‘Darling,’ said Charlie.
Willow was so relieved at the endearment she almost slumped over the enquiry desk’s upper counter.
‘I’ve behaved like a dick. Will you accept my apology?’
‘Yes,’ she said, without hesitation.
‘Good.’
Charlie lowered his voice.
‘Can we have kiss-and-make-up-sex tonight?’
‘Yes,’ Willow repeated.
She briefly wished her boyfriend was more romantic and had instead said he’d like to make love to her. But she mustn’t complain. A squawk from Jean fragmented her thoughts. Turning, Willow saw her boss marching the little old lady towards the exit, vegetable props back in the shopping bag.
‘I shall look forward to ravishing you later, angel,’ whispered Charlie.
‘Me too,’ Willow murmured.
She’d pull out all the stops tonight and think of an added ingredient to spice things up.
As if on cue, the little old lady let out a shriek.
‘What am I going to do with all these cucumbers?’
Four
Willow spent the rest of the day in a manic mood. Charlie wanted to make things right!
Perhaps the little cogs in his brain had been turning over and over since Saturday night’s fiasco. Maybe Charlie had thought, “Why am I behaving like a wuss? I’m thirty-five years old and have been with the girl of my dreams for years. Let’s do this!”
You just don’t learn, do you? sneered the little voice.
I can live in hope, can’t I? she retorted.
The little voice didn’t deign to reply.
Willow couldn’t wait for the hands of the clock to signal it was time to go home.
When Jean finally gave the all clear to leave, Willow was out of the library like Lewis Hamilton screeching off the starting line in the Grand Prix.
On the drive home, her mobile rang. The name “Emma Everest” flashed up on the caller display. Unlike Charlie’s super-duper flashy BMW, Willow’s little Citroen had neither Bluetooth nor hands-free apparatus. As she was now frustratingly stuck in rush-hour traffic, she committed the cardinal sin of discreetly answering her mobile. Holding the phone against the base of the passenger seat, she switched it to loudspeaker. Now she was able to put both hands on the steering wheel and stay on the right side of the law, should a police car cruise up beside her.
‘Hi, Ems!’
Willow had to raise her voice so her bestie could hear.
‘Are you driving?’
‘Yeah. I’m on my way home.’
‘You’re so lucky having a local job and avoiding the London commute. I’ve had to let my usual train go off without me. Getting a seat these days is rarer than my mother not nicking my clothes, but today there wasn’t even standing room. It’s ridiculous.’
‘Poor you,’ said Willow sympathetically. ‘Why not get a job nearer home?’
‘Because the pay is rubbish. There’s no choice in the matter. If I want more dosh, I must commute to the City. Anyway, now that I’m saving for a deposit to buy a place, every penny counts. As much as I love my mum, being back home with her is more challenging than when I was living with Jon.’
Emma and her ex-boyfriend Jon had parted acrimoniously. She’d helped pay the mortgage but, as her name hadn’t been on the deeds and they’d never married, there was nothing Emma could do about claiming a percentage of a house she’d never legally owned. Willow heard her friend give a gusty sigh.
‘The sooner I have my own space, the better. My mother is driving me mad.’
Willow suppressed a giggle as a picture of the very glamorous Karen Everest popped into her head. Karen wasn’t like the average middle-aged mother. At forty-six, she’d only calmed down a smidgen since her teenage years. Back then she’d been something of a wild child but preferred to use the term “free spirit”. But whether a wild child or a free spirit, her wings had been clipped upon discovering she was expecting twins at the tender age of fifteen.
At sixteen, Karen had become mum to Emma and Noah. At seventeen, she’d married the twins’ dad, Andy. By eighteen, both Andy and Karen had separated. Shortly after their divorce, Andy and his parents had moved to Australia. However, before they’d emigrated, there had been a bitter custody argument. This had been resolved by Karen keeping Emma, and Andy taking Noah.
Over the years Emma had reluctantly declined invitations to visit Australia and stay with her father and brother. Karen had discouraged Emma in getting to know her Oz family. Karen didn’t like being reminded she’d messed up in her teens and had struggled with motherhood because she’d still been a child herself. She tried not to think about the little boy she’d given up to a teenaged ex-husband’s family. Karen’s parents had featured heavily in raising Emma. Consequently, she tended to treat Emma like a kid sister rather than a daughter.
‘Do you know what Mum did?’ said Emma, sounding outraged.
‘Tell me.’
‘I bought a fantastic pair of shoes for work. This morning I went to put them on, and there was no sign of them.’
‘Ah.’
Willow had a feeling what was coming next.
‘Mum had already left for work at the pub, and I was running late. So I rammed my feet into a pair of old flatties and belted off to the station. Once on the train, I texted her asking if she’d seen my new shoes. She replied almost immediately. “Oh darling, I couldn’t resist borrowing them. Aren’t they gorgeous! Do you mind if I wear them this weekend? I might have a date.” I was livid. No doubt the shoes will be returned covered in beer slop.’
‘That is naughty of her,’ Willow agreed. ‘But, on the upside, it must be fun having a mum who’s young enough to share your stuff.’
Willow couldn’t imagine sharing anything with her own mother. Anita, at sixty-two, had lost her waistline completely, and whilst she might have once had lovely legs, these days they were criss-crossed with purple veins. Willow had never seen her mother in high heels. In summer, Anita wore open-toed Birkenstocks and, in winter, sensible pumps. She was the opposite of Karen in every way, from her short unvarnished nails and pepper-grey hair, to her make-up-free face. Despite not bothering with herself, Willow could see her mother had once been a beauty, whereas Emma’s mum bought her glamour. Karen’s wavy brown hair was highlighted with expensive golden streaks. Her polished nails were immaculate thanks to the nail bar in Mosley, and she never ventured out of the house without make-up. Willow hoped she would look as good as Emma’s mum when she one day turned forty-six. She wouldn’t mind her figure either. Karen had a silhouette that most twenty-year-olds would envy.
‘Make sure you reclaim your shoes this evening, then hide them,’ Willow suggested.
‘Flipping right,’ Emma tutted. ‘And stuff Mum’s date this weekend because I have one myself.’
‘Really? You kept that quiet. What’s he like?’
‘I’m not telling you.’
‘What?’ Willow was taken aback. ‘Why ever not?’
‘Because you won’t approve.’
‘Oh no. Not another guy who is twenty years older than you. I know you like these father-figure types, Ems, but don’t saddle yourself with another Jon.’