‘We probably should have rung Felicia in case she’s planning to eat at a specific time,’ she said as they walked up the narrow concrete path to her parents’ house.
Rufus laughed and pulled her towards him. ‘Darlin’, you know Felicia never does anything at a specific time. The seven o’clock start is just your dad’s wishful thinking.’
That was true. Her stepmum might be the sensible one, but her Caribbean roots made her oblivious to clocks. She’d been over an hour late for her own wedding. Scarlett’s dad nearly had a breakdown, but really, it was an honest glimpse into their future together.
Just as Scarlett was about to use her key, her mum, Julia, yanked open the door. ‘You’re late.’
A normal person might wonder why Julia would answer her ex-husband’s door instead of Felicia who was, after all, his own wife. A normal person might also find it odd that she was there at all, given that she’d chucked Scarlett’s dad out of the marital home when Scarlett was still in nappies.
‘Were you curtain twitching?’ Scarlett asked her mum. ‘Blame Rufus for us being late.’
‘Way to throw me under the bus, thanks,’ he answered. ‘Sorry, Julia. It smells great!’
‘No thanks to me. Felicity is doing the cooking. Come here, my baby girl.’ Julia gathered Scarlett up in a tight hug. ‘You too, son-in-law, even though you made my daughter late. Again.’
Rufus moved in for his hug.
Scarlett had to admit her family had an unusual arrangement, what with her mum and her stepmum getting on so well. It did need explaining to outsiders, though mostly by Gemma. She didn’t have an easy title to use for Scarlett’s mum, Julia, who wasn’t her step-anything, but her dad’s first wife who wasn’t jilted for his second wife (because that was always the follow-up question).
‘Dad, you finally got the shelves fixed!’ Scarlett exclaimed when she saw them. The living room was lined on three walls with floor-to-ceiling oak bookshelves. It was either cosy or claustrophobic depending on one’s feelings about living in a library. Scarlett loved it.
Her dad glanced up over the top of the journal he was reading in his chair. ‘Looks nice, doesn’t it? I’m thinking of shelving over the doorway so I can run a model train round the room. I just have to figure out the corners.’
‘I didn’t know you were into model trains,’ she said.
‘New hobby.’
There always seemed to be one, which was part of the reason her mum had divorced him. ‘I had two children,’ she liked to say. ‘Your father always made a wonderful project. He just turned out to be one I didn’t have time to take on.’
Scarlett’s dad didn’t take it personally. He hadn’t been overly keen on marrying his pregnant girlfriend in the first place so he could hardly be sorry about unmarrying her.
Besides, it all worked out for the best. Felicia was all the proof needed that there was someone in the world for everyone. She loved Dad’s impulsiveness and refusal to act like an adult unless he absolutely had to. She was happy to be the rational one in the family.
Gemma popped her head in from the kitchen. ‘Right, Dad, but if you’d cleared two of the walls instead you could actually hang some artwork up, or get another sofa.’
Gemma didn’t inherit the rest of the family’s comfort with clutter.
‘Want a drink, Scarlett?’ she asked.
‘Wine, please.’
‘Want a drink, Scarlett?’ Gemma whined at the same time as Rufus.
‘Snap!’
‘You two are better than French and Saunders. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.’
Gemma and Rufus grinned at each other.
‘Jacob’s on call?’ Scarlett asked.
‘Yeah.’ Gemma grimaced. ‘These weekends are killing him.’
‘He’s not actually working,’ Scarlett teased. ‘He’s quite a lazy doctor, if you must know. He told me he naps in the janitor’s cupboard when he thinks no one is looking for him. And I’m sure he makes up his patient notes.’
‘You’re such a dick,’ Gemma said.
‘Who’s a dick?’ Felicia asked, handing their dad a glass of water. ‘Drink this, William. You’ll get dehydrated.’
William obediently sipped his water. Then, noticing that they were all staring at him, he muttered, ‘Dehydration.’
‘Dehydration?’ Rufus asked his father-in-law as Scarlett threw herself into her stepmum’s arms. ‘Have you been ill?’
‘No.’ William rolled his eyes. ‘But Felicia claims that dehydration’s a risk for the over-fifties.’
‘I don’t claim it.’ Felicia kissed William on the little bald spot on the crown of his head. ‘The medical profession says it’s the case. I don’t want to have to sleep with a wrinkled old raisin. That’s not sexy.’
‘Ugh, Mum, do you have to!’ Gemma covered her eyes.
‘Oh, Gemma, don’t be such a prude,’ Felicia said in her sing-song Scots-Caribbean accent. ‘Where do you think you came from? Under a cabbage leaf? There’s nothing wrong with having sex. We even still do it, you know.’
Julia caught the tail end of Felicia’s comment. ‘Better you than me,’ she muttered.
William shook his head. ‘Thank you, Julia, for turning my brief moment of virility into a reason for pity.’
‘No problem,’ she said. ‘It doesn’t mean I don’t love you, William, I’m just glad I’m not the one having sex with you.’
Scarlett did used to wish her mum would find someone special like her dad had, but she’d always seemed perfectly happy on her own. Whenever Scarlett tried to bring it up, Julia told her to worry about her own life.
And by the time she'd slurped up the last of Felicia’s spicy creole stew that’s what she was doing. Because Rufus’s weirdness wasn’t just her imagination.
Normally a simple question would have a simple answer. Say a question like: Have you booked your anniversary holiday yet?
Rufus stared at his plate. Scarlett listened to the silence where their celebration was supposed to be. ‘Not yet, Gemm,’ she finally said. ‘We’re still working out the dates.’
But after drinks the other night, Gemma was on the alert. ‘Right. You are still planning to go, though?’
Scarlett nodded. ‘Oh, yes, definitely. It’s just the dates we’re not sure about yet. We’re definitely going back.’
She’d met Rufus on a dive holiday on the other side of the world. It was proof that holiday romances did sometimes work out.
‘Good, because it’s a big anniversary. Five years!’ Felicia seemed oblivious to the tension at the table. ‘How wonderful, going back where you first met. It’s a kind of anniversary for all of you. Gemma, you should go, too.’
Everyone stared at Felicia.
‘Gemma should come on our anniversary?’ Scarlett asked.
‘Well, because she was with you when you met Rufus. You met him together. What? Too weird?’
‘Yes,’ the sisters agreed.
‘I’m just glad you didn’t meet an Aussie bloke and stay out there,’ said William as he helped himself to another spoonful of stew. ‘Either of you. It’s too far away.’
Rufus nodded. ‘It is far. And I’m really busy with work right now. I’m not sure if I can get away for that long.’
‘You mean when,’ said Gemma.
‘Hmm?’
‘When you can get away. You said if.’ Her green eyes bore into his.
‘It just might not be a good time, that’s all,’ he murmured.
Gemma let it drop, but Scarlett couldn’t. Otherwise their anniversary would come and go in a few months, and their relationship may have come and gone, too.
Put your big girl pants on, she scolded herself on the way home. With hardly any traffic on the back roads between her dad’s house and theirs, it would be a quick twenty-minute drive. Not much time to discuss an entire marriage.
‘Rufus? That was nice, wasn’t it?’ she said when he reached for her hand in the car, like he almost always did when they drove togethe
r.
‘It’s always nice to see the family,’ he said. ‘Felicia makes a mean creole.’
‘Wasn’t it funny when she suggested that Gemma come to Australia with us?’
She cringed as she said it. She could practically hear the gears grinding as she changed the topic.
Rufus had the good sense to keep quiet.
‘Maybe we could look at a refundable trip,’ she soldiered on. ‘Something we could book provisionally? We could change it if you’ve got to work. Couldn’t we do that?’ She hated the wheedling tone in her voice. She hated having to wheedle at all. That was supposed to be what other people did.
Rufus squeezed her hand. ‘I just don’t want you to be disappointed, that’s all.’
‘Oh, but I won’t be!’ she lied, seizing on the small step forward. ‘I’ll completely understand if we have to postpone.’ Postpone. That was better than cancel. ‘Let’s just look at getting something in the diary. Okay?’
‘Yeah, of course, okay,’ he said. ‘It’s not that I don’t want to go, Scarlett, I really do. It’s just that I don’t want to disappoint you again.’
She wasn’t about open the door to that conversation. Again. ‘You won’t disappoint me.’
‘It’s kind of you to say that,’ he murmured as they turned into their drive.
Well, what else was she supposed to say? That she was afraid he was right?
Chapter 5
Rufus set two lurid green drinks in front of Shannon while business types milled around their table in the crowded bar. He only liked this place because it reminded him of the shitty pub where they always drank in college. The clientele were different, but the décor was the same – dark wood, dark drink-soaked carpet and dark thoughts. It was as claustrophobic as being inside a whisky barrel. Exactly the same reason Shannon didn’t like it. It was remarkable how two people could remember shared experiences so differently.
‘Shots, seriously? What’s got into you?’ Shannon said when he’d perched again on the high stool opposite her. ‘There’s no way I’m drinking that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it looks vile. And I’m not sixteen.’ Plus, she’d never been good at holding her drink. That was Rufus’s territory. She played designated public transport navigator on their nights out.
‘It’s not even really a shot, Shann, just something they’re giving out at the bar. It’s happy hour.’
‘If ever there was a better reason not to drink it…’ she said.
‘Suit yourself.’ He downed both drinks with a very badly-acted look of satisfaction. He could have drunk washing-up liquid and he wouldn’t have let her see him gag.
‘Gonna have another?’ she teased.
‘I wouldn’t want to be greedy. Save some for the others.’
‘That’s very generous of you.’
‘You know me.’
She did know him. That’s why she knew something was up, despite his denying it every time she’d asked him. ‘How’s work?’
He peered at her. ‘You never ask about work. Are we finally becoming those friends who have nothing left to talk about?’
Of course not. Just the opposite, actually. They had everything to talk about, and had done since they were seven. Even the humiliating stuff was fair game, like the time he got crabs at uni or when she failed her driving test for the third time.
So why did she get the feeling he wasn’t playing by their usual rules?
‘I’m just trying to narrow down the options,’ she said. ‘Since something is obviously bothering you. Is it not work, then?’
‘Jesus, Shannon! All I want to do is have a nice relaxing night out with you. It doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong. Don’t you ever just want to have fun?’
As she was someone who constantly worried about being a bore, his words stung. ‘Sorry if you’re not having fun with me.’
‘No. No way,’ he said, possibly louder than he meant to, since a few people turned to look. ‘Don’t you dare pout. You know that’s not how it works with us. I have to be your girlfriend and advise you on guys and nail varnish and shit and you’ve got to be my mate. That means no emotional blackmail. That’s our deal.’
She smiled. He was right. That was exactly how it worked with them. They shared everything, honestly and without agenda. That’s probably why it had worked so well for twenty-five years.
‘Have you talked to Mr Darcy yet?’ he asked.
She knew he was changing the subject, but she let him. ‘Not yet.’
‘You know, I’ve been thinking about this. Is he even real?’ His blue eyes bore into hers. ‘You could be making him up to keep us from going on at you about dating. It’s a possibility, right?’
One imaginary boyfriend when you’re thirteen and you’re never allowed to forget it. ‘It’s not a possibility, Rufus. And obviously it doesn’t work because you are going on at me. Besides, why would I make up someone that I’m not talking to?’
He considered that. ‘It would be a pretty shit alibi, that’s true. Then if he is real, but you’re not talking to him, you should find someone that you will talk to.’ Shannon’s heart leaped into her throat when he turned around to scan the bar. ‘I can be your wingman.’ He looked her up and down. ‘You don’t look so bad tonight.’
‘You flatterer.’ It was his way of geeing her up, but she knew her shortcomings, and not in that faux-modest bullshit way from the films. There was no amazing transformation when she took off her glasses, shook out her ginger hair or painted her pale face. She was no ugly duckling waiting to be a swan. Her brother had dubbed her Meccano – it was thanks to that lifelong hang-up that she wore only dresses and bunchy cardigans. She hoped they helped camouflage her flat chest and bony arms.
‘Go on, pick someone and we’ll go talk to him together,’ Rufus said.
‘Great idea. He’ll think we’re after a threesome.’ The last thing she wanted to do was to try to flirt in front of Rufus.
‘Come on. We used to do it,’ he said.
‘And that worked so well,’ she snapped. She couldn’t really blame him for the fact she’d had exactly one boyfriend since leaving uni, though she definitely blamed him for not telling her the guy was a complete knob as soon as he’d realised it. It would have saved her a lot of arseholery.
She knew people met in bars all the time, but just the idea made her want to throw up. Even if she could bring herself to walk up to a stranger, she’d never find anything interesting to say. She’d only slink away after a few seconds.
Almost everyone she knew had an opinion about her relationship status. They seemed to have new ideas all the time about what was wrong. Implication: with her. It might come from love, but it was still frustrating having to listen to it.
She should try meeting friends of friends, they said. Well, yes, okay. So where were they? Advice was plentiful. Actual flesh-and-blood dates, not so much.
She couldn’t include her art degree course friends in the rant going on inside her head, since they didn’t know many eligible men who weren’t interested in other eligible men. ‘It was different at uni,’ she said. ‘It was easier.’
‘Everything was easier.’
It might be happy hour all around them, but the mood at their table had turned. ‘You okay?’ she asked.
His normally playful expression was drawn. ‘I was just thinking. Do you ever wish… do you ever wish you weren’t a grown-up?’
The question implied she was a grown-up in the first place. She didn’t feel like it. Maybe because art school was letting her live in a kind of adult limbo. Maybe because she walked dogs for a living and had flatmates who were students, too.
‘Imagine living without the pressure,’ he went on. ‘You know, buying the house, getting the mortgage, having the job that actually matters and someone else depending on you.’
‘Rufus, it sounds like you’re having a midlife crisis.’
‘I’m thirty-two.’
‘Quarter-life crisis?’
She nodded and sent him off to the bar for more drinks. Great, thanks Rufus. Way to put your friend in an impossible position. She couldn’t talk to Scarlett now that he’d explicitly asked her not to say anything. But what if there was something wrong and she kept quiet when she could have helped? Having husband-and-wife besties wasn’t easy. She was constantly at risk of being the messenger with a bullet in her head.
Chapter 6
Scarlett heard a key in the lock as she was checking for her Oyster card. ‘Rufus?’ she called just as the sound of Fred and Ginger’s jingly collars reached her ears.
‘Nope, it’s just me,’ Shannon called back as she unhooked the dogs’ leads.
She was being daft. He never came home that early. She had Rufus on the brain. ‘Come here, you dogs,’ she said.
They threw themselves at her legs, wriggling their warm bodies against her shins. Shannon kicked off her shoes and followed them into the kitchen.
‘Were they good?’ Scarlett asked.
Shannon smiled. ‘Perfect, as always.’ With a deft flick of the wrist she spun her long ginger hair into a bun on top of her head, using a few of the strands to tie up the rest.
‘You’re so biased,’ Scarlett said. ‘I know they’re not angels.’
Shannon knelt down on the lino to scoop up the dogs. ‘I think they’re angels, don’t I, dogs? Don’t I?’
Fred and Ginger were madly in love with Shannon. Of course they were. She got to be the fun auntie who never scolded them.
Love is a Four-Legged Word: The romantic comedy about canines, conception and fresh starts Page 4