Page 79 of Enemies to Lovers

The fire wasn’t your fault, and the arsehole didn’t talk to you to begin with

You’ve not lost anything

Me

So why do I feel so shitty?

Jamie wasn’t at breakfast

The mood in the family is an unreadable one: Mum, Dad and Alex are being extra-bright and chatty, as if compensating for the dourness of Laurie, who is doing a very dramatic sulk whilst professing ‘everything is fine’…

And Kate and Laurie have obviously fallen out, but aren’t declaring that out loud, and so we’re all ignoring it until they get it together

Hope

I think you’ll be fine by this afternoon!

Kate drags me off to the market. I’ve got an anxious tummy, which is quite the kick-me-whilst-I’m-down move from my body. Like it isn’t enough to have my brain going haywire, but I could also poop my pants if I don’t stay close to a toilet. I’ve had way more than my fair share of bad days in my life, but this is a first for me, to feel so sad and untethered that even my tummy is upset. Even during my breakdown I didn’t get freakingdiarrhoea.

‘Thanks for sharing,’ observes Kate when I tell her what’s going on. We’re climbing off the bus for the market stop, but I had to say something. She surveys the shopping kingdom laid out before her, and with a happy glint in her eye slips on her sunglasses. I didn’t have a choice about coming this morning – Kate has been threatening it for ten days, since she first discovered themarket with Laurie; but also, after the very awkward breakfast with all these unsaid things floating in the ether, she all but kidnapped me. She’ll be wanting the gossip of course, the full story of me and Jamie. And do you know what? When it comes up, I’m going to tell her. I slept like a log last night, which surprised me when I woke up. It was a thick and dreamless sleep, and in a weird way I think the relief of everything being out in the open worked in my favour. Jamie was nowhere to be seen though – he didn’t come to the room, his bed didn’t look slept in.

‘Right,’ Kate says, with a snap of her fingers. ‘The market is basically over three streets, and we found a really nice bakery with good coffee and an outdoor courtyard, which will be great for a break later. I don’t know which hormone means I get tired now after twenty minutes’ walking, but it has kicked in and the only way not to be mad about it is pastries.’

‘Duly noted,’ I say. ‘They’ll have a toilet, too, so that makes both of us happy.’

‘God, how glamorous we are!’ jokes Kate, linking her arm through mine. ‘I used to be all dancing-all-night and working-all-day, thinking I’d sleep when I was dead! And now I need rest breaks scheduled in, and regular snacks to stop my blood sugar getting too low.’

‘To be fair, I’ve always needed to know where my next meal is coming from.’

‘Ah,’ says Kate, getting my point. ‘You’re a Greenberg. Of course you have.’

‘Glad you understand,’ I quip, and she laughs.

‘God, when I first started seeing Laurie, I’d never known somebody so committed to not only knowing where their next meal was coming from, but also knowing what they were going to eat for the entire day.’

I shrug – like, what can you do? ‘We were raised around the dinner table,’ I say, not sounding one bit sorry. ‘It’s how we measure time.’

Kate laughs again, the sound of somebody hearing something they know to be absolutely true. Then she gestures for me to walk ahead of her, towards the hustle and bustle of people.

The streets are wide and cobbled, with huge ornate buildings towering on either side and a faded old-school vibe, like they’re past their best, but challenging you to find anything more majestic inyourhome town. The shops underneath them are cavernous and dark, filled to the brim with whatever wares they specialise in – although a few shops have guitars next to pots and pans, next to braided bracelets, next to cat food, so I suppose their speciality iseverything.

The fruit-and-veg shops are glorious: mounds of bright-yellow lemons the size of fists spilling out onto the pavement, bunches of green beans and bags of wild garlic. There’s a dried-food store, too, with piles of spices and herbs, buckets of olives in twenty different shades, sizes and flavours: spiced, spicier, pitted, stuffed with cheese, stuffed with peppers, stuffed with garlic … And then linens. Shops filled with starched whitetablecloths with blue embellishments, and baby clothes, too – which Kate makes a beeline for.

‘I know they stay in these for about ten minutes,’ she admires, picking up a tiny cotton onesie. ‘But I want to spend every penny I have on all of them. I thought I’d be a practical, sensible mum … but oh, dear Lord, these things!’

It hits me all over again that I’m going to be an aunt. Kate is an only child, so I will be the only aunt. That’shuge.

‘I always thought I’d be the cool, fun aunt,’ I say, running a hand over a wicker basket full of napkins and making the woman behind the counter tut. I pull my hand away quickly and give her a sheepish smile. ‘But I think I’ll take it all very seriously, you know. Buying her books on feminism and gender theory, and making sure she’s got a good knowledge of the classics, but an appetite for contemporary stories, too …’

‘I think we’ll be relying on you and Alex,’ she smiles. ‘Imagine being born to two lawyers? Boring dot-com. You and Alex will have to show her the arts, broaden her horizons. Well, I expect you will. Alex can be the silly uncle, giving her sweets and fizzy pop and offering to babysit, but then forgetting to show up.’

I smile at her. This is a whole other side to Kate: she’s gone all soft!

‘And Jamie, of course,’ she says, but her back is to me, already leaving the shop and meandering to the next one. I follow, wordlessly. ‘If Laurie gets his acttogether and grovels an apology,’ she adds. ‘I don’t know what came over him last night …’

I look at the imaginary watch on my wrist. ‘Right on time,’ I say, and Kate turns back to give me a butter-wouldn’t-melt look. ‘That’s ten minutes you’ve waited to bring him up.’

‘We can change the subject if you want,’ she offers, but she knows perfectly well I won’t.

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