I reach for my phone, feeling the need to hear a familiar voice, to speak to someone who will tell me straight why I am acting weirdly. I FaceTime Dee. It’s past ten, but she never goes to bed before eleven.
“Hey, can you talk?” I whisper into the screen when she answers.
“Yes, Neil is out with his running club friends, I’m Marie Kondoing my wardrobe, rather than packing a load of clothes I never wear.” Dee shifts the screen so I can see the piles of clothes on her bed. “Why do I even own a single pair of heels? Have you ever seen me wear heels?”
“Never.” I shake my head.
“So, have you found Suitcase Man?” Dee asks, sitting down on the bed and giving me her full attention.
“Yes, I’m in his bathroom,” I say quietly.
“It must be going well then.” She mirrors my quiet voice.
“It is,” I hiss. “He’s amazing, like, dream-man-with-a-cherry-on-top amazing.”
“So why are you calling me? And why are we whispering?”
“I don’t know. It’s almost disconcerting how well it’s going. He’s good-looking, intelligent, and charming, he plays the piano, he ticks all the boxes. Plus, I think he likes me.” I pause, “He has five kitchens, though—”
“Five kitchens?”
“He’s a kitchen salesman. His house doubles as a showroom.”
Dee pauses for a moment, “Unconventional, but not a deal breaker.”
“It’s not. It’s actually kind of geeky and sweet.”
“So . . .” Dee says, clearly still wondering why I have called her.
“I met this crazy aunt today, she told me my parents were never married.”
“What?” Dee’s face creases with concern.
“She’s nuts, she also told me Mum had a phobia of seagulls and the dark. She must have their story confused with someone else.”
“Seagulls?”
“I think I would have known if Mum had any phobias. Then Suki’s mad at me for messing up this Instagram Live today, and then there’s this cabdriver, Ted, the one I shouted at, he’s been driving me around today, and we’ve been talking a lot . . .” I trail off, not sure why I mentioned Ted.
“Laura, have you been drinking?” Dee asks.
“Yes,” I say with a grimace.
“Right, well. It sounds like you’ve had a pretty full day. Maybe you should rain-check Suitcase Guy, see him tomorrow when you have a clearer head. If he’s really so perfect, you don’t need to rush anything.”
“Maybe you’re right. He’s already asked me out on a day date tomorrow.”
“Great. Everyone loves a day date. Look, don’t put yourself under too much pressure. It feels like you’re set on writing the perfect article about the perfect story, all while trying to meet the perfect guy—it’s a lot to put on one weekend away.”
“Hmmm,” I say, screwing up my face at the screen, tucking a wisp of flyaway hair behind my ear.
“You look tired, Laura. Have a good night’s sleep, pick things up with him tomorrow.” I give her a grateful grin. I’m sure it’s good advice. “And next time we talk, we need to have a conversation about the state of the nation or politics or something,” Dee says, opening her eyes wide and bringing them right up to the screen. “I refuse to be the ‘best-friend sounding board,’ constantly playing second fiddle to the primary, male-focused story line.”
“OK, you’ve got a deal,” I say, bringing my eyes right up to the screen too. “Look, I’d better go. And, Dee—thank you.”
* * *
*
Jasper is sitting at the piano when I come back. The sheet music from his bag is on the stand, and he starts playing “Against All Odds” as I walk across the room. His fingers move organically across the keys in a rapid flurry of notes; he’s clearly talented. I tilt my head to the beat as I sit down on the window seat near him. Unbidden, my mind drifts back to the beach, to the warmth of Ted’s voice, and I realize that this is the second piece of live Phil Collins music I’ve enjoyed this evening.
“Didn’t I say I wouldn’t be able to do it justice?” Jasper says as he closes the lid.
“You’re amazing. I could listen to you play all night long,” I say, bringing my mind back into the room, then I bite my lip, worried that sounded suggestive. “But listen, if we’re going boating tomorrow, I might call it a night. It’s been a long day for me.”