awkward and self-conscious.
‘Anyway, look at you, married!’
‘Yes!’ She smiles and raises a glass. ‘To you, Viv, and to me being married before you. You owe me five pounds.’
‘To me. I am amazing.’ I take a sip of champagne.
‘ Devil nectar! ’ screams Angel, and I put the glass down like it’s hot. Luckily Lucy has turned back to Reuben.
I take a wedge of cheese and a slice of bread, press them together and, while no one is looking, shove as much of it as I can in my mouth and chew purposely like a cow. I must have food. I must eat a lot of stuff fast. Max puts a hand on my thigh. I glance his way, swallowing and preparing to go in for another bite. He’s looking at me funny. His eyes have gone all dreamy. I take the bite.
‘All right?’ I ask with my mouth full.
He keeps looking at me as if he’s never seen me before, his eyes moving over my face.
‘Do I have cheese in my hair?’
‘I love you, Viv,’ he says.
I nod, swallow and put down the bread, looking around for a drink of something that isn’t champagne. ‘Can you pass that jug of water?’
He pours water into my glass and I take a good long drink, eyeing the tortilla cubes on the platter.
‘I love you, Viv,’ he says, as I suddenly make a lunge to grab some.
‘Thank you. I’m starving.’ I smile. ‘Pass the pepper?’
‘Vivienne, look at me.’
I turn to admire him. I completely see why girls have always loved this old friend of mine: they think he’s hot. He looks like he’d be dirty, and he is! I give his hand a squeeze, feeling totally peaceful and happy.
‘Marry me, Viv,’ he says.
‘What did you say?’
He slides a ring box across the table. ‘I said, Vivienne Summers will you marry me?’
11
Angry Cat
F amily pets may get jealous . Watch their behaviour and remember even the most docile cat may attack if provoked. Cats and babies have coexisted peacefully for thousands of years.
w ww.catsandbabies.com
I open my eyes and glance at the window. It’s light. It must be about eight. I always gauge the time in the morning by the amount of daylight, but then, I’m quite often late. What am I, a human sundial? I must get a clock. I turn over with the familiar churning of nausea, remember Angel, remember the wedding, the proposal, remember that I said no.
I see Max is not in bed. I sit up, nudging the curled-up bulk of Dave at the foot of the bed, smell the smoky tang of coffee.
‘Max?’ My voice is croaky and thick with sleep.
‘Here,’ he says quietly, sitting by the window, sketching, wearing old shorts. He smiles, with an unlit rolly hanging from his lower lip. I run a hand through my hair and watch him. The blind is partly open, showing a band of white sky.
Dave turns onto his back and stretches, his claw mittens snagging the cotton duvet, his curled sage-leaf tongue unfurling in a fishy yawn. I tickle his white belly fur, looking at Max.
‘Let me see that?’
He makes it from stool to bed without straightening up and rolls up to me, chucking the pad on my legs – a set of sketches of my naked back.
‘Off, Dave,’ he says, sliding the cat to the floor with a foot, and turns to lie flat on his back with the cigarette in his mouth.
‘They’re nice,’ I say, curling into him. ‘Why are you pretending to smoke?’
‘Flavour.’
‘I think you’ll have to quit.’
‘Quit pretend smoking? Jesus, you’re hard.’
‘Please get me a biscuit. I feel sick.’
I hear him a second later rummaging around in the kitchen. On the bedside table is the ring box and the ruby and diamond ring Max gave me, round as a fish eye, grandma-style ornate, old-fashioned and cool. Max returns with tea and a packet of Hob-Nobs.
‘Thanks,’ I say with a comedy lisp.
‘You are welcome.’ He caresses my back before wandering to the sash window, sliding up the lower half and lighting the cigarette. ‘Commitment shy, fucking hell,’ he says, blowing smoke out of the window.
‘I’m
‘Anyway, look at you, married!’
‘Yes!’ She smiles and raises a glass. ‘To you, Viv, and to me being married before you. You owe me five pounds.’
‘To me. I am amazing.’ I take a sip of champagne.
‘ Devil nectar! ’ screams Angel, and I put the glass down like it’s hot. Luckily Lucy has turned back to Reuben.
I take a wedge of cheese and a slice of bread, press them together and, while no one is looking, shove as much of it as I can in my mouth and chew purposely like a cow. I must have food. I must eat a lot of stuff fast. Max puts a hand on my thigh. I glance his way, swallowing and preparing to go in for another bite. He’s looking at me funny. His eyes have gone all dreamy. I take the bite.
‘All right?’ I ask with my mouth full.
He keeps looking at me as if he’s never seen me before, his eyes moving over my face.
‘Do I have cheese in my hair?’
‘I love you, Viv,’ he says.
I nod, swallow and put down the bread, looking around for a drink of something that isn’t champagne. ‘Can you pass that jug of water?’
He pours water into my glass and I take a good long drink, eyeing the tortilla cubes on the platter.
‘I love you, Viv,’ he says, as I suddenly make a lunge to grab some.
‘Thank you. I’m starving.’ I smile. ‘Pass the pepper?’
‘Vivienne, look at me.’
I turn to admire him. I completely see why girls have always loved this old friend of mine: they think he’s hot. He looks like he’d be dirty, and he is! I give his hand a squeeze, feeling totally peaceful and happy.
‘Marry me, Viv,’ he says.
‘What did you say?’
He slides a ring box across the table. ‘I said, Vivienne Summers will you marry me?’
11
Angry Cat
F amily pets may get jealous . Watch their behaviour and remember even the most docile cat may attack if provoked. Cats and babies have coexisted peacefully for thousands of years.
w ww.catsandbabies.com
I open my eyes and glance at the window. It’s light. It must be about eight. I always gauge the time in the morning by the amount of daylight, but then, I’m quite often late. What am I, a human sundial? I must get a clock. I turn over with the familiar churning of nausea, remember Angel, remember the wedding, the proposal, remember that I said no.
I see Max is not in bed. I sit up, nudging the curled-up bulk of Dave at the foot of the bed, smell the smoky tang of coffee.
‘Max?’ My voice is croaky and thick with sleep.
‘Here,’ he says quietly, sitting by the window, sketching, wearing old shorts. He smiles, with an unlit rolly hanging from his lower lip. I run a hand through my hair and watch him. The blind is partly open, showing a band of white sky.
Dave turns onto his back and stretches, his claw mittens snagging the cotton duvet, his curled sage-leaf tongue unfurling in a fishy yawn. I tickle his white belly fur, looking at Max.
‘Let me see that?’
He makes it from stool to bed without straightening up and rolls up to me, chucking the pad on my legs – a set of sketches of my naked back.
‘Off, Dave,’ he says, sliding the cat to the floor with a foot, and turns to lie flat on his back with the cigarette in his mouth.
‘They’re nice,’ I say, curling into him. ‘Why are you pretending to smoke?’
‘Flavour.’
‘I think you’ll have to quit.’
‘Quit pretend smoking? Jesus, you’re hard.’
‘Please get me a biscuit. I feel sick.’
I hear him a second later rummaging around in the kitchen. On the bedside table is the ring box and the ruby and diamond ring Max gave me, round as a fish eye, grandma-style ornate, old-fashioned and cool. Max returns with tea and a packet of Hob-Nobs.
‘Thanks,’ I say with a comedy lisp.
‘You are welcome.’ He caresses my back before wandering to the sash window, sliding up the lower half and lighting the cigarette. ‘Commitment shy, fucking hell,’ he says, blowing smoke out of the window.
‘I’m
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