Carla Burgess

Stuck with You: the perfect feel-good romantic comedy!


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your parents okay with you moving back in?’

      I stopped walking and stared blankly at the wall opposite. ‘I haven’t had chance to ring them yet, to be honest with you. They don’t know about any of this. I’m sure they’ll be fine though. My room’s still there waiting for me.’

      Rachel laughed. ‘Wow, that really will be like stepping back in time. Well then, let’s get this stuff into the cars, shall we?’

      ***

      ‘Hello, love!’ My mum looked astonished to see me standing on her doorstep, holding a bin bag and a lamp. She pushed her hand through her short dark hair and peered at Rachel, who was standing behind me holding a yucca.

      ‘Hi, Mum!’ I said, as cheerfully as possible. ‘Is it all right if I come and stay for a while?’

      ‘Of course it is!’ She leaned forward and kissed me before taking the lamp from my arms. ‘But why? Are you having your flat decorated?’

      Wrinkling my nose, I shook my head. ‘Alex and I split up.’

      Mum’s mouth fell open. She looked appalled. ‘Really? I had no idea you were having difficulties. Come in, come in. You may as well take everything straight up to your room. Lord knows, there’s enough clutter downstairs without you adding to it. Have you got much?’

      ‘Loads,’ I said, grimly, starting up the stairs after her. ‘Where’s Dad?’ I dragged the bag into my old bedroom and looked around. Everything was still the same as it had always been. The bed was made up with my old pink-check duvet. Even my ‘lunar eclipse over Stonehenge’ poster was still on the wall.

      Rachel looked around in amazement. ‘This place is like a time capsule,’ she whispered.

      Mum placed the lamp reverently on the bedside table. ‘Your dad’s outside in the garden. Shall I call him to help?’

      I peeped out of the window to see him on his knees, weeding his borders. He looked completely immersed in what he was doing.

      ‘No, we’ll manage. He’s happy out there.’

      ‘He’ll be happier to see you. And you, Rachel.’ She turned and smiled at Rachel, who was positioning the yucca in the corner of the room.

      Mum opened the window and yelled into the back garden, ‘Derek! Come and help Elena with her stuff.’

      Dad’s head shot up in surprise and he got to his feet. I leaned out of the window and waved to him. ‘Hi, Dad.’

      ‘Hello, love.’ He beamed up at me, steel-grey hair lifting in the wind. He had mud all over the knees of his stonewashed jeans. ‘I’ll be there in two ticks.’

      ‘No worries, Dad.’ I turned back to Rachel. ‘Come on then, let’s get the next lot.’

      I couldn’t help feeling sorry for Rachel. She’d been at work half an hour ago, arranging flowers and chatting to customers. Now she was wrestling bin bags out of her car and dragging them upstairs. I wanted to empty Rachel’s car first so she could go home, but she insisted on staying until my car was done too, and then stayed for a cup of tea and a chat with my mum and dad. It was both strange and comforting to be at home. I sat on the sofa, stroking Muriel the cat and feeling grateful my parents had just accepted me back without any fuss at all. I was lucky to have them.

      I felt buzzy, like I’d drunk too much caffeine, and my mind couldn’t settle on just one thing. While everyone else chatted, I kept wondering what Alex’s new woman was like. Was she very different to me? Was she thinner and prettier? Was she more interesting? Did she make him laugh? I felt a pang in my stomach. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d made him laugh. When had it all gone wrong for us? Why didn’t he like me any more? What was wrong with me?

      ‘So, what’s happened with Alex, Elena?’ Dad asked, dunking his biscuit into a steaming mug that said Head Gardener on the side. Rachel stopped talking to my mum and stared at me. ‘I take it he knows you’ve moved out?’

      ‘I told him I was moving out this morning,’ I said, stroking Muriel’s black and white fur with quick swoops of my hand. She narrowed her eyes and hissed. ‘After he told me he was seeing someone else.’

      ‘Who?’ Mum demanded, as though she might know the girl herself.

      ‘Someone at work. I don’t know who. He said I didn’t know her. I suppose I should have asked more questions, but I just walked away.’

      There was a collective intake of breath and three sets of eyes gazed at me in shock. The soggy end of my dad’s biscuit, which had paused halfway to his mouth, suddenly broke off and plopped back into his tea. He didn’t even blink.

      I shrugged. ‘We haven’t been getting on that well anyway,’ I said, stiffly.

      ‘But didn’t you argue about it? Surely you must have given him some stick? Thrown a few plates? Wailed a bit?’ Mum frowned at me.

      ‘Not really. I just went to work. I suppose it shows how dead our relationship had become.’

      ‘Oh well, I suppose you’ve never been one for drama.’ Dad sniffed, while Mum moved her head around like a chicken, looking bewildered. ‘There’s no point yelling and shouting if the outcome’s just going to be the same. Let him go. I always did think there was something off about him,’ Dad muttered. ‘Too pretty by half. Too interested in himself. What kind of man moisturises?’

      Rachel looked at him with interest. ‘Plenty of men moisturise these days. You should try it, Derek.’

      My dad grunted. ‘Don’t need no bleeding moisturiser,’ he muttered. I could tell by the murderous glint in his eye that he was thinking dark thoughts about Alex.

      I stared silently at the brown liquid in my mug. My throat ached with unshed tears and I felt empty and sore inside. Maybe a good cry would make me feel better? But half of me still couldn’t believe this was happening, and the other half felt like I had no right to be upset about a relationship I’d known was pretty much over anyway. Maybe this was just hurt pride I was feeling. Really, it should be a relief to be out of that flat and away from Alex. At least I didn’t need to worry about what mood he was going to be in when he finally came in from work, or what sarcastic or disapproving comment he might make next.

      Rachel glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece and got to her feet. ‘I’d better go,’ she said. ‘Patrick’s ringing me at six.’

      All three of us went to the door to wave her off, then returned to the lounge. My parents still looked troubled by the unwelcome news.

      ‘Thank you for letting me stay,’ I said as soon as Mum opened her mouth to say something. ‘I’ll go and finish unpacking my stuff.’

      I left her in the kitchen and climbed the stairs to my childhood bedroom. Instead of unpacking, I sat down on the bed and gazed around at the old familiar space. It had never occurred to me I’d end up living back here. I’d gone away to university at eighteen, come back at twenty-one, met Alex a year later and moved in with him. I remembered how claustrophobic I’d found living back at home with my parents after all of the freedom I’d had at uni. How would it be this time round, I wondered. Would they drive me mad? Maybe I’d drive them mad? It felt a bit like defeat to be moving back home at my age, like I’d failed at being a grown-up. Still, I was grateful they had let me come back. Imagine if they’d downsized and there was no longer any room for me. Imagine having to stay living with Alex until I had somewhere to go. It didn’t bear thinking about. At least this way I had time to search for my own flat.

      Collapsing sideways on the bed, I rested my head on my pink-checked pillowcase and thought about Alex. A sharp pang of loss sliced through me and I drew in a deep breath. It was strange to think we’d never eat together again or sit together in the evening watching TV; that we’d never share the same bed. It was the loss of these small things that made my heart jolt. They’d been my way of life for the past two years, and now I had to find a completely new way