Cloudy with a Chance of Love by Fiona Collins Page A

know what Dad is like. He said it’s his decision and she’s coming. That’s that.’
    Thank you very much Jeff , I wailed internally. So he was still attempting to twist the knife. I was all right now, I really was. But this would be very, very tough. I hadn’t seen Gabby since that morning, a year ago.
    â€˜Well, I can’t sit with them, I just can’t! You don’t mind, do you?’
    â€˜I would never expect you to sit with them, Mum, don’t worry.’
    â€˜Okay, good. Oh, god, Freya, it’s going to be awful.’ Then I wished I hadn’t said that; her days of supporting me and all my anguish were supposed to be over. I was being a terrible, needy mother again.
    â€˜Mum, it’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. You’ll just have to ignore them.’
    I pulled myself together. Made my voice nice and steady. ‘You’re right. Yes, darling I’ll be fine. I’ll be absolutely fine.’ That’s better. Stiff upper lip and all that; I could do this. For Freya. I could look that bitch in the eye and be strong. I hadn’t done anything wrong.
    Oh god.
    Oh god . It was going to be bloody awful.
    â€˜So, Mum, why were you going to call me about graduation?’
    â€˜For the times,’ I said, my mind still whirring. Gabby. Gabby was going to be there.
    â€˜Service at seven. Graduation dinner at Caspar’s restaurant at nine.’
    â€˜Okay, darling.’
    Seven o’clock. I was dreading the appointed hour already.
    â€˜Hey, what were you up to last night?’ she chirped.
    â€˜How do you mean?’
    â€˜You were out!’
    â€˜How do you know?’
    â€˜I tracked you. On the iPhone.’ Oh yes. Freya and I had both got iPhones. They had GPS and you could track people. For ‘fun’, Freya had said. It was really quite clever. I wished I’d had it a year ago; I could have tracked Jeff.
    â€˜So you know exactly where I was, then.’
    â€˜Yes, The Old Brewery, Wimbledon Village. What were you doing there and who were you with?’
    â€˜All right, Herr Commandant,’ I said. I might as well tell her. She might be impressed. ‘Speed dating night. With Sam.’
    I could tell she was choking on her third cup of coffee. ‘Speed dating? Wasn’t that a noughties thing?’
    â€˜They still do it,’ I said. ‘It’s very hip.’ Hip ? What on earth was I saying? I was more hip replacement than hip, or at least heading that way. ‘They’ve evolved it. You now have to mime and stare into strangers’ eyes for three hours.’
    â€˜Really? It sounds horrific!’ said Freya, but I could tell she was delighted. ‘I can’t believe you went speed dating. You!’ She was laughing. ‘Oh well done, Mum! That’s fab!’
    â€˜Thank you,’ I said. I was waking up now, despite myself. The heating came on and things began to rumble in the airing cupboard. My tummy began to rumble, too.
    â€˜So. Wow. How did it go? Did you meet anyone or was it just a load of middle-aged losers?’
    â€˜ I’m middle-aged, Freya.’
    â€˜Oh, yeah. Sorry. I don’t see you like you that.’
    â€˜Thank you. Me neither.’ I hated that expression, ‘middle-aged’, although it was more than true. I doubted I’d live to ninety – not with the amount of chocolate I ate. ‘And actually, I got myself a date.’
    â€˜Oh wow, well done you! Who with?’
    â€˜A middle–aged landscape gardener called Ben, not that I see him as that, either. He’s really nice. Quite good looking. I didn’t actually meet him at the tables, as they call it. I met him at the end. During the disco.’
    â€˜Congrats, Mum, I’m impressed. Landscape gardeners are so cool. Where are you going?’
    â€˜I don’t know yet. He’s phoning me today. We’re going out tonight.’ Landscape gardeners were cool,