It Started With A Tweet(97)

He reaches over and gives me a hug, and this time he doesn’t even try and cop a feel. I watch him get back in the truck and I wonder if I should get a lift back, to sort things out with Jack.

But it wouldn’t change anything, not in the grand scheme of things. I’m still going for my job interview in London, I’m going to pick up on my life where I left off and he’ll still be here. I’d be no better than the woman who broke his heart the first time.

I wave as Rodney pulls away, deciding that it’s better for me just to go; life here was only ever a fantasy.

*

The first thing I do when I make it back to Dulwich four hours later and one hundred pounds poorer, is to treat myself to a pumpkin spiced latte from my usual coffee shop. I also buy some chocolate brownies, thinking that Erica won’t be sticking to her no-chocolate, no-gluten rule while she’s going through a break-up. I sip my coffee as I walk along and try to get my head around being back. Initially, the noise is deafening, having been so used to the silence of Cumbria, and it’s a good few minutes before I start to tune out the hustle and bustle and noise of the city.

I arrive at the street entrance to Erica’s flat and I brace myself as I buzz her, not knowing what I’m going to find.

‘Hello?’ comes her perky voice. That doesn’t marry with the unwashed, unkempt, pyjama-wearing Erica that I had in my head.

‘Erica?’ I say in disbelief.

She screams so loudly that I have to take a step backwards, and I almost bump into an old lady walking her Yorkshire terrier. I apologise profusely but all she does is tut and shake her head.

‘Come on up, I can’t believe you’re here,’ she screeches.

I make my way up the stairs, and I’m genuinely flabbergasted when she opens the door. Her hair is neatly styled into loose waves, her make-up has been flawlessly applied, and she’s wearing tailored trousers and a loose shirt. She looks as if she’s stepped out of the weekend style supplement that she’s holding in her hands, and not out of the pit of heartbroken despair that I imagined.

‘Have you finally been released from your detox?’

She guides me into the living room, and I sit down next to her.

‘Sort of. I needed to come down for a meeting about a job, and I’d seen your Facebook status about breaking up with Chris. Why aren’t you more upset?’

I look around the room and it’s completely different from when I left. Clearly, she wasn’t kidding about the amount of stuff that Chris brought with him when he moved in. But why is all his stuff still here?

‘Oh, that,’ says Erica, waving her hand as if batting away a fly. ‘We broke up for about ten minutes. Do you know he actually refuses to put the dishwasher on until it’s absolutely chock-a-block full? We keep running out of spoons and it’s driving me crackers. The other morning I was forced to eat my porridge with a teaspoon and I snapped. We had this really stupid argument about all the stuff each other did that wound us up and I told him that there was no way that I was going to start flattening the toothpaste tube every time I brushed my teeth and if he couldn’t accept that, we might as well break up.’

Am I hearing this right? They broke up over teaspoons and toothpaste? Erica, the usually level-headed woman, who holds a senior position in an FTSE 100 company let teaspoons and toothpaste bother her?

‘So nothing big happened? No affairs? No cheating?’

‘No, nothing like that. I was just really mad, and I stormed off to work and on the way I changed my Facebook status. By the time I got to work Chris had already had flowers delivered to me with an apology, and work was so manic that I forgot about my status. Then Chris and I had all the important making up to do, which meant that we didn’t get out of bed at all yesterday, so I only changed my status late last night when I remembered.’

‘I didn’t see that, as my phone’s still down a well,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘Did you not think that people would be worried about you?’

How could she be so flippant about this?

‘I replied to everyone’s comments, and I messaged you to say not to worry. I’m sure everyone saw the funny side; it was just a little lovers’ tiff.’

‘One that you felt the need to broadcast to the whole world.’

‘Well, not the whole world,’ she says, folding her arms to mirror mine. ‘Just my friends and family, and, as I said, everyone else knows that it was no big deal. I don’t understand why you’re making such a big thing out of it. It’s not as if you came running when you saw it, is it? I mean, you sent that message to me yesterday morning. You waited a whole twenty-four hours to come to see me.’

She’s pouting now.

‘I couldn’t leave Rosie; she’s having real relationship problems with her husband.’

We sit there in silence and I begin to think it was a mistake coming here.

‘Hello,’ says Chris, coming out of the bedroom in jeans and a chunky knitted jumper that makes him look like he’s an extra in a Scandi Noir. ‘I thought I heard voices. It’s lovely to see you, Daisy.’

He leans down and gives me a peck on the cheek, before walking into the kitchen.

‘Are you going to join us? We’re heading down for a late lunch at the Dog and Whistle.’

I look over at Erica and she’s looking away from me, her nose pointing in the air.