Christmas Shopaholic(29)

And then I blink and remember that Minnie’s got ballet on Saturday. And I’ve promised Suze to look after her three children all day Sunday while she and Tarkie go to some family friend’s memorial service. And we’re having a supermarket delivery.

“It sounds amazing,” I say regretfully. “But I have commitments. Another time, maybe?”

“Sure,” says Craig, in that easy way of his. We walk on a little longer, then he says casually, “I always used to think about you, Becky. Used to wonder what you were up to now.”

“Me too,” I say at once. This isn’t strictly true, but I can hardly say, “Actually, I forgot all about you.” We walk a few more steps, then I add carelessly, “So, am I what you expected?”

“Hmm.” Craig considers for a moment, then looks up. “Honestly? I thought you’d be more edgy.”

I stare at him, stricken, More edgy?

“I’m edgy!” I say, trying to laugh lightly. “God! I’m so edgy.”

“Really?” says Craig quizzically. “Because what I’m seeing is a sleepy village, husband, kid, tweed…” He looks down at the unicorn. “And whatever this is.”

“It’s a unicorn,” I say, and he raises his eyebrows.

“There you go.”

“That’s only part of who I am!” I say, a bit flustered. “I’m still totally edgy. I’m like…whatever. Bring it on. Smash it. Radical.”

Oh God, what am I saying? No one says “radical” except million-year-old hippies.

“It’s fair enough.” He shrugs. “People settle down. They have kids, go soft.”

“I haven’t gone soft!”

I try to push my hair back into an edgier style, wishing I had a tattoo to casually reveal.

“Cool.” Craig smiles, but I can’t tell if he’s humoring me. We reach the turning-down toward his cottage and pause on the pavement.

“Shall I carry this home for you?” he says, nodding at the unicorn.

“No, don’t worry, I’ll be fine now.” I take it from him. “Thanks. And, you know, count me in next time you go to Warsaw!” I add. “I do still party, I am still edgy—”

“Oh, Mrs. Brandon!” A cheerful voice greets me, and I look up to see Jayne, the school nurse, walking along, dressed up for an evening out. “What a super unicorn!” She strokes the white fluffy mane admiringly. “Now, I’m glad to bump into you, because I didn’t see you at pickup. I’m sorry to say, there’s a case of nits at school.”

Nits. Of all the things she could mention, nits?

“Oh dear,” I say hurriedly. “Well, thank you—”

“So we’re asking if all parents could check their children’s hair tonight. Remember, the eggs are white, but the lice are brown.” She smiles brightly at Craig. “Hello!”

“Hi,” says Craig, looking amused. “I guess I’d better leave you to it. See you, Becky.”

He lopes off and I feel a burst of frustration. It’s not fair. No one looks cool when they’re talking about nits. Not even Kate Moss could look cool talking about nits.

At last Jayne finishes telling me how to use a nit comb, and we wish each other a good evening. Then I continue on my way home, still clutching the unicorn, feeling ruffled. I know it was only a passing comment, but Craig’s judgment has really got under my skin.





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I’m still edgy. I am. Kind of. Aren’t I?

All the way to Shoreditch the next day, I can’t stop thinking about that conversation. I can’t stop remembering Craig’s pitying look. As we get out of the car, I’m so preoccupied, I can’t help saying, “Luke, do I look edgy?”

“No, you look lovely,” he replies absently, and I feel a jerk of dismay.

“So you’re saying I look crap,” I say morosely, and Luke’s head jerks up.

“What?” He stares at me. “Becky, I just said you look lovely. How the hell can you twist that into ‘I look crap’?”

“You said I wasn’t edgy. Edgy’s good.” I try to impress this point on him. “It’s good.”

“Oh,” says Luke, sounding baffled. “Then, yes, you do look edgy. If I saw you in the street, I’d say, ‘Wow. That’s one edgy person.’?”