Page 95 of Mad About You

‘Good, isn’t it?’

‘Great. Already making plans to go back.’

I bet you are.

‘You can take me,’ Sam said.

‘Was hoping for someone less likely to wear pool slides with socks.’

I bet you are.

‘I forgot to say, the paperwork’s finally done for my flat,’ Harriet said. ‘I move out two weeks on Sunday.’

‘Oh, right,’ Cal said. He looked vaguely flummoxed, as if he’d forgotten the imminence of Harriet vacating. ‘Thanks.’

‘We’ll stay in touch, won’t we?’ Sam said, ferreting around the garlic bread.

‘For sure,’ she beamed at Sam. Cal said nothing.

The doorbell bonged and beyond closed curtains, they couldn’t see who it was.

‘My mozz sticks! The arc of history bends towards justice,’ Sam said.

Cal went to get it and after a few seconds, Sam twitched a corner of the curtain to see who Cal was talking to.

‘Aw fuck no, it’s Kit.’

Sam slumped down in his seat as Harriet sat up straighter.

‘I wonder what she wants?’ Sam said. ‘Apart from Cal’s balls and soul trapped in a haunted jam jar.’

‘Look, I’ll prove it to you,’ Cal said, entering the roomwith Kit in tow. She was in a turtleneck jumper and slim-cut trousers and looked, as per, like a bonsai supermodel.

‘Hiiiii everyone,’ she raised a palm. ‘Hold on, it’s my best man, my photographer and my groom. Is the vicar in the kitchen, flipping pancakes?’

Harriet knew Kit to be terrifying, but she had to admit: stylishly so.

‘There,’ Cal produced his phone from the far corner of the room and flashed the screen at Kit. ‘Missed and unread WhatsApps from you.’

He threw it down on the sofa, next to Harriet, and Kit glared at the phone and then at Harriet, before tossing her hair and looking back to Cal.

‘Alright, I accept you didn’t get my news.’ She addressed the room. ‘Come to say goodbye. Got a job in Qatar.’

‘Congrats,’ Sam said, flatly. ‘And goodbye.’

‘Congratulations,’ Harriet mumbled, as Kit stared at her as if it was required.

‘I didn’t mean you; I don’t know you,’ she said. ‘All I know about you is you treated my so-called wedding day like it was the search-engine function on fucking Gumtree.’

‘Don’t pick on her, she’s done nothing wrong,’ Cal said, hotly.

Nevertheless, Harriet squirmed at Kit having a point.

Cal and Kit moved to the hallway where they had a muttered conversation, which Sam accompanied by extravagant eye rolls and a ‘yanking noose to neck’ gesture. Harriet sensed both her and Sam were listening for any audible clues about what was happening while also trying not to listenin,andfind their own conversation, and therefore failing on all three fronts.

‘Another beer anyone?’ Cal put his head round the sitting-room door, after they heard the front door close. ‘Sam? Hats?’

‘Taking it easy, thanks,’ Harriet said, holding up her tea, liking her new nickname status.

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