Page 81 of Mad About You

Harriet was somewhat mollified at this. It matched up neatly with what Lorna had said. It gave Harriet hope that some had seen through him.

‘Great to know news of my great unveiling as a pissed-up bully has reached the newsroom of theYorkshire Post.’ Then, quieter: ‘It’s so … embarrassing, Cal.’

‘Will it help if I embarrass myself?’

‘I don’t know. Try.’

‘I think partly why I blurted that question like an idiot was … when I read it, I felt protective of you, but also a bit … possessive, I guess?’

Harriet’s heart rate increased, and she sternly instructed herself not to be affected by it.

‘You’re my friend and there’s this ex saying bizarre, nasty things about you. I knew he was making it up. But he was describing a time in your life when I didn’t know you. It gave me a sort of disorientation, like … jealousy. Then my colleague starts accusing me of not knowing you, when I’m so sure I do. It got to me.’

Harriet swallowed, hard.

‘I know how self-absorbed and gruesomely inappropriate this sounds. Not least cos you’re thirty-four so of course you had a life before Travel Iron Jon, and moving in with me …and … Oh God, stop talking, Cal … Yeah, well, there it is. My feeling on reading it was: “who the fuck are you to her, and how dare you.” Nothing else. I’ve made myself look worlds worse, haven’t I?’

In actual fact, Cal had unwittingly struck a chord. Harriet remembered that she’d felt a stab of irrational possessiveness about the casual fling Cal had, thirteen years ago. Were they …both…falling…?! Surely not. No. Fact check: he was going on dates, that he wasn’t mentioning. Still, it was nice that he felt defensive. It was a teaspoon of sugar stirred into the very bitter, cold black coffee that was her life.

‘No. And I think you’ll agree: in Scott, I have now decisively won the awful exes competition. Close the phone lines, your vote won’t count,’ Harriet said, in a conciliatory tone.

‘Oh I don’t know about that …’

Harriet got up, pushed the hair out of her face, checked herself in the mirror (nothing to be done about those eyes), dug in a drawer to find a particular piece of paper. She opened the door to him. Cal was still sitting down, socked feet braced against the opposite wall. He looked up, apprehensive.

‘Long story short, you’re blaming this on a woman?’ Harriet said.

‘Zugzwang!’Cal grinned.

‘You’re a massive zugzwang.’

Harriet handed Cal the florist’s card, as he stood up.

‘Remember when you thought I’d got flowers from a client? It was Scott. I ran into him and his fiancée at a wedding shortly before, and she looked as down-beaten asI once did. I wrote her a letter about what he’d done to me, saying “you’re not alone”. That bouquet was him promising he’d get me back for it. The Facebook post was the getting me back.’

Cal frowned at it. ‘This is really creepy, Harriet. You should’ve said at the time. We could’ve gone to the police, even.’

‘There wasn’t anything you, or they, could do, and I didn’t know what he’d do as retaliation. After Jon’s antics, I didn’t know how you’d take it. What a dream lodger I am.’

Cal gave it back. ‘I’d have installed machine-gun turrets.’

She flushed, unbidden.

‘Seriously, Harriet. I think this Scott is scum. I honestly, on Sam’s life, didn’t need you to tell me you’d not behaved like that. I was only looking for confirmation of a minor practicality, nothing more.’

Harriet thought on her rant about disrespecting things you didn’t fully understand. At least Cal asked.

‘Accepted and forgiven,’ Harriet said, shoulders slumping. Then: ‘Hey, I have a question. Why is there writing on the wall in there by someone saying they hate you?’

‘Uh?’

She showed Cal into the room and pointed to it.

‘Urrrgh, Naked Ned. Your predecessor. The guy who walked around nude and used toilets with doors open. He was Mr Chilled Hippy until I said to him I didn’t think it was working out, and could he perhaps go? He flipped at me. I found little notes shoved down the side of bookcases and folded up in the coffee pot afterwards, questioning mymother’s family background, shall we say. I feel lucky he didn’t beat me to death with his pimped didgeridoo while I slept. Not a euphemism.’

‘Hahaha. Yet you didn’t even want to meet me?’

‘I liked your voice,’ Cal said, shrugging, and smiling, and in some small way, helping to mend Harriet’s heart.

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