‘No, no, no. He’s nothing like that. Actually, he’s–’
‘Don’t tell me. He’s loads younger. Is that it? You’ve gone the other way and now you’re cradle snatching.’
‘No!’
‘What is it then?’
‘Just, well, um…’
Willow sighed as the penny dropped.
‘He’s been round the block six million times. Am I right or am I right?’
‘No, nothing like that. He’s okay.’
‘So what’s the issue? Come on. Spit it out.’
‘Look, leave it. Nothing will likely come of it. It’s just a bit of fun.’
‘He’s not married, is he?’
When Emma didn’t reply, Willow tutted.
‘I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.’
‘He’s not married,’ said Emma miserably. ‘He’s just not, you know, entirely free.’
‘So he’s living with someone.’
Another silence.
‘Okay, let’s change the subject.’
Willow didn’t wish to upset her friend with a lecture.
‘Good idea,’ said Emma.
She was keen to get off the topic of her never-straightforward love life.
‘Anyway, the reason I phoned was to see if you had a lovely birthday.’
Willow wanted to tell Emma about how she’d wrecked her own celebration because of the M word, but decided against it. If Emma wasn’t keen to confide about her new boyfriend, then Willow didn’t feel obliged in talking about her botched proposal. And anyway, Emma often made little digs about Charlie being a commitment-phobe, so even if Willow did mention it, Emma would probably roll her eyes and say, “Well, what did you expect?”.
‘I had a nice birthday,’ said Willow carefully.
After all, it had been perfectly pleasant until she’d put her knife and fork together and mentioned the unmentionable.
‘What did Charlie buy you?’
‘A handbag.’
‘Oooh, lovely. Was it that designer one you were recently salivating over?’
‘No. I changed my mind about that one after spotting a leather bag in M&S.’
‘Really?’ said Emma in surprise.
Willow had been nuts about the designer bag and dropped heavy hints to Charlie.
‘This one is far more practical. It has lots of zips and pockets.’
‘Oh, well, good. If you love it, that’s all that matters.’
‘Yes, I do,’ said Willow, feeling depressed.
Her mother would have been thrilled with the bag. Like Anita, it was very sensible.
‘Did Charlie buy you anything else?’
‘Mm. A really pretty pair of earrings.’
‘Oooh, lovely. Us girls like our baubles, eh! What did he surprise you with? Sapphires to match your eyes?’
‘Er, no. They’re cubic zirconia. But I love them,’ said Willow loyally.
She omitted mentioning that the earrings hadn’t come from a jeweller, but also been bought at Marks.
Willow had tried not to dwell upon Charlie’s choice of birthday presents. She suspected he’d left present buying until the last minute, then panicked and asked his mother to dash out on his behalf. Both gifts were exactly the sort of thing Grace would buy for herself.
‘Charlie also took me to a fabulous restaurant.’
There was a gasp at the other end of the line.
‘Omigod! Was it that fancy restaurant in Covent Garden? The one you couldn’t stop talking about? You lucky thing! What was it like?’
‘Er, no. We went to the local pub.’
‘Oh.’
‘The, er, restaurant in Covent Garden was booked solid. For the next six months.’
‘Ah.’
Willow stared through the windscreen at the traffic, aware that her mouth had turned down at the corners. Heavens, she mustn’t feel like this. She was soooo lucky having a boyfriend who’d made a fuss of her. The bag, whilst not designer, certainly wasn’t a cheapie, even though the earrings had probably cost no more than a fiver. And the pub grub had been delicious. She mustn’t feel short-changed.
Well, I think you SHOULD feel short-changed, said the little voice.
Willow rolled her eyes.
Oh, here we go.
Yes, here I go. You spent a fortune on HIS birthday. You put a lot of thought into it. Charlie was whisked off by high speed rail to the London Eye. You both had your own pod complete with champagne. Then on to The Shard for dinner. And let’s not forget that exquisite shirt you bought him. The price tag was two hundred pounds. You scrimped and scraped to pay for it all, and your salary is a FIFTH of his.
‘Anyway,’ – Willow was keen to get off the subject of her birthday – ‘you’re only a week younger than me. So how will you be celebrating this Saturday?’
‘Well, I’m keeping my fingers and toes tightly crossed I’ll be taken out, but, just in case he can’t get away–’
‘Oh, Ems, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be insensitive asking that question.’
‘It’s all right.’
Willow could imagine Emma shrugging at the other end of the line.
‘I’m sure he’ll leave his girlfriend eventually, with or without me in the equation. And anyway, it’s not like it’s serious between us. It’s still quite new.’
‘So, just in case your date night doesn’t happen, shall we celebrate together?’
‘Of course,’ Emma chirped. ‘I was hoping to spend Saturday with you anyway.’
‘Great! What have you got in mind? Some shopping?’
‘Noooo,’ Emma laughed. ‘I’m thinking of something far more fun than that.’
‘What?’
‘Visiting a tattoo parlour. I fancy getting inked.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah! What do you say we both have one?’
Willow blanched. Somehow, she didn’t see herself with tattoos.
‘I’m not sure it’s me.’
‘Of course it’s you! I can see you now sporting an explosion of stars across one shoulder.’
‘I-I’ll give it some thought,’ Willow stammered.
‘Or – I know – what about us having something small on the top of one leg? Then, if we don’t like it, it’s out of sight.’
‘I suppose.’
‘Brilliant! Be sure to put it in your diary.’
‘Fab,’ said Willow weakly.
What had she committed to?
Five
Letting herself into their neat semi, Willow dumped her handbag in the hall, whizzed up the stairs and had a super-fast shower.
Towelling herself off, she sprayed perfume over her wrists before slipping into soft fleecy loungewear – perfect for chilling and, later, snuggling up to Charlie.
Dashing back downstairs, she went into the kitchen and began prepping dinner. Charlie loved spag bol. As she set about chopping onions and sprinkling herbs over sizzling meat, she hummed away to herself. Charlie might not want to marry her – yet – but he now knew he’d behaved like a moron and apologised too. Progress!
Leaving the mince to brown, Willow set about making a tomato and basil sauce, all the while contemplating her future with Charlie. She was quietly confident that the entire weekend fiasco was turning itself around. Firstly, she’d planted the seed of the M word. All she had to do now was water it. Making Charlie his favourite dinner after a hard day at work was the start of that little seed sprouting a root. Having make-up sex would provide a second root. Before long the seed would put out a shoot, hurtling upwards, seeking the light that would surely now dawn on Charlie. It just needed time.