Page 38 of The Notecard
‘Oh, she’s worse than that because she seems so normal, like she has everything together, is living her perfect life, but underneath.’
‘They’re always the worst ones.’
‘They are,’ says Meg, as we prepare to head back inside.
‘Good talking to you.’
‘You too,’ she says, and we smile at each other and hold eye contact for longer than is necessary. I feel like I want to hug her or something, but I think that might be weird. I don’t want to come across as weird. The weird guy from across the hall. Instead Meg walks back inside, and I follow her. I have to break up with Molly. She might go ballistic. She might hate me for the rest of my life, but it’s what’s best. I get back to my flat and the door is open. I walk in and for some reason Dotty is sitting on the sofa with Molly.
‘I can’t believe you’ve never heard of Status Quo. Can you believe this, Nick? She’s never heard of Status Quo. I thought everyone knew the Quo. Rockin’ All Over the World? Whatever You Want?’ says Dotty.
Molly stares blankly at Dotty.
‘Dear me,’ says Dotty.
I smile at Dotty. While Dotty is looking at me, I see Molly point a pretend gun at her head and pull the trigger. I sit down and listen to Dotty explain the cultural significance of Status Quo to Molly, and all I can think about is Meg.
Meg
Back in the flat and it’s time for dinner. The hummus has gone down well, but it’s time to order the Indian. When I walk back in, Mum and Dad are on the sofa, talking as if they never separated, and Laura and Simon are acting like they might separate at any moment. Being outside with Nick felt like a short holiday somewhere warm and relaxing. But now I’m very much back to reality, trudging through the airport and outside into the grey mugginess of England.
‘Ready to order some food?’ I say.
‘I can’t wait,’ says Dad. ‘I love an Indian.’
‘I prefer Thai,’ says Laura, because of course she does.
I ignore her and I’m about to get the menus from the kitchen.
‘First the hummus and now Indian,’ says Laura, and I know she’s going to say something bitchy. She has the look. ‘Let me guess, you bought the cake too?’
‘I did, actually. The bakery on the high street is fantastic.’
I’m not going down that rabbit hole with Laura. If she wants today to be about her, then she’s doing it alone. It’s Dad’s birthday and it’s going to be about him. No arguments. No ‘fucking arsehole’. I walk into the kitchen and get the menus. I give one to Dad and one to Laura. I already know what I’m going to get because Keri and I did a trial run last weekend in preparation. I’m not very adventurous when it comes to spicy food. I’ll order the king prawn tikka masala with pilau rice, garlic naan, and a good selection of poppadoms, chutney, raita, mint sauce, and onion bhajis. Standard. Keri likes a spicy curry. She got the chicken madras.
‘I’ll get the lamb bhuna,’ says Dad.
‘A korma for me,’ says Mum. ‘I know it’s boring, but it’s what I like. Remember when we had that big Indian with Pat and Veronica?’
‘You wanted to try something different,’ says Dad.
‘I got the... what did I get again?’ says Mum.
‘The chicken balti,’ says Dad.
‘The chicken balti,’ says Mum. ‘I couldn’t stop farting, could I Tony?’
‘She couldn’t,’ says Dad, laughing.
‘And the next day, oh my lord, I was on the toilet all day,’ says Mum. ‘That’s why I stick to the korma.’
‘Simon will have the lamb jalfrezi,’ says Laura. ‘And I’ll have the butter chicken.’
‘Will that be all?’ I say.
‘What about all the bits and pieces?’ says Mum.
‘Your naan breads, your chutneys, your onion bhajis?’ says Dad.
