Melt My Heart

by Bethany Rutter

  ‘Hi, I’m Tony, nice to …’ He trails off as he looks me in the face. The very profoundly, deeply unimpressed face. I can tell he’s turning it all over in his mind, the click of recognition, but from where?

  And that’s when it all falls into place for me. His not-very-visible profile photo. His wife saying he hadn’t been around much recently. He’s just a sad man who’s cheating on his wife, and of all the women in the world, he had to be cheating on his wife with my mum. What a way to kick off her online dating career.

  ‘Hello, Tony. I’m Lily,’ I say, evenly. ‘Nice to meet you.’ I see the penny drop; he knows exactly where he’s seen me before and he knows that I’ve seen him there too, and he knows, most of all, that I know he’s very much married.

  ‘Does anyone want a drink? Tony, what can I get you?’ my mum interjects, fortunately oblivious to the tension.

  ‘Uhhh …’ He snaps out of his trance. ‘Can I have a beer, please?’

  ‘Any preference?’

  ‘No, I’ll drink anything,’ he says, smiling weakly.

  And with that, my mum leaves the living room, and Daisy and I sit on the sofa while Tony (assuming that even is his real name, at this point, who knows?) goes to sit on the armchair where Crystal is stretched out on the top.

  ‘She won’t bite,’ Daisy says warmly when she sees him looking wary.

  ‘She means the cat,’ I say, drily.

  ‘Ha!’ Tony says, looking at me nervously, like I’m a ticking time bomb.

  We don’t have long until Mum reappears with his drink and says, ‘Your timing was spot on – it’s all ready now, actually, if you want to come through?’ She seems a little nervous, which is understandable. It’s not just the nerves of a new guy, but also the nerves of this being the first new guy in … well, a really long time. And in no time at all, this is all going to fall apart for her.

  We shuffle into the kitchen and sit around the small dining table. It’s weird to have four people sitting at it rather than our usual three. Mum elegantly carves the chicken and drizzles some sauce over the little pyramid of string beans already on the plate.

  ‘This looks wonderful, Lucy,’ Tony says, tugging at the collar of his shirt. As he does, I notice the tiny dent in his finger where his wedding ring would usually be.

  ‘Thank you,’ Mum says, a light blush appearing on her cheeks.

  ‘So,’ Tony says. He looks up from his plate. ‘Are you two girls going to become vets like your mum?’

  ‘No chance,’ says Daisy. ‘Too much interaction with bodily fluids for my liking.’

  ‘Yes, that is a rather important piece of the puzzle, one’s tolerance for things too indelicate to bring up over dinner,’ Mum says pointedly.

  ‘And what do you do, Tony?’ I ask. I’d hoped it would come out politely inquisitive but I fear from the look on my mum and sister’s faces that it sounded more like a challenge.

  ‘I … well, I’m a management consultant.’

  ‘And what does that mean?’

  ‘It means advising companies on how to do their work better for less money.’

  ‘So firing people?’

  ‘Lily!’

  ‘No, no, it’s alright … yes, sometimes it means that, but most of the time it’s just how to cut costs around the business.’

  ‘And you’re doing your consulting for a company based in Weston Bay? Is that right?’ I ask, cutting up some string beans and dragging them through the creamy, buttery sauce on my plate.

  ‘At the moment, yes,’ Tony says, and I’m sure I can see beads of sweat forming on his brow. He’s really not bad-looking: grey-black hair, tanned skin, big brown eyes, nice clothes. Probably chosen for him by his wife. I wonder what she’s up to tonight. ‘The Mrs’, he called her. I wonder if he even is a management consultant or if that’s a convenient explanation for why he’s not available all the time and why he would be staying in a hotel.

  I don’t say anything. Instead I smile sweetly and let someone else take over the conversation. I disappear into my thoughts, wondering what to do about the whole thing. Cassie stuff, uni anxiety, Cal guilt, it’s all feeling like a mountain on top of me. And now this! Having to figure out what to do about this. My chest feels tight.

  ‘Lily?’ Mum says, making me realize I haven’t been concentrating for a while now.

  ‘Huh?’ I reply.

  ‘Tony was asking what your plans are for next year,’ she prompts.

  ‘Oh, uh,’ I swallow. ‘An art history degree at Leeds.’

  ‘Wow,’ he says, smiling. ‘That sounds great. It’ll be good to have a change of scenery, a whole new start, won’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say, although even I know I sound unconvinced. ‘That’s what I keep hearing.’

  ‘Art history, that sounds fun,’ he continues.

  ‘I hope so,’ I say. ‘I’m not sure if it’s the right thing for me, but I’m willing to find out.’

  Before he can reply, my mum cuts in, frowning, her knife and fork poised to cut but now suspended. ‘What do you mean, not sure if it’s the right thing?’ I instantly know I shouldn’t have said anything.

  ‘Oh, no, nothing,’ I say quickly, shooting a glance to Daisy so she doesn’t unburden herself about my anxieties. ‘I just mean that maybe I would be better off focusing on painting, rather than theory, but I’m not going to change my mind now.’

  ‘OK …’ Mum says, looking a bit baffled and sceptical but aware that now isn’t the time, not while her new man is in the building. Even if her new man is a lying bastard. But I guess she doesn’t know that yet.

  ‘How about you, Daisy?’ Tony asks.

  ‘Daisy’s a science genius,’ I say, infused with a Rose family solidarity that supersedes our fight. And also in pursuit of some much-needed brownie points in preparation for when I expose Tony as a bad egg. ‘She’s going to do physics and probably change the world.’

  ‘Science isn’t the only way to change the world,’ says my mum. ‘I’m pretty sure art can do that, too.’

  ‘I guess,’ I say, shrugging. It’s hard to focus on the here and now when my brain is overloaded with the stress of knowing that Mum is an unwilling accessory to adultery. Part of me hopes I’m wrong, that I’ve misunderstood or misremembered something. But I know I haven’t.

  When we’ve finished the chicken, Daisy goes to use the bathroom while Mum is sorting out dessert. Tony and I sit in silence, glaring at each other across the table, almost daring the other to speak. I wait a moment before dashing upstairs, pretending I need my phone which I left in my bedroom. I stand on the stairs, biding my time, and then grab Daisy by the wrist as she emerges from the bathroom.

  ‘Ow!’ Daisy looks down at my hand and then up at my face. ‘What are you doing? And why are you being so weird this evening?’

  ‘I need to talk to you,’ I whisper. ‘Quietly.’

  ‘Ugh, what drama have you got going on now?’ Daisy asks dismissively.

  ‘It’s not about me,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘Come on.’ I drag her back up to the bathroom and lock us in where we won’t be disturbed, at least for a few minutes.

  I put the lid down on the toilet and sit on top of the seat. She sits on the edge of the bath, resting her hands on either side of her and stretching her legs out in front.

  ‘So?’

  ‘Have you noticed a certain tension between Tony and me?’ I ask, to see if it’s something our mum would have noticed too, or if I’ve been able to keep a lid on it.

  ‘Eurgh, gross, you haven’t been on a date with him as well, have you?’ Daisy asks, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

  I roll my eyes at her. Now is not the time. ‘I don’t mean sexual tension, you absolute fool.’

  ‘Well, no, either way, I hadn’t noticed anything.’

  ‘OK, good, that’s good,’ I say.

  ‘Again I ask you … so?’ Daisy says impatiently. ‘What’s the big problem? Why are we in here?’ She gestures wildly around at the bathroom.


  ‘The big problem is that Mum’s new man is very much married!’

  ‘No!’ Daisy says. ‘Are you sure? Like actually, really sure?’

  ‘Yes, I am really sure.’

  ‘You promise you’re not just making a fuss over nothing? She doesn’t need that right now.’

  ‘Oh my god, Daisy, I know that! I’m not trying to cause trouble! Of course I’m sure, I serve him most days at the ice-cream stand with his wife!’

  ‘Are you sure it’s him? The same guy?’

  ‘Yes I’m sure! He’s such a regular that we even have a nickname for him – he’s Señor Mango Sorbet!’

  ‘Well …’ Daisy shrugs, casting about for other options. ‘Maybe it’s not his wife?’

  ‘It is his wife! He literally referred to her as ‘the Mrs’! That’s pretty unambiguous.’

  ‘Oh, damn …’

  ‘And besides, he is being weird. He knows I know! When we go back downstairs, just look at his finger where his wedding ring should be. It’s got a little dent in it, you can see he usually wears a ring.’

  ‘This is so bad … I feel terrible for Mum already and she doesn’t even know …’ Daisy bites her lip.

  ‘We’ll get round to that later. I just had to tell someone so I didn’t go completely mad.’

  ‘Maybe she does know and doesn’t care?’ Daisy, with her rational, scientific mind, must be rattled if she’s coming up with a suggestion like that.

  ‘Come on, does that sound like Mum? Based on everything you know about her?’

  ‘Not really …’ Daisy mumbles. ‘No.’

  ‘No,’ I repeat emphatically. ‘This isn’t what she wants.’

  We don’t make our mind up about anything, but having told Daisy makes me feel better about the whole situation. I guess that’s what sisters are for. There it is, a little pang of regret at feeling distant from Daisy at a time when we need each other most. When we go back downstairs, it’s obvious that Mum and Tony were just making out, which is disgusting in its own right, not to mention an evident lack of remorse on Tony’s part about being a cheating scumbag. I’m not sorry when it’s time for him to go – fortunately there’s no discussion of him staying over. I bet he’s mad as hell about that, squandering his one evening a week of philandering.

  ‘So …’ Mum says, once he’s left. ‘What did you think?!’

  Daisy sighs and for a second I wonder if she’s going to tell her. ‘It doesn’t matter what we think! It’s you who’s going out with him!’

  ‘I know that.’ She bats away the idea. ‘But it’s important to me what you two think! You have good instincts about people. That’s one of the reasons I wanted him to come round. I trust your judgement.’

  ‘Well …’ I say, biting my thumbnail. ‘He seems OK, I guess.’

  ‘You don’t sound too enthusiastic …’

  ‘It’s not that,’ says Daisy. ‘I think we just need to get to know him better.’ That seems to satisfy Mum.

  In bed later that evening, just as I’m about to turn out the light, I hear a soft knock on the door.

  ‘Come in,’ I whisper, and Daisy enters in her pink summer pyjamas. She comes and sits on my bed.

  ‘What are we gonna do about Mum?’

  I sigh. ‘I don’t know … do you think we should tell her?’

  Daisy looks at me out of the corner of her eye. ‘So now you’re anti-secrets?’

  I choose to ignore that. ‘I’m worried she’s going to hate me for ruining everything if I do say something. I wish I didn’t know that guy, then none of this would be the big moral conundrum that it’s turned out to be.’

  ‘It’s not a great way to begin her dating life, is it?’

  ‘Good to know you care about that when it’s not to do with me,’ I say sharply. ‘But no, it’s not. I don’t understand why it’s so hard to just meet someone good and kind who’s crazy about you and you’re crazy about them and you can just enjoy the whole thing without all this drama.’

  Daisy’s quiet for a second, looking slightly confused. ‘But you have that, right?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You have that, with Cal, I mean.’ I’m taken aback by her sudden sincerity. I almost don’t know what to do with it.

  ‘Uh, yeah,’ I say instinctively, without wanting to linger too long on the thought. My phone vibrates and I see a text from Cassie, asking how tonight went. Where to start! ‘But back to Mum.’

  ‘Are you going to tell her?’

  A thought occurs to me. ‘He comes to the stand most days. If he does show his face tomorrow, I’ll tell him he has to end it with Mum. Although I guess I can’t really do that if Lady Red Plum is around …’

  ‘Who is Lady Red Plum?!’

  ‘Oh, sorry, I mean his wife.’

  ‘You’re so weird …’ Daisy mutters drily, but she can’t help chuckling.

  ‘If he doesn’t show up, with or without her, I guess I’ll have to tell Mum myself.’

  ‘Urgh, I hate this,’ Daisy says, shaking her head and getting up to leave.

  ‘Same,’ I say.

  ‘What’s that?’ Daisy asks.

  ‘What’s what?’

  ‘That,’ she says, pointing at the windowsill where my painting of Cassie rests against the glass, waiting for a purpose. I keep thinking about getting rid of it but something stops me. I instantly feel mortified that Daisy has seen it, like an X-ray of my insides. Just a portrait of Cassie, done in acrylics. Simple, face-on, from the shoulders up, wearing that vibrant purple lipstick that only looks good on her, a cream scarf with red polka dots tied in her hair like it was the first time we hung out after college. It is, unmistakeably, her. It captures her big, brown eyes. The glinting gold of her nose ring. Her apple cheeks, her dimples. There is no need to change her features or flatter her. She is perfect just the way she is.

  ‘… nothing.’ I answer, avoiding her eyes.

  ‘Not to inflate your ego but … it’s beautiful.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I’m lying awake on Monday morning, trying not to think about Señor Mango Sorbet, or Cal, or Cassie (who I forgot to text back last night amid the drama), or uni, or how mixed up I feel about, well, everything. It’s a good job I needed to wake up a bit earlier than usual today anyway, so I can have some time with Crystal before she returns to her real mum. I’m not surprised when I pad into the living room that Daisy is already there, stroking Crystal on her lap.

  ‘She’s a good cat, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘It’s no wonder her owner wouldn’t want to be without her.’ Crystal has jumped off Daisy’s lap and come to slink through my legs. I pick her up and hold her like a baby, kissing her on her fluffy head. ‘I’ll miss you, Crystal.’

  I carry her back to the sofa and sit next to Daisy, and Crystal stretches out across our laps. We sit in silence and stroke her.

  ‘You two can be so cute sometimes,’ Mum says when she comes in, holding a cup of tea.

  ‘Alas, I can’t stay here forever, I can’t leave Cassie hanging,’ I say, standing up while seamlessly trying to transfer Crystal to Daisy’s arms. ‘Crystal, you are a perfect cat, and I am so happy for you that you’re going to see your mum again.’

  I feel a little sad when I’m getting dressed, but I know it’s for the best. I wish Mum didn’t have this on her plate after work as well as whatever the Tony situation’s going to throw at her. When I head out, I blow a kiss to Crystal, and hug Mum, which is something I should do more often. In the few seconds I have my arms around her, I’m flooded with so many thoughts and questions. How would she feel if she knew about me? I don’t even know why I’m wondering about this, I know she would be fine about it, she wouldn’t even think twice. But I wonder if it’ll change how she sees me.

  Actually, getting dressed for work is a new challenge in itself. I wonder what I should wear for my first shift since … well, since I figured things out. I feel like I’m looking at everything through new eyes, and with this fresh perspective I
feel a not-so-strange motivation to look cute for work. Not just a T-shirt and jeans anymore. I throw on a short-sleeve shirt dress with bright brushstroke prints all over it. Cuter than usual.

  ‘Oh boy,’ I say to Cassie when I get to the stand. I try to pretend my heart isn’t racing and my mouth isn’t dry and that I feel totally fine seeing her. Her smile is dazzling. I just need to keep pretending everything’s normal. Fortunately I have a good conversational distraction. ‘What a time I have had since I last saw you!’

  ‘How?! It was only two days ago?’ Cassie’s wearing navy-blue lipstick and a gold lamé jumpsuit underneath her apron and looks, frankly, incredible. ‘You look cute, by the way!’

  ‘Well,’ I begin, trying not to take that compliment to heart and trying not to look too closely at her eyelashes even though the sun is adding a soft shine to their inky black lengths. ‘It concerns last night’s cosy little get-together with Mum’s man. So he came over for dinner last night as you know, and it was none other than …’

  ‘Who?!’ Cassie says, no patience for my dramatic flourish.

  ‘Señor Mango Sorbet! Whose name is actually Tony, which is much less interesting.’

  ‘Wow … he’s, like, definitely married isn’t he?’ Cassie grimaces.

  ‘Definitely.’

  ‘Did you tell your mum?’

  ‘Not yet, I’ve decided if he comes by the stand today I’ll tell him to end it, and if he doesn’t do it himself, I’ll have to.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ she says, wide-eyed. ‘I hope I’m not off for a loo break if he does show up! I want to see you, you know, getting involved with something. Most unlike you.’