know if exciting was the word I’d choose. Liv hated surprises. An unexpected piece of sparkly jewellery attached to a marriage proposal was one thing, but something like this? She would hate it. I had to rescue her.
‘It’s all a bit much, isn’t it?’ Liv went on. ‘How can Dad be retiring?’
Oh wait, she wasn’t finished. Liv was a prize waffler when she was nervous. She began to walk up and down the stage, microphone in hand, toilet roll making a break for it once again.
‘And he’s giving me the surgery?’ She shook her head, sharing every thought that fell from her brain and out of her mouth with the entire village. ‘That’s a lot to take in; it’s a lot to think about. I’d literally just decided I’m going to Japan.’
‘What’s she on about?’ Dad asked as the natives became restless. ‘Japan?’
‘Oh, I’ve always wanted to go,’ Mum said, adjusting her sari. ‘Maybe we could all go together. Family honeymoon!’
Family honeymoon? Christ on a bike. I wondered how long it had taken Dad to tell her everything he had sworn that he wouldn’t.
‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ I told her, hurtling through the crowd and leaping onto the side of the stage in a single bound. Well, two single bounds. Two and a half, round the corner, and up the steps.
‘Liv,’ I hissed. ‘It’s OK, I’m here.’
‘What are you doing?’ she asked. Her hair was all piled up on the top of her head with those little loose bits hanging around her face. She looked perfect. Apart from the bog roll hanging out of her dress, obviously.
A murmur ran around the room and I asked myself the same question.
‘Nice shirt, Justin Bieber.’
I didn’t have to look to know the very helpful comment came from Abigail.
I pulled at the hem of my shirt. Every time I raised my arm, it peeled up over my stomach.
‘In case you were wondering, this isn’t actually my dress.’ Liv walked away, ignoring me. ‘And yes, I’m going to Japan. I’m not sure when.’
I stared up at her as she made her speech, no idea where it was going. It was just like the end of Dirty Dancing only a thousand times more shit. Someone really needed to put Baby in a corner.
‘But still, never mind what I might have planned, Dad’s retiring!’ The microphone screeched with feedback. ‘I mean, who doesn’t like massive, life-altering surprises chucked at them during family functions? And—’
The speakers on either side of the stage screeched into life and ‘Congratulations’ by Cliff Richard boomed through my bones as a swarm of red balloons and glittery streamers fell from the ceiling much to the delight of, well, no one.
Liv looked at her dad with an expression I couldn’t remember seeing on her face before, then dropped the microphone and rushed down the stairs, pushing me out of her way as she went.
‘Liv out!’ David ran up the staircase and put the screeching mic back on its stand, saving everyone’s ears. ‘Give it up for Dr Addison!’
‘What were you doin
g?’ Liv asked, wild-eyed. ‘You totally distracted me.’
‘I did or my T-shirt did?’ I replied, looking down to meet the parrot in the eye. ‘Because there’s such a good reason I’m wearing this, trust me—’
‘I think I want to leave.’ She cut me off, looked me in the eye and then nodded. ‘Sorry, Adam. Not now.’
‘Then when?’ I was starting to feel very slightly annoyed. I’d gone through hell and high water to get to the party on time, I’d tried to show my support and now she was mad at me? ‘You’ve got to talk to me sooner or later.’
‘No she hasn’t,’ Abi interjected, swooping an arm around Liv and whisking her away. ‘She’ll tell you when she’s ready.’
I was very glad Liv had good friends who loved her, but at that moment, I would have happily seen Abigail Levinson elsewhere. And that was putting it politely.
‘Cool T-shirt, bro,’ David said, giving me a thumbs up and quickly waving his mobile phone in my face. ‘You don’t mind if I Snapchat it, do you? Thanks.’
And before I could say otherwise, all three of them were gone.
10
I didn’t bother turning on the living-room lights. Instead, I walked directly to the kitchen, opened the fridge and pulled out the half-empty bottle of white wine, pouring myself a full glass in the yellow half-light. Daniel Craig looked up from his prawned position on the settee and meowed loudly, displeased at being woken from his rock-and-roll Saturday-night nap.
‘Sorry, DC,’ I said, closing the door and drinking my wine in reassuring darkness. ‘Don’t mind me.’
The cat gave a cursory squeak and settled back down on the settee, eyes darting around the room. It had been a confusing week for him and I was almost certain he did not approve of my presence. I was never home this often and he didn’t quite seem to know what to do with himself. Most of the time, I hung out with him during the day when he wandered into the surgery to taunt the in-patient cats in their cages, but this week he’d been treated to almost full five nights of me huddled under a blanket at two a.m., unable to sleep and binge-watching reality shows while intermittently sobbing and stuffing my face. Less Netflix and chill, more Amazon Prime and Kill Yourself.
I wandered over to the settee and sat down beside the cat as my eyes adjusted to the dark. Resting my head backwards, I stared up at the ceiling, focusing on a great big crack running from the outside wall all the way over to the light fixture in the middle of the room. How long had that been there? I’d really let this place go. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d decorated. Wait, had I ever decorated? I’d painted three different rooms in Adam’s house over the last twelve months and I couldn’t even remember the last time I bought toilet paper for my own home. Thankfully, my bra was currently full of it.
But then, I realized, when I was spending my days of decorating Adam’s house, I had thought it was our house. I was decorating our home, for our family. Now I was lying on the settee with Andrex spilling out of my dress and staring at a crack in my knackered ceiling. How wrong could you be?
On the coffee table, my phone started ringing.
I stared at Adam’s name and a picture of a panda holding a machine gun that accompanied it. Without moving, I sipped my wine and waited for the call to end. As quickly as the screen went dark, it lit up again. He wasn’t going to give up.
After one last large gulp, I put down my wine and picked up the phone.
‘Hello?’
‘Liv?’
‘Adam?’
I mean, who else did he think it was?
‘Are you at home?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ I said, kicking off my shoes and walking up and down the living room. ‘I’m home.’
‘None of your lights are on,’ he replied. ‘Not to sound like a stalker or anything.’
He was outside. I padded through to the bathroom and peered out of the window.
‘Can I come up?’ he asked.
I stared out into the yard. It was dark but not quite dark enough for the security lights to turn themselves on. Regardless, Adam and his neon T-shirt were easy enough to spot. He gave a small, contained wave.
A car went past, its headlights highlighting his profile more clearly.
‘Liv?’ he called. ‘Are you there?’
‘Yes,’ I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me.
‘Can I come up? Or can you come down? I need to see you.’
I pressed my fingertips against the window and shook my head. If I went downstairs and he said he was sorry, I would forgive him and he would kiss me and we would pretend the whole thing never happened. It was what he expected me to do; it was what everyone expected me to do. But it had happened, and if I let this go now it would eat away at me forever. Abi was right. I’d been coasting, waiting for Adam to propose, trotting on with the surgery without thinking about the future, and look where it had got me. Things had to change and they had to change now.
‘No,’ I said clearly, surprised by the strength in my own voice. ‘You’ve had all week to come and talk to me, and instead you sail into my dad’s birthday party, wearing god knows what, and expect me to fall into your arms? One minute it’s radio silence and the next it’s everything’s OK? Didn’t you want to break up with me four days ago?’
‘I tried to explain,’ he replied, the hint of a whinge in his words. ‘That was a mistake.’
‘Mistake or not, it still happened,’ I said, turning away from the window and perching on the edge of the bath. ‘I don’t know what was going through your head when you said you wanted a break in the first place but it doesn’t matter any more. I can’t pretend I’m not thinking about it.’
The bathroom window was still open and Abi’s dress was nowhere near enough protection against the cold. Goose bumps shivered all the way down my arms and legs and I heard Adam’s pace quicken below.
‘I know I cocked up,’ he was talking fast, tripping over his words as he spoke, ‘I know I did. It was stupid, I got in my head about nothing and I’m sorry. I know what I want now, I don’t need a break, Liv, I don’t want a break.’
‘That’s great,’ I said. ‘But maybe I do.’
I held the phone steady between my shoulder and my ear and, resting two fingers on my wrist, measured out my pulse while Adam breathed heavily down the line. It was faster than it needed to be but it was steady. That was something.
‘I feel like I’ve forgotten what I want,’ I said, trying to explain to him and myself at the same time. ‘In fact, I’m not even sure if I ever knew.’
‘I can help you with that,’ he assured me. ‘You want a Terry’s Chocolate Orange, an early night and two sugars in your tea. Occasionally you want to eat an entire tuna and pineapple pizza even though everyone knows it’s disgusting.’
‘It’s not disgusting, it’s delicious,’ I said with a laugh that turned into a sob. Now I wanted a pizza as well as someone to make all my major life decisions for me. This was what I missed – the fact that he knew my disgusting secret eating habits and thought it was OK. Well, maybe not OK, but forgivable. What if we broke up and the next man refused to let me have tuna and pineapple pizza in the house? Unthinkable. ‘I just need some time. I want to figure everything out in my own head and I can’t do that with you around.’
‘I don’t understand,’ Adam said. I could tell he was frustrated and part of me hated him for it. He’d bloody started this, after all. ‘Is this about your dad? Have you suddenly decided you don’t want to be a vet or something?’
‘That would be mental,’ I replied immediately. ‘What kind of person wakes up and decides to completely change careers?’
‘Point taken,’ he said curtly. ‘So, what do you want? What can I do?’
‘I wasn’t having a go at you,’ I replied, even though I clearly was, just a little bit. ‘Yes, Dad telling me he’s retiring has thrown me but it’s not just that. I need time and you can give me that.’
I could hear all the different replies ticking over in his head. Adam w
as a practical, logical man who hated to lose an argument. Even though he had decided not to become a lawyer, there was no doubt in my mind he would have been a great one. I knew how hard this must have been for him, asking him to walk away from an argument he couldn’t understand or have any hope of winning.
‘So, that’s it?’ he asked. His voice sounded so much further away than he really was. ‘We’re done until you say otherwise?’
‘I’m not breaking up with you,’ I replied with closed eyes, biting my lip so hard, I was certain I’d soon taste blood. ‘I’m trying to explain to you I need to work some stuff out on my own. Not necessarily us stuff. Life stuff, everything stuff.’
I wished he would go away and let me sleep on everything going on in my head. This was too much to deal with in real time; even I didn’t really understand what I was saying so how could he be expected to follow?
‘Liv, if you want to punish me for the other day,’ his words came quickly and his footsteps stopped right below the window, ‘let me tell you, this week and this bloody T-shirt have done the job for you.’
‘It’s not that,’ I said, uncertain but determined. I would not be swayed; I would not be a walkover. ‘I’m not punishing you, this is about me.’
‘That old chestnut,’ he almost laughed. ‘It’s not me, it’s you?’
I smiled weakly into the phone. Why was this so hard? It was the right thing to do, I was sure of it.
‘Sorry to be such a cliché,’ I replied. ‘If I don’t work this out now, I never will and everything just keeps happening and one minute it was Christmas and then it was summer and now—’
‘Liv,’ Adam interrupted, ‘have you met someone else?’
‘No,’ I replied quickly.
Why would he think that? Why would he think that? Unless he had met someone else? ‘Have you met someone else?’
‘No, of course not,’ Adam said, just as fast off the mark. ‘OK, you want some time. How long is this going to take?’