Page 47 of The Notecard
At least five times.
‘I needed to fly first class to relax after the shock. I mean, New York, Megs. And the hotel, Megs. Oh my god, it’s incredible. Five stars.’
‘We’re off to Hugh’s comedy thing tonight…’
‘Okay, gotta go. Simon says we’re going on a horse and cart. Around Central Park. Just like in the movies. Bye, Megs,’ says Laura.
Before I have the chance to say goodbye, she is already gone. She’s too busy on her pre-wedding honeymoon. They are going on an actual honeymoon to the Seychelles as well. The pre-wedding honeymoon was a surprise. Simon arranged the whole thing behind her back, which is lovely, but it means we aren’t going to hear the end of it. The doorbell goes. We aren’t expecting anyone. I get a text from Dad saying he’s outside. I buzz him in, then open our front door.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ says Keri. ‘I could use a cup of tea to settle my nerves.’
Keri wanders off to the kitchen as Dad comes walking in. He’s wearing a horrendous orange cardigan with a brown zigzag design. It’s one of his worst. We say hello, and he gives me a quick kiss on the cheek.
‘Tea?’ shouts Keri from the kitchen.
‘Oh, yes please,’ shouts Dad. ‘I’m gasping’
Dad’s version of gasping means he hasn’t had a cup of tea for fifteen minutes.
‘Me too,’ I shout.
‘Me three,’ says Hugh coming out of the bathroom. ‘Oh, hello.’
Dad and Hugh shake hands before Hugh goes off to join Keri in the kitchen. Dad and I sit in the living room. Dad has the look of a man who wants to say something. Since his birthday, which will forever go down as the birthday we ended up covered in curry and Boob-Gate, things have been tense between my parents. Despite the horrific image that’s still locked in my mind of my parents snogging in my bathroom, and of Mum’s loose boob in Dad’s hand, I was hopeful it meant they would be getting back together. Sadly, it hasn’t happened, and I know it’s tearing Dad apart. I think he thought it would mean the end of the separation. Mum had different ideas. Dad is confused. I think Mum’s being a bit unfair. Poor old Dad looks tired and emotionally drained.
‘It’s me and your mum,’ says Dad. ‘I don’t know what’s going on and it’s driving me round the bend, love. I can’t sleep, eat, and even my driving has suffered. I lost concentration today and almost drove through a red light. I nearly ploughed through a herd of Italian tourists. I’m just not myself, love. I’m losing weight.’
‘That wouldn’t be a bad thing,’ I say because Dad’s a few stone overweight. One of the side effects of being a driver, Dad always says. I don’t think the daily fry-ups help.
‘I’ve been listening to George Michael all day.’
‘Why George Michael?’
‘Careless Whispers was the first song at our wedding.’
‘I think it’s called Careless Whisper.’
‘Yeah, I know, Meg, but your mum always called it Careless Whispers, and I can’t change it back again. That’s just what we call it.’
Keri comes out with tea followed by Hugh. They pass mugs of tea around and sit down.
‘Hugh’s performing at a comedy club tonight,’ I say.
‘It’s a big deal,’ says Keri.
‘How big of a deal?’ says Dad, slurping on his tea.
‘Big, big,’ says Hugh. ‘I’m just grateful Sophie will be there.’
‘Whose Sophie?’ says Dad.
‘Sophie Mill, she’s another comedian,’ says Hugh. ‘We met on the circuit. She’s brilliant. Another level up from me. She went to Cambridge. She was in the Footlights. She’s just incredible, and so supportive of other comedians too.’
‘I’ve never heard of her before,’ I say, taking a sip of my tea.
‘Hugh’s always talking about Sophie Mill,’ says Keri, a little intensely. ‘It’s literally all he talks about these days. Sophie Mill this. Sophie Mill that. Sophie Mill’s podcast. She was on TV.’
I look at Keri, and she looks tense. And strange. And not like Keri. She has the same look on her face when she was stalking Jack Cromwell. Her avocado. This isn’t good.
