held up her hand. ‘Babe you’re blinding me with science and seriously, if that’s your pillow talk, you do need to get out more.’
‘You had to be there.’
‘I’m glad I wasn’t.’ She put her glass to her cheek. ‘What did he say?’
I closed my eyes and shook my head.
His persistent texts had only ended when I’d agreed to meet him in the stairwell. No one in our company ever took the stairs.
He did at least have the grace to apologise.
‘Look, Kate. I get that you’re disappointed. But I have to put it into context. I mentioned the app idea in passing. I didn’t lay claim to it at all and never at any time said it was mine. I was going to say it was yours but they’d already picked the idea up and run with it.’
‘But you could have said you were going for the promotion. Why keep it quiet?’
‘I wasn’t that fussed at first. But then … well you turn thirty and you start thinking about the future. It’s alright for you. I’m going to be a breadwinner one day. I need the promotions.’
‘Pardon.’ I repeated his words in as scathing a tone as I could muster against utter incredulity. ‘You’re going to be a breadwinner one day?’
I put both hands up to my cheeks in disbelief. He couldn’t be for real.
‘Kate, one day you’re going to get married, have kids. You don’t need the income.’
‘I-I …’ Spluttering was about the only activity I could manage.
‘Come on, Daddy’s going to bail you out when you’ve finished playing career girl.’
‘Seriously!’ I stared at his handsome face, suddenly seeing the weak chin, with the faint beginnings of a jowl, floppy public schoolboy hair that hid a receding hairline and the well-cut suit concealing a slightly soft belly. ‘Whoever said Neanderthal man died out forty-thousand years ago, lucked out big time.’
Finishing my story, I bitterly took a slug of Prosecco and raised my glass towards Connie in a toast.
She snorted Prosecco out of both nostrils, sniggering and sniffing which set me off.
‘You are kidding me.’
Connie was virtually family having lived two doors down from me all my life. Our mums met in ante-natal and when we both moved to London, there was no one else either of us even considered living with. We’d been through a lot together. Her mum ran off with the milkman, no lie, and mine had a run in with an aneurysm that wiped her life out in an instant. One minute she was there, the next gone, leaving a huge hole in our family, that to be honest had never really been patched.
I shook my head, biting my lips and sniggering along.
‘You’d better tell your dad to start polishing his Rolls.’
I shook my head and our laughter quieted.
‘Sorry Kate, what an arse.’ Connie knew that I helped Dad out with the mortgage payments.
‘Top me up,’ she held out her glass. ‘So, did you dump his sorry ass?’
‘Too right I did.’
‘Excellent girl. And then did you chop off his gonads?’
‘Damn, I knew there was something I’d forgotten.’
We chinked our glasses together again. Connie propped her chin on her hand and we lapsed into thoughtful silence. I’d made light of Josh’s betrayal but it hurt. We’d not been going out that long but I’d enjoyed being one of two for a change. London could be a lonely place for one. It was nice having someone to do things with. We both worked hard, which is why it had worked well. We had so much in common.
‘Katie, is it worth it?’ Her voice had softened.
I swallowed. Connie and I didn’t do serious.
‘Is what worth it?’ I asked chucking back the last of my Prosecco, feeling the tension take hold of my shoulders.
‘You know. Your job. That’s all you seem to do these days. Work. Even Josh, he was to do with work. You need to have some fun?’
‘I have loads of fun.’ I winced. ‘In fact, I’ve got a do coming up. Although I was supposed to be going with Josh. Any chance I can borrow the blue dress?’
‘Of course, you can. Where are you going?’
‘Erm … it’s um … black tie thing.’
Connie groaned. ‘It’s work, isn’t it?’
‘It’s an industry awards thing. Newspaper Circulation Awards. But it will be fun and I love my job.’
‘Riveting. Not.’ She put her glass down and pushed the exercise books to one side. ‘Seriously Katie, I worry. You’re like a little hamster on its wheel. Running, running, running and occasionally you dive off for a sunflower, but you ram it in your cheeks for later. I know I work hard but at least I have the school holidays to unwind. When do you take time for you? When I go home for the weekend, Dad makes an effort. When you go home, you clean your dad’s house, tidy up after him and your brothers. And restock their kitchen cupboards. You can’t fill in for your mum for ever, you know. They have to do it for themselves eventually.’
‘I worry about them. I worry about Dad not eating properly.’
‘And you think that’s going to help?’
It certainly helped assuage the guilt that I’d abandoned the three of them.
‘They’re family, I have to help them. I earn a lot more than them.’
‘I know, but let’s face it. John could bloody pull his weight. How many jobs has he had? He always has to leave before he’s sacked because he’s a lazy git. Brandon, well,’ her mouth lifted in the slightest of smiles when she mentioned my younger brother, ‘he’s something else. But he’s not stupid. That replica Tardis was incredible. Daft sod.’
My brother was a sci-fi fan and in his spare time liked to knock up life size replica models of things from his favourite films and TV series.
Connie tapped her glass against her fingernails and straightened up. ‘If he stopped bloody playing effing Fifa, he could get a much better job. He ought to be doing more than having a pissing part-time job in that car breakers yard. And your dad is not as useless as he likes to make out.’ Her mouth firmed in a zipped shut line as if she’d said as much as she was going to on the matter.
An uncomfortable silence threatened to descend. I loved her dearly and she certainly understood me better than the menfolk in my family but they were mine to criticise, not hers.
‘You said you needed my help, so if it isn’t setting out to track down bastard Delaney with a very sharp knife, which probably wouldn’t go down with my Head if we got caught, what did you want?’
‘That book of yours. The one about candles.’
‘The Art of Hygge.’
‘Pardon?’ I laughed. ‘You’re not going to be sick, are you?’
‘No, you numpty.’ She grinned at me and just like that, we were back to normal. ‘It’s a Danish word,’ she said the word again, which sounded like Who-ga and still sounded like she was praying to the big white toilet god. ‘Spelt h-y-g-g-e.’
‘That’s how you say it, is it? I did wonder. So what’s it all about? Danish interior design?’
She turned horrified eyes my way. ‘Nooo, it’s much more than that. It’s an attitude. An approach to life.’ She rummaged in the big shopping trolley that always seemed to be at her feet. Being a teacher seemed to involve carting around an awful lot of stuff. ‘It’s by some hot Danish guy, second cousin to Viggo Mortensen,