been, “Eerrrhhh . . . umm . . . weeelll . . . eeeeehhhhh . . . sheeeeezzz,” but I could be mistaken. It mightn’t have been anything quite so logical or coherent.’
‘Stop messing.’
‘You think I could mess at a time like this? Jo, I must have sounded like I had all the intelligence, wit and vivacity of a Thermos flask.’
‘Where is he now? Did you leave him and the Tipsy Queen back at the studio?’
‘If memory serves, and believe me, the last twenty minutes have pretty much been one big blur, he invited both of us for brekkie, Charlene said something like, “What do you mean, eat? What, like,
food
?”, and I made my escape while the going was good. Jo, I really need for you to tell me honestly. As my bestest pal, the one who gets to say all the hard stuff that I don’t necessarily want to hear . . . on a scale of one to ten, how noticeable was it when I blanked out? When I couldn’t see anything? Because I can tell you right now, I have never been so terrified in my entire life.’
She pauses to weigh up her answer and I know I won’t necessarily like what’s coming, but I’m actually pleased. Jo has never told an untruth in her entire life and, good or bad, I know she won’t start now. For God’s sake, this is the woman who told me, to my face, that my last haircut was less Cameron Diaz and more Myra Hindley. Ouch.
‘OK, Cassie, you asked. I knew there was something up as soon as that last caller rang in. There was just this really weird look that came across your face.’
‘Raw panic?’
‘No, more like—’
‘Like someone who mixes medications?’
‘Will you let me answer? You looked like you’d had an epiphany, if that doesn’t sound like something a television evangelist would come out with. Frightened, yes, rabbit-in-the-headlights, yes, but there was something else . . .’
For a second, I can’t talk. Because she’s hit the nail on the head. That’s exactly what it felt like when I first locked eyes with Jack Hamilton. As if I’d just met something I’d been unconsciously searching for.
Oh hell, Jo’s right. It does sound like the verbal equivalent of one of those John Hinde postcards; you know, the ones with donkeys carrying bales of turf on them and girls with red curly hair.
‘Of course, that’s if you happen to believe in predestined romance and all that malarkey, which, as you know, I don’t,’ she adds, bringing both of us right back down to earth with a big, unsubtle bang. ‘It’s utterly demeaning to presuppose that we’re not rational beings with free will who make our own life choices, instead of being at the mercy of a random cosmos.’
‘Well, it could have been worse, I suppose,’ I say, desperately trying to see something positive about the situation. ‘For a minute there, I thought you were going to tell me I looked like I had a dose of quadruple diarrhoea and that the nearest loo was in Kazakhstan.’
‘Hmm, now I may not be psychic, but—’
‘I may not be either after this morning. I’m so afraid I’m losing it, Jo. What will I do if I can’t see things any more? I’ll lose my column, I’ll be unemployed, I won’t be able to pay our rent—’
‘Oh, come on, you had one tiny blip, you stage-panicked yourself into a spin and now you’ve put two and two together and come up with forty million. Honestly, we should nickname you Hector Projector. In another minute you’ll be visualizing yourself on the side of the road in a cardboard box living off parish relief. Who do you think you are, Heather Mills?’
‘Sorry, hon. That’s what panic attacks do to me. Oh Jo, I wish I knew what happened to me back there. Why couldn’t I see anything?
Why?
’
‘That, I cannot say. However, I’m sensing we need to discuss this further. Meet me for lunch?’
‘Defo.’
‘Usual place?’
‘You got it.’
‘Should I bring valium/alcohol/max-strength rhinoceros tranquillizers?’
‘Ha, ha, very funny.’
‘Keep the head. Stay
‘Stop messing.’
‘You think I could mess at a time like this? Jo, I must have sounded like I had all the intelligence, wit and vivacity of a Thermos flask.’
‘Where is he now? Did you leave him and the Tipsy Queen back at the studio?’
‘If memory serves, and believe me, the last twenty minutes have pretty much been one big blur, he invited both of us for brekkie, Charlene said something like, “What do you mean, eat? What, like,
food
?”, and I made my escape while the going was good. Jo, I really need for you to tell me honestly. As my bestest pal, the one who gets to say all the hard stuff that I don’t necessarily want to hear . . . on a scale of one to ten, how noticeable was it when I blanked out? When I couldn’t see anything? Because I can tell you right now, I have never been so terrified in my entire life.’
She pauses to weigh up her answer and I know I won’t necessarily like what’s coming, but I’m actually pleased. Jo has never told an untruth in her entire life and, good or bad, I know she won’t start now. For God’s sake, this is the woman who told me, to my face, that my last haircut was less Cameron Diaz and more Myra Hindley. Ouch.
‘OK, Cassie, you asked. I knew there was something up as soon as that last caller rang in. There was just this really weird look that came across your face.’
‘Raw panic?’
‘No, more like—’
‘Like someone who mixes medications?’
‘Will you let me answer? You looked like you’d had an epiphany, if that doesn’t sound like something a television evangelist would come out with. Frightened, yes, rabbit-in-the-headlights, yes, but there was something else . . .’
For a second, I can’t talk. Because she’s hit the nail on the head. That’s exactly what it felt like when I first locked eyes with Jack Hamilton. As if I’d just met something I’d been unconsciously searching for.
Oh hell, Jo’s right. It does sound like the verbal equivalent of one of those John Hinde postcards; you know, the ones with donkeys carrying bales of turf on them and girls with red curly hair.
‘Of course, that’s if you happen to believe in predestined romance and all that malarkey, which, as you know, I don’t,’ she adds, bringing both of us right back down to earth with a big, unsubtle bang. ‘It’s utterly demeaning to presuppose that we’re not rational beings with free will who make our own life choices, instead of being at the mercy of a random cosmos.’
‘Well, it could have been worse, I suppose,’ I say, desperately trying to see something positive about the situation. ‘For a minute there, I thought you were going to tell me I looked like I had a dose of quadruple diarrhoea and that the nearest loo was in Kazakhstan.’
‘Hmm, now I may not be psychic, but—’
‘I may not be either after this morning. I’m so afraid I’m losing it, Jo. What will I do if I can’t see things any more? I’ll lose my column, I’ll be unemployed, I won’t be able to pay our rent—’
‘Oh, come on, you had one tiny blip, you stage-panicked yourself into a spin and now you’ve put two and two together and come up with forty million. Honestly, we should nickname you Hector Projector. In another minute you’ll be visualizing yourself on the side of the road in a cardboard box living off parish relief. Who do you think you are, Heather Mills?’
‘Sorry, hon. That’s what panic attacks do to me. Oh Jo, I wish I knew what happened to me back there. Why couldn’t I see anything?
Why?
’
‘That, I cannot say. However, I’m sensing we need to discuss this further. Meet me for lunch?’
‘Defo.’
‘Usual place?’
‘You got it.’
‘Should I bring valium/alcohol/max-strength rhinoceros tranquillizers?’
‘Ha, ha, very funny.’
‘Keep the head. Stay
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