by Hannah Tovey
‘I wish you’d talk to me about this stuff,’ I said.
‘I don’t want to bore you with this; this is what my NCT friends are for.’
‘I’d love to be bored with it.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, wiping the tears away. ‘You’re happy, aren’t you, Ivy?’
‘Yes, I’m happy.’
‘And it’s not just because of Scott.’
‘No, it’s not.’
‘Good, I want to be sure you’re OK for you, before anyone else comes into your life.’
‘I think Dilys has taken leave.’
‘Have you fired her, or is she on sabbatical?’
‘I’m not sure yet.’
She covered my shoulders with the blanket and we stared out to the sea.
‘Do you think I’ve become boring?’ I asked.
‘Where’s this come from?’
‘I don’t know, I used to be much livelier.’
‘You mean drunk?’
‘No, I don’t mean drunk.’
‘Sorry. You’ve grown up so much the past year, Ives. Your priorities have shifted … where there was once vodka—’
‘Anna!’
‘You know what I mean. You care about what you do now and you’re working hard for it. You can’t go out till six in the morning and then teach a classroom of four-year-olds.’
‘I know. I just want Scott to think I’m cool.’
‘You’ve never been that cool though, have you?’
She had a point.
‘Tell me about him,’ she asked.
‘I like him … very much.’
‘And he likes you?’
‘Yes. He doesn’t just say it, he makes me feel it. Every time I’m with him, I know.’
‘Why haven’t you let us meet him yet?’
‘It’s only been six weeks. He hasn’t met Mia yet, either.’
‘If you introduced him to her before me, I’d go ballistic.’
‘I want to keep him all to myself. I feel like I’m making up for lost time with him.’
‘I get all that, but I want an actual date. Mark and I have no plans. Aside from breakfast with our NCT group at nine a.m. on a Saturday, but I don’t think that would clash with your schedule anyway?’
‘Promise to be chill, and not bite my head off in front of him.’
‘I’ll be chill.’
‘OK then, it’s a date.’
She jumped off the wall in excitement.
‘Calm down,’ I said, laughing.
*
We got home to find Mark asleep on the sofa, with Mam and Dad sitting beside him.
Mam paused the film and gave us a disapproving look.
‘You left Mark with Eleanor all afternoon whilst you were at the Anchor! You don’t know you’re born, Anna.’
Anna looked sheepish as she downed her bottle of water.
‘Why are you watching Lake Placid?’ I asked.
‘You know your mother loves Bill Pullman,’ Dad said.
‘Don’t change the subject,’ Mam said. ‘Don’t you even want to know where your daughter is?’
‘Mark called, she’s having a late nap.’
‘When I had you, did I get any help? No, of course I didn’t. I had to do everything myself,’ Mam said.
Dad tried to interject but she was having none of it.
‘And here you are gallivanting around with your sister, when your poor husband is left to look after your child—’
I saw Anna’s chest rise and fall, and realised she was practising her hypnobirthing techniques.
‘Ivy said I can meet Scott,’ Anna said.
‘What! When can I meet him?’ Mam said. ‘If I at least knew what he looked like, I wouldn’t mind so much.’
‘Mags, give it a rest,’ Dad said.
‘I sent you a screenshot of his LinkedIn profile,’ I said.
‘It was blurry.’
‘It wasn’t blurry. And you’ve not met him because you’ve not been up to London.’
‘Why didn’t you invite him down here for the week?’
‘We only started dating last month. Even you can appreciate that’s a bit much.’
‘If he had to be an actor in a film, who would it be?’ Anna asked.
‘Oh, I like this game,’ Mam said.
Mark had since woken up, but hadn’t said anything, knowing better than to get involved.
I contemplated this for a long time, so long that they started another conversation between themselves.
‘OK, I have it,’ I said.
‘Well, spit it out,’ Mam said.
‘Don’t laugh, but it’s Jude Law in The Holiday … though, maybe in a less obvious way.’
Mam groaned.
‘Ych-a-fi, I detest that film,’ she said.
‘The Holiday?’ I said. ‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘Cameron Diaz, for one.’
‘What’s wrong with Cameron Diaz?’
‘Nobody should look that good at her age; it’s disturbing.’
Dad pretended to strangle her, and we carried on with the film.
27
Mia insisted I meet her as soon as I got back to London. She’d been to her eleventh wedding of the year and was being needier than usual. I expected the worst. Mia loves a wedding, but they don’t agree with her. Something about someone else being the centre of attention.
‘It’s my last wedding of the year, thank God,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why I’m invited to so many.’
She tipped the bottle of wine upside down to check that it was empty, then went back to playing the piano.
‘I was on my best behaviour,’ she said. ‘I didn’t say anything about the food. Even though they tried to serve roast beef for ninety people. Half our table’s dinner was overdone, the other half raw.’
‘I thought you weren’t eating meat?’
‘I didn’t put vegan on the RSVP; what with that and my gluten intolerance I thought it might be a bit too much for them.’
‘I thought it was lactose now?’
‘Gluten, lactose, they’re all the same. The whole affair made me question my own wedding.’
I said nothing.
‘Don’t pull that face at me, Ivy Edwards.’
‘Your feverish mind needs no encouragement,’ I said, holding my hands up.
She finished the song and came to stand over me.
‘You’ve not mentioned Scott the whole time you’ve been here,’ she said. ‘Why are you being so coy?’
‘I’m not.’
‘You are. You’re being smug and coy.’
‘How can you be both smug and coy?’
‘I don’t know, you tell me?’
‘It’s just … I really like him.’
‘I don’t see what the problem is.’
‘Well, what if, somewhere down the line, he thinks I’m … ’
‘Spit it out.’
‘Well, crap.’
‘Crap?’
‘Yeah. What if everything I learnt last year goes out the window? What if I unravel again?’
She held out her hand for me and guided me to the piano.
‘Don’t let your past fuck up your future, Ivy.’
I rested my head on her shoulder as she started to play.
‘You can’t look back, you’ve got to keep moving forward. Every time I go into an audition, I have to pretend that I haven’t just been rejected for five other things that morning. I’ve got to pick myself up and show them that I am this confident, supremely talented woman who is the only person for the job, when I know that right outside the door, there are twenty other women who look just like me, who are all as equally, if not more, equipped to do the part.’
‘I don’t know how you can pick yourself back up like that every day.’
‘Forget what everyone else is doing or saying – it’s about you,’ she said. ‘Trust yourself, Ives. Follow your gut – it’s all there. In every moment of uncertainty, we have to look inwards.’
>
‘Have you been watching Oprah?’
‘Oprah is such old news, darling. I need to introduce you to my fearless friend Glennon.’
‘Who?’
‘Doyle! Seriously, Ivy. Sometimes I despair of you.’
‘Scott told me this week that I’m the most interesting person he’s ever met, and that he believes in me. He tells me how he feels all the time.’
‘What sort of person tells you how they feel? What sort of game is that?’
‘That’s the thing, I don’t think it is a game.’
She mulled this over whilst playing the theme tune to Sex and the City.
‘Thank you for coming over,’ she said. ‘I miss our Saturdays like this.’
‘We still have Saturdays like this.’
‘Not as often.’
‘It’s not my fault, you’re always rehearsing.’
‘And you’re always either working or snogging Scott.’
‘I’m being an adult.’
‘I know you are. You’ve stepped into your power and you’re playing big.’
‘Stepped into my power, I like that.’
I got up to find my phone. ‘I need to text him to say what time he should come over tomorrow … ’
‘Text? Nobody texts, Ivy. Use WhatsApp so you can track when he was last online.’
‘What can I say, he’s a traditional man at heart.’
‘If you’re really lucky, sometime soon he’ll share his live location.’
‘Well, that’s something to look forward to, isn’t it?’
She nodded enthusiastically. She really thought it was.
‘How are you feeling about tomorrow?’ she asked.
‘It’s only lunch.’
‘Lunch with your sister, your best friend, and your new boyfriend.’
I put my head in my hands. ‘Why am I doing this again?’
‘I spent two hours today deliberating my outfit. I want Scott to think I’m sophisticated, clever, fantastically witty, and super classy.’
‘So what outfit have you chosen?’
‘I’m going to wear this black tulle dress that’s got a corset with ties up the back, with my new lace-up biker boots. And I have this tiny transparent handbag that only fits one lipstick in it. Oh, and of course Noah’s dead aunt’s mink coat.’
‘Good to see you’re keeping things low-key.’
‘What about you? What are you wearing?’
‘Jeans and a T-shirt.’
‘You cannot be serious?’
‘I haven’t been shopping for ages! The last thing I treated myself to was a coffee from EAT.’
‘What about your birthday money?’
‘It went on rent.’
‘Christ, that’s dull.’
‘Also, to manage your expectations, it’s not going to be a boozy affair. I’m back in school on Monday.’
‘Oh, Ivy. Stop being such a bore and start living.’
‘Can you try not to call me a bore every time you see me, please?’
‘Do I do that?’
‘Yes, stop it – please.’
*
On Sunday morning, I opened the door to find Scott, armed with a bunch of flowers, a bottle of wine and a packed tote bag. There was an image of Dr Strangelove on it and a half-eaten breakfast baguette on top ‘I panicked with dessert,’ he said, clearly flustered.
‘I spent three hours in Borough Market yesterday. There’s too much choice. I ate two raclettes then thought, sod it, everyone likes cheese, so here we are.’
He handed me the bag and I looked inside. There were about eight different varieties.
‘I know it’s a lot, but I didn’t know what everyone liked and so I told the woman to cover all bases.’
‘I’ve missed you,’ I said.
‘You have no idea.’
I led him inside and we had sex – twice – before we got started on lunch.
Scott bragged that he was an excellent sous chef, though he had no idea how to peel an onion, and his version of crudities was to cut up monster chunks of carrot that could barely fit into one’s mouth. He was also very distracting.
‘Look, I don’t mean to sound controlling, but can you sit down, please?’ I said.
He started to kiss me.
‘No, Scott, stop it. I’ve not cooked a roast for this many people in ages. Sit down.’
‘I like this side of you,’ he said.
‘You’re not meant to see this side of me yet.’
He laughed. ‘OK, I won’t move. I’ll just watch you, instead.’
‘Yeah, because that’s not off-putting at all.’
He poured us both a glass of wine and swigged his back, before pouring himself another.
‘I know you think I’m nervous,’ he said, ‘but I’m not.’
‘Oh, really?’
‘Yes.’
I liked seeing him on edge like this. It showed that lunch with my family and best friend meant something, and it meant something because I meant something.
*
Anna and Mark arrived bang on time, with Eleanor in tow. Eleanor had a gorgeous red velvet dress on, with a white Peter Pan collar; Mark was wearing his Burberry mac, which only ever comes out on very special occasions, and Anna, after messaging me seven times that morning to tell me how much she hated her wardrobe, was in black velour leggings and silver boots, with a hot-pink silk shirt that showed off her slim arms and killer cleavage.
‘Wow, you guys look amazing,’ I said.
‘Shush,’ Anna said, ‘I don’t want Scott to think we’re trying too hard.’
‘But you are trying too hard.’
‘Shut up and take Eleanor.’
I went to unbuckle Eleanor from the pram when Scott appeared in the hallway.
‘Hi, everyone.’
‘Scott!’ Mark, Anna and I said in unison.
Anna went straight in for a hug.
‘I’ve been so excited to meet you,’ she said.
I could feel the heat come off Scott’s face.
‘Me too,’ he said. ‘Thanks so much for coming over for lunch.’
Anna caught my eye. I knew what she was thinking. He said it like they were at our flat, mine and Scott’s. I imagined us as home owners, welcoming them into our palatial manor in Primrose Hill. If there was ever a place that said ‘I’ve made it’, having a three-storey townhouse in Primrose Hill would be it. Pity I could barely afford a bedsit in London’s poorest borough.
‘And this is my niece, Eleanor,’ I said, holding her in my arms.
He took Eleanor’s hand in his. ‘Aren’t you cute?’ he said.
Once Scott’s back was turned, Anna started nodding her head like a madwoman, giving me a big thumbs up.
‘Shut up and sit down,’ I said, through gritted teeth.
‘I made dip,’ Scott announced. He said it very proudly, and I very nearly told him that I loved him. Mark and Anna didn’t hear him speak, and Scott looked a bit crushed.
‘Scott made dip,’ I said, trying to get their attention. He put the dip on the table and Anna dove right in.
‘I think I’ve nailed this,’ he whispered to me.
‘I call it “crack dip”,’ he said, ‘because you want to keep coming back for more.’
‘Interesting choice of words,’ Anna said.
Everyone got stuck into the dip, whilst Scott played with Eleanor on the floor.
The dip was hotter than the sun. It was like he’d put a hundred chillis into a bowl, added a kilo of salt, and said, voila.
‘Mmm, tasty,’ Anna said, her eyes watering.
Scott beamed in ignorance.
‘Oh, before I forget,’ he said, ‘I brought these over.’
He went into his bag and pulled out several coloured chiffon scarves, and laid them down beside Eleanor.
‘I was at my mum’s yesterday. She said they use these in those … what do you call them … sensory classes?’
‘You brought these over for Eleanor?’ Anna said.
‘Yes. They’re OK, aren’t they?’
Anna hugged him.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘This makes up for the dip.’
‘What’s wrong with the dip?’ he asked. ‘Is it bad? I didn’t taste it.’
He got a spoon from the drawer, heaped sauce onto it and put it into his mouth.
‘Oh my fucking God,’ he said. ‘That’s disgusting.’
‘It’s the worst thing I’ve ever tasted,’ I said.
‘What exactly did you put in there?’ Anna asked.
‘I thought I did it right … but I might have got distracted. I was watching Tidying Up with Marie Kondo at the time.’
We were all laughing now.
‘Jesus, that’s really hot,’ he said, fanning his mouth as he ran to the bathroom.
‘I love him,’ Anna said, as soon as he was out of earshot.
I looked over at Eleanor, who was giggling and clapping her hands.
‘Look,’ Mark said, ‘even Eleanor approves.’
28
Despite everyone having to spoon yoghurt into their mouths for the next hour to get rid of the unbearable heat from Scott’s dip, the afternoon was a roaring success. Scott shared horror stories from Serendipity, most recently about the time he went on a date with a girl who kept a photo of her dead pet goldfish, Bertie, as her screensaver. Mark asked Scott a hundred and one questions about what it was like to grow up in North London, and, in a desperate attempt to stay sober in preparation for school the next day, I devoured most of the cheese.
As expected, Mia was late. The front door was open, so she let herself in, threw her mink coat on the sofa and started hugging everyone, Scott included.
‘I’m so sorry. He completely ran over.’
‘Who ran over?’ I asked.
‘The acupuncturist,’ she said, picking Eleanor up. ‘Did I tell you he used to do Meghan Markle?’
‘You’re three hours late.’
‘You said come for three?’
‘I said come for one.’
Her face wrinkled as she tried to do the maths.
‘He’s ever so busy, Ivy. It was a nightmare getting in today.’
She poured herself a large glass of wine.
‘He told me I needed to reduce my alcohol intake, but fuck that,’ she said, raising her glass, ‘it’s practically Christmas.’
‘It’s the first of November,’ said Mark.
I looked at Scott, who was staring at her in wonder. She looked ever so beguiling, if not a touch deranged.