Kept by Elle Field

it was finally fully better, causing
him to proclaim to an unimpressed me that the vet was far better than Michael
Jackson. Gone were the pop star ambitions of Obélix Thomas, hello horses! He
even used to steal my My Little Ponies to play vet with them. Nobody found this
strange. I suspect they overlooked this as it was preferable to us blurting out
Michael Jackson over and over again.
    The parentals were wrong though –Obélix didn’t break my heart – I reiterate, brother and sister . It had been far
safer for them to assume that though than let them discover the truth, even
though it remains their greatest dream – ditto for his ’rents – that the two of
us “rekindle” our love and get married. Yuck.
    ‘I’m just saying, Arielle! You could do far worse than
Obélix. You’ve always been far too mean to that boy. You’ll regret it when you
lose him and he settles down with someone else.’ Her cheeks have flushed pink
during her staunch defence of Mr Thomas.
    ‘I have Piers,’ I mutter darkly, annoyed I have to mention
his name in defence. ‘Obélix and I are just
friends and always will be just
friends . I will be very happy for Obélix when he gets married,’ I state
stiffly, not through jealousy of Ob marrying someone that’s not me, but because
Obélix will probably get married and I’ll remain alone and miserable. I’ll
become “poor Aunt Arielle” to his children – still single, still living at
home, not even capable of getting a job flipping burgers.
    She pauses for some reason, studying me carefully. ‘How is
Piers?’
    I can detect a hint of something in her voice but can’t
quite place it. She’s probably considering whether she can sabotage our
relationship (well she doesn’t know we’re over) so she can convince me to hook
up with Saint Obélix. Either that or she’s deciding whether she can push the
marriage and babies conversation. If only she knew “tick tock, you career
girls” doesn’t actually apply to me: I have no career to put forward over
children, let alone anyone to have children with.
    ‘Piers is fine, same as always. Thank you for asking,’ I
politely answer.
    ‘It’s just that–’
    She breaks off as Alice enters the kitchen. Thank goodness.
I’m actually so pleased to see her, I could kiss the badly-dressed piece of
mutton. She has unknowingly stopped me from becoming a lamb to the slaughter…
for the time being. I know this conversation is far from being over because,
whereas it is likely I could have avoided it this weekend, I’m here forever,
aren’t I?  
    ‘Don’t stop on my account!’ Alice shoots us an expectant
look that we certainly shouldn’t stop
on her account. ‘I just love hearing other people’s news. It’s what I get from
being a hairdresser!’
    Words fail me at this moment.
    ‘We were just talking about Arielle’s love life, Alice,’ my
mother tells her, shooting me a “be nice” look.
    I don’t even know Alice and I certainly don’t want to tell her
my news considering my reluctance to tell the parentals. I don’t fancy being a
future topic of discussion between Alice and her clients, the word being spread
all over Britain about how much of a reject, loser and failure I am.   
    ‘Ooh, yes!’ She sounds far too excited for my liking. ‘I
heard you tell that dishy vet you’ll see him at the pub tonight!’
    I swear, she almost claps her hands together in glee. Mum
shoots me a triumphant look like I’m confirming her expectation that one day
Obélix and I will get married.
    ‘Obélix is like my brother,’ I pointedly remark for Mum’s
benefit more than Alice’s. ‘We will never be together because he’s not my type. Oh, and he’s gay. Now, if you’ll excuse
me,’ I icily add, ignoring Alice’s gasps of scandal, ‘I’ll go and set the table
for dinner.’
    I speed off into the dining room but I can still hear
Alice’s voice. Loud-mouthed cow. ‘Ooh, Gilly ,’ she’s
saying. ‘Fancy that nice young vet