Page 30 of Love at First Sight

Leo nods. ‘People think being a butcher might not have been an active choice, but it was. Is. I don’t know what kind of kid thinks,Yeah, I’d love to grow up and carve up cows all day, but I did. I didn’t even know anyone who was a butcher. It’s not like mine is a family business or anything like that. My dad always used to get gammon steaks for Saturday-night tea, and a big joint for a Sunday roast. Maybe I relate meat to like … love?’ He bursts out laughing. ‘Jesus,’ he says, waving at the bartender. ‘I need another drink.’

‘That’s nice!’ I insist. ‘I think we’re all just trying to relive our happiest memories, aren’t we? We love something or someone and we do our best to recreate that. Makes sense.’ Leo looks at me like he doesn’t buy what I’m saying. ‘You have happy memories of sausages, and so made a business out of selling them. I longed for an adult to want to stick around, so I’ve looked after the same kid for the past seven years. I mean, I should be charging a hundred pounds an hour for this kind of intelligent insight.’

‘Two beers and two more shots please,’ Leo asks the barman, before turning his attention back to me. ‘You win,’ he says. ‘I’m in a pit of psychological despair now.’ He clicks a tequila glass against mine. ‘Salut!’

The obscene thing about shots is that the more you do, the easier they go down. I don’t even gag this time.

‘Would your best friend be surprised if she saw your face onCrimewatch?’ Leo then asks, apropos of nothing.

‘No,’ I say, and Leo chortles gleefully. ‘What?’ I say, right as he splutters, ‘Jessie, you didn’t even have to think about that! Which begs the question,haveyou ever been onCrimewatch?’

‘Not for anything they could prove,’ I say, and Leo laughs again.

‘Jessie! There you are!’

Dad is all dolled up with – wait for it – a fitted floral shirt and an actual non-ironic silver chain around his neck. All he’s missing is pulled-up socks and a can of lager and he could be a Gen Z poster boy with his own TikTok channel.

‘Here I am!’ I say, which isn’t the friendliest greeting I could give, and I don’t know why I don’t just hug him nicely. ‘With Leo, which isn’t at all weird,’ I add, and Leo and Dad shake hands, Leo saying it’s an honour to be here, et cetera. I hadn’t texted Dad about him inviting Leo, because quite frankly I couldn’t be bothered to get into it. But Dad doesn’t address our togetherness or his role in it, instead beckoning for Simone, whose smile falters enough for me to notice when she sees Dad is with me. She excuses herself from talking to a man with a handlebar moustache and open-toe shoes to come over.

‘Welcome, darling,’ she says, leaning in to air-kiss me on both cheeks. It’s so affected and strange, like she’s a minor celebrity exhausted by the constant attention fromus mere plebs. She extends her engagement-ring hand to Leo. ‘Simone,’ she says. ‘I feel like I recognise you …’

‘Leo,’ Leo says. ‘And it’s probably thrown you that I’ve not got my white butcher’s coat on.’

‘Oh, that’s it! Yes!’ Simone says, and it’s the most upbeat and kind I think I have ever heard her sound. Is this what Dad sees? Because I have never seen this from her. She has never, not once, been upbeat and kind to me. ‘Best brisket we’ve ever had, isn’t it, darling?’ She slips her arm through Dad’s, effectively blocking me off from him.

‘Darling, Max and Oscar want a moment of your time.’ She looks between Leo and me. ‘Pardon us, won’t you?’

When they’ve gone, Leo says, ‘Well fuck. She’s … absolutely been onCrimewatch, hasn’t she? She’s got the demeanour of a serial killer! I never noticed before!’

‘Even if you’re just saying that to be nice to me,’ I say, ‘I appreciate the backup. I feel like I’m saying goodbye to my dad, somehow, and it’s …’ I surprise us both by welling up. ‘Oh!’ I gasp, wafting a hand in front of my face. ‘Sorry! I am so not getting emotional about this. Argh!’

‘Bartender! Another round please!’ Leo yells, then he puts his arm around me and pulls me in close. ‘How do you feel about hitting the dance floor?’ he says, suddenly grabbing my hand and tugging me off my bar stool so he can spin me around. I look at him, surprised. ‘Come on,’ he says, throwing one more shot down his neck before dragging me away from my feelings.

We dance so hard, so sillily, and for so long, that I am wet with sweat by the time Leo pulls me close and murmurs into my ear, ‘I need a fag, babe.’

Like he did two hours ago, he leads me back towards the bar by the hand again, grabbing a couple of beers and then gesturing to the lobby.

‘You can really move!’ Leo says, once we’re out in the sticky Soho night. He saunters over to a couple of people standing on the corner of the street, both drinking pints from the nearby pub, and I see him hold up two fingers to his mouth before the women he’s charming hand over a Marlboro Light and a hot-pink lighter. Whatever he says makes them laugh, and they coo goodbyes after him when he makes his way back to me, a regular James Dean.

‘Andyoucan really flirt,’ I say, jutting my chin in the direction he’s just come from.

‘Oooooh,’ he teases. ‘I love it when you get jealous.’

He smokes, we both drink, and during our break from spinning and bopping we listen to the words of my dad drift out through the open windows of the hotel bar. He’s giving a speech, and I know I should go back inside to listen properly, but I just can’t bring myself to. I catchlove of my lifeandmore than I could have ever dreamed of, then some semblance offinally a family, which makes me screw up my face, and when Leo sees, I style it out by sticking a finger into my mouth and pretending to vomit. Leo tilts his head as he listens, shaking his head in agreed disgust as Simone takes the floor and dedicates a song to Dad, which feels like her way of making sure the spotlight stays firmly onher. We listen for three minutes, pulling faces as Leo finishes his smoke. When the song eventually ends, Leo says, ‘Seriously. I know this must all suck, but I have to compliment your skills as a fantastic dancing partner anyway.’

I’m drunk, and I know I’m drunk because I observe myself as if at a distance. I am out of my body, not in it, watching a show about Jessie instead of being Jessie. Also, I am slurring my words just enough to be the right side of cute. Any more, and I’d be sloppy.

‘What a show though, eh?’ I say, shaking my head sadly. ‘She’s horrible. It’s like she hates me for existing, as if my age is a reminder that she’s seducing an old man for his money. I’m not saying he’s loaded, but he’s mortgage-free and that, you know? Got a nice disposable income after selling his business. He’s totally her meal ticket. She’s got nothing of her own. Tours in this semi-okay band, but totally doesn’t make enough to live the life of bags and trips and houses with roll-top baths that she’d like. She’s going to take half of everything Dad has, and he doesn’t even see it coming.’

Because I am an observer of myself, I see, slowly, Leo’s eyes adjust, and then clock the person at my shoulder.

‘I think you should go home, Jessie,’ Simone says, voice cold as ice. For emphasis she adds, ‘Now.’

She’s heard everything.

I turn around to face her. I’m not one for telling people to fuck off, but the look on Simone’s face … she’s clearly not upset at what she’s just heard me say. If anything, she’s almost pleased. And I can see it all play out so clearly: thesob story she’ll tell Dad, the way she’ll ham it up to him, make everything my fault, force the wedge between father and daughter even wider. And so, because I don’t have anything to lose by saying it, suggesting she fuck off is exactly what I do.

‘You’ll regret saying that to me,’ Simone replies, and I swear she squares up to me, steps forward like she’s willing to take this to a fight if she has to.

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