Page 14 of Love, Accidentally

‘What are drugs?’ Isaac asks, evidently not giving his video quite as much attention as we hoped he was.

‘Medicines, darling,’ Tash tells him, shooting Greg and me a warning look. ‘Remember how I told you that Daddy sells special medicines to help sick people get better?’

Isaac clearly has no interest in his father’s occupation, as he turns his attention back to the screen again, just as my phone pings in my bag. In my rush to grab it and see if it’s Luke at last, I somehow manage to drop it on the floor of the car just as Greg brakes for a traffic light, and it slides under the front seat. I try to reach it with my foot a few times, but I can’t feel it. My hope that it will slide back out again when he accelerates away is quickly dashed. It’s evidently wedged against the mat or something.

‘Everything all right?’ Tash asks, noticing my attempts to retrieve the phone.

‘My phone. It’s under your seat and I can’t reach it,’ I tell her.

‘Don’t worry,’ Greg says in the kind of nonchalant tone that would normally only be used by people who have no idea how vital to everything phones are. ‘We’ll sort it when we get there.’

I fire him a quick death stare before forcing myself to sit back in my seat and be patient. When he finally pulls up outside my mother’s house, the car has barely come to a stop before I’ve taken off my seat belt and started hunting around under the seat for my phone. It takes a few goes, but eventually I feel its smooth shape and pull it out, unlocking it so I can see the message.

Hi, this is EE. We’re just contacting you to let you know about some great handset upgrades that are available to you…

For fuck’s sake. I growl with frustration as I delete the message.

‘Natasha, Matilda, how lovely to see you both.’ My mother bustles out of the house and wraps us both in tight hugs before stepping back to appraise us. ‘Have you lost weight again, Natasha?’ she asks.

Questions like this are like catnip to my sister, who has always been very conscious of her figure.

‘I don’t know,’ she says coyly. ‘Maybe a pound or two?’

I have to smile. Tash will know exactly how much she’s put on or lost since she was here last, so I’m not fooled by her false vagueness.

‘You look well, Matilda,’ Mum says, turning to me. ‘I do worry about you, working such funny hours. Are you sure there aren’t any nice regular nursing jobs you’re interested in? You’re not getting any younger and, if you’re going to meet someone and settle down…’

Now it’s Tash’s turn to smile, as we both know ‘looking well’ is Mum’s term for ‘a bit plump’. She’s also continually on my case about the fact that, unlike my sister, I don’t yet have a husband in tow. Mum feels very strongly that a woman isn’t complete until she’s married with a family of her own, and I think my single status bothers her even more than it does me. I’m fully aware that the clock is ticking, and I don’t find her reminders particularly useful.

‘It’s fine, Mum,’ I tell her. ‘All the running around keeps me trim and, as I keep telling you, thirty-four is hardly my dotage.’

‘Hmm,’ she replies, evidently unconvinced. ‘And how’s this little man?’ she asks, turning to Isaac.

‘’Lo, Nanna,’ he says. ‘Have you got crisps?’

‘Of course, but not until you’ve eaten all your dinner, OK? Why don’t we go inside and say hello to everyone. Greg, Natasha tells me you’re doing terribly well at work.’

* * *

Despite Mum’s remarks about my relationship status and my weight which, as a nurse, I happen to know is in the healthy BMI range and therefore fine, I do enjoy spending time with my parents and step-parents. Soon after the divorce, Andy put a substantial conservatory on the back of his and Mum’s house, so there would always be a space for large family gatherings. It contains, among other things, an extending table capable of seating sixteen people, as long as they know each other very well. Not to be outdone, Dad spent a fortune upgrading the kitchen at his and Gloria’s, so large, steaming dishes can often be seen being carried through the gate in the garden fence that was put there when we were children. It is a little like living in a commune; in fact, I’m surprised sometimes that they didn’t just knock the two houses together.

I’m feeling full and sleepy as I relax in an armchair after lunch. Greg is chatting to Dad about work, Gloria and Andy are next door dealing with the washing-up and Mum is sitting on the floor playing some kind of card game with Isaac while Tash watches on warily. I’m not entirely sure what the rules of the game are, but it seems to me that Mum is changing them regularly in her favour.

My eyelids are just beginning to droop when I’m startled awake by another ping from my phone. I slide it out of my pocket as surreptitiously as I can, but I can tell Tash already has half an eye on me. It’s a text message again.

Hi Tilly. So sorry for the delay in getting back to you. Things have been a bit tricky with Mum so I’ve had my hands full. Anyway, I’m not sure what your shift pattern looks like, but I’d love to take you out to lunch one day next week if you’re available? I know dinner is the traditional thing but I need to be around in the evenings and at weekends for Mum – hope you understand. Let me know – I’ve got everything crossed that the answer will be yes. Luke x. PS – now you have my number so can text me any time!

‘What is it?’ Somehow Tash has crossed the room at the speed of light and is sitting beside me, looking expectantly at my phone. Nobody else seems to be taking the slightest bit of interest, so I carefully angle the screen so she can read the message. ‘Seems legit,’ she remarks. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘I’m going to say yes, obviously. I’m not on shift again until Wednesday so I could meet him on Tuesday if he’s around. But I’m going to let him stew for a while before I reply. I accept his excuse, but I still want him to get a taste of his own medicine. I’ll send something tonight, before I go to bed. Or maybe tomorrow morning. I’ll see how I feel. I don’t want him thinking I’m hanging around waiting for texts from him and devouring them the moment they arrive, like some love-struck teenager.’

‘Of course you aren’t,’ she says with a snigger. ‘All that palaver when you lost your phone in the car wasn’t you acting like a love-struck teenager at all.’

I can feel myself blushing. She knows me too well.

‘There’s just one problem with your plan,’ Tash observes after a few moments. ‘Won’t the ticks go blue his end so he’ll know you’ve read it?’

I look at the phone again. ‘No. He’s used text rather than WhatsApp, so I don’t think it tells him.’

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