by Fiona Gibson
Granted it would have been nice to have a bit more to go on.
Of course, there’s the strong possibility that Tanzie might not even be in on a Saturday evening, and even if she is … well, she might not want to see me, as I never contacted her about the incident with Flynn. My stomach swills with something like anticipation, or sheer nerves, as I stand at the back door while Scout potters about on the grass. I call him in, apologise for leaving so abruptly, and set out into the warm August evening.
As birthdays go, it’s quite an unusual one, but my hopes seem to rise as I stride across town, carrying the flowers, which I have decided to leave on her doorstep if she’s not in. I have written a card and attached it to the wrapping: Hi Tanzie. I hope you and Kayla are settling into your new flat. I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. Quite a lot on. I just thought I’d drop by with these to say thank you for finding my dad’s watch. I’m amazed you did that for me. I’m also delighted to hear you passed your test! See – I KNEW you could do it. Love, Nate.
*
I know it sounds a bit stiff, but it was the best I could do. I’ve never found it easy to say the right words when it really matters. Maybe that’s been my problem, and also why my job is ideal for me: you watch, you make notes, you don’t have to say a great deal.
It takes a bit of wandering around to find Tanzie’s flat. When I spot the name MILES on one of the bells, I actually blurt out, ‘Yes!’ in delight.
I clear my throat and look down at the flowers. Is it presumptuous to show up like this, out of the blue? But I’m here now. I try the main front door, and it opens. I trot up two flights of stairs, trying to convince myself that this is a perfectly normal thing to do on a Saturday night.
On the top landing, I realise the flowers are dripping water through their cellophane wrapping onto the floor. A small puddle has formed at my feet.
I stand there for a moment, thinking: okay, just do it. Leave the flowers and run. A picture forms in my mind, of Tanzie and I laughing in that bizarre shop where everything seemed to be covered in ponies and guinea pigs. And that eighties night, when she bounced out of the loos in her Bucks Fizz outfit, ready to tank a fierce cocktail like it was Coke.
She’s probably not even in, I decide. She is single now. She’ll be out on the town, dancing and drinking, with her friends.
But then there are sounds on the other side of the door, and I flinch as it opens. At the sight of me, Tanzie seemed to reel back. ‘Nate?’ she exclaims.
‘Er, Tanzie, I hope it’s okay. I heard about your driving test – and the watch, my God, you actually went to Liv’s garden and found it for me …’ I tail off, realising I am babbling.
She looks down at the flowers and rakes back her funny purplish hair. ‘Wow. They’re pretty special. Who are they for?’
‘You, of course!’ I meet her gaze.
‘Really? That’s sweet of you …’ She pauses. ‘I thought I heard someone at the door. I assumed it was Kayla, forgotten her key …’
‘Well, no. It’s just me.’
Then she looks at me properly and smiles that huge smile, and it brightens up not just her face, but the whole stairwell – the whole town, it seems right now. I blink, dazzled for a moment, and she laughs.
‘I hope it’s okay,’ I add, ‘to just turn up like this—’
She shakes her head and then, remarkably, she reaches not for the flowers, but my hand. ‘Of course it is, Nate. So don’t just stand there. Aren’t you going to come in?’
The End
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Acknowledgements
Thanks to Caroline Sheldon, my brilliant agent, and to Rachel Faulkner-Willcocks, Katie Loughnane, Sabah Khan and all of the fantastic Avon team. Much love and thanks to Tania Cheston, for huge help with – and copious checking of – this novel; to Mary Fine for hilarious anecdotes that I had to steal; and to my dear anonymous buddy who gave me an insight into the mysterious world of the driving examiner. Huge thanks as ever to my beloved friends Jen, Kath, Cathy, Marie, Michelle, Wendy R and Wendy V, for encouragement every step of the way. Finally, love to Jimmy, Sam, Dexter and Erin for putting up with me, and for making everything worthwhile.
About the Author
Fiona was born in a youth hostel in Yorkshire. She started working on teen magazine Jackie at age 17, then went on to join Just Seventeen and More! where she invented the infamous ‘Position of the Fortnight’. Fiona now lives in Scotland with her husband Jimmy, their teenage daughter and a wayward rescue collie cross called Jack.
For more info, visit www.fionagibson.com. You can follow Fiona on Twitter @fionagibson.
By the same author
Mum On The Run
The Great Escape
Pedigree Mum
Take Mum Out
How the In-Laws Wrecked Christmas: a short story
As Good As It Gets?
The Woman Who Upped and Left
The Woman Who Met Her Match
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