Page 32 of The Vintage Dress Shop in Primrose Hill
‘What the…?’
Egan didn’t deserve his voice to be announced in a stagy whisper, like his presence was a big deal. Even if Sophy hadn’t seen him since that day six weeks before when she’d left her door keys on the hall table that she’d actually paid for. Then, apart from a couple of terse messages about picking up the rest of her stuff and the outstanding utilities bills, they’d gone from eight years of being together to silence.
Now the thought of taking the ten steps into the living room filled Sophy with nothing but an irritable kind of gloom as she brushed past Caroline, but not before sharing an exasperated glance with her mother.
Egan was sitting in Mike’s chair, his leather recliner with cup holder and a holster on the other side for the remote control, though Caroline and Sophy loved to wind him up by changing the channels using the app on their phones. He smiled at the sight of Sophy, though she didn’t smile back but just folded her arms and looked down at him. In much the same way that Lollipopwas looking at Mike from his perch on the back of the sofa. Disapproving. Very, very disapproving. Not even Coco Chanel could look as judgemental as Lollipop when he really put his mind to it.
Not that there was anything particularly offensive about the way Egan looked. He was handsome in an everyday kind of way that you didn’t have to think too hard about. Dark hair, dark eyes, an olive complexion, which complemented the expensive veneers he’d had done for his thirtieth birthday. He was wearing his second favourite shirt, a blue Ralph Lauren number, his Sunday casual chinos, his second favourite pair of trainers, his second favourite aftershave and an ingratiating expression.
‘Hey, Soph! Surprise!’ he said in a jaunty, jovial voice like he didn’t realise that Sophy low-key kind of hated him now.
‘What do you want, Egan?’ She rolled her eyes because she knew exactly what he wanted. ‘I’m not paying the cable bill when most of it is for your premium sports channels that I never even watched. And I’m not paying the outstanding amount on the utilities bills either. Not when I bought most of the furniture in your flat,as well as paying rent.’
‘Come on, don’t be like that,’ Egan said, doing that thing he did with his eyebrows where he kind of knitted them together so they almost touched in the middle. ‘I can’t believe you’re still mad at me.’
Sophy flung herself down on the sofa. She couldn’t believe she was still mad at Egan either. It was so weird to see him sitting there. It felt a lot like he was a stranger. Which was crazy because, apart from Cress, Egan was the person whom Sophy knew better than anyone. She knew everything about him; and yet every year he’d needed reminding of the exact date of her birthday.
Usually this unhappy fact about Egan made Sophy clench her fists, but her hands were in her lap and that was when she realised that shewasn’t mad at Egan any more. She was just over him. Had been over him almost as soon as they’d called it quits.
She hadn’t been pining for him. Neither had she been nostalgic for the good times that they’d had, because the good times had become so rare and mostly their relationship had been routine, apart from the times when they sniped at each other. Or rather Sophy had sniped at Egan, constantly. His crimes had ranged from leaving his used teabags on the draining board and expecting Sophy to speak to his mother every Sunday afternoon while he went down the pub, to eyeing up other women when they were out. No big crimes of passion. No huge rows. A constant low-level bickering had been the soundtrack of their relationship.
So Sophy could say with all honesty, ‘I’m not mad at you. Not any more. We were going nowhere, weren’t we?’
‘I wouldn’t say that.’ Egan gave her a considered look. ‘I’ve missed you, Soph.’
‘You sound quite surprised about that. You sure you’re not missing the five hundred quid a month I was paying you in rent, even though you didn’t even have a mortgage?’ Sophy finished on a huff because maybe she was still a little bit mad with Egan. ‘Didn’t even show me one bit of sympathy about losing my job and not getting my last month’s wages and all the Christmas overtime I was owed… No! I am not doing this. I don’t want to fight with you any more.’
‘Could have fooled me,’ Egan muttered. Five minutes and they’d already slipped back into their usual bickering ways.
Sophy attempted a smile that felt more like a teeth-baring grimace. ‘See? I’m calm. So, what’s up with you?’
There was nothing up with Egan. Apart from the absence of Sophy, his life was following its usual pattern. Work, gym, beers and bantz with the lads. Lather, rinse, repeat.
But then Sophy’s life, before it had quietly imploded, had meant working nine hours a day, longer during their frequent sales and in the run-up to Christmas, clear up after Egan, drinks with the girls on Saturday night if she wasn’t already dead on her feet. Lather, rinse, repeat.
After a lengthy monologue on how he was now experimenting with macro counting in his eternal quest to bulk up, Egan suddenly remembered how conversations were meant to work.
‘And you? What’s new? Your mum said you’restilltalking about going to Australia. Wish I could take some time off for a long holiday,’ he said, because he definitely was still a little mad at Sophy too.
‘It’s not a holiday, I’m emigrating. And I’m not just talking about it, it’s really happening. Going to stay with my grandparents on their farm to start with; it’s their golden wedding anniversary in August.’ Sophy got that scrunched-up feeling in her tummy that she always did when she manifested an image of herself being at one with the sheep, half excitement and half nerves. She also allowed herself to revel in the stupefied look on Egan’s face. She wasn’t completely predictable. ‘And I did tell you that Radha was getting married in October and asked me to be one of her bridesm—’
‘Yeah, but emigrating. To Australia. That’s a bit extreme.’ Egan grinned. ‘You’re gonna be crap on a farm, Soph. Do you remember that time we went to that festival and we were driving through the countryside, got a whiff of some manure and you started retching?’
‘I didn’t retch.’ It had actually been more of a dry-heave. ‘I was hungover!’
‘We did have it large the night before. It was Paulie’s birthday, right?’
Sophy nodded. ‘I haven’t drunk tequila since.’
‘Or danced on any bars?’ Egan had that easy smile that Sophy hadn’t seen in ages. It was quite nice to remember that it hadn’t been all bad.
‘I was lucky not to have broken every bone in my body,’ she said with a smile of her own and it was so much better to be civil, amiable instead of trying to score points off each other.
‘So, I was thinking…’ Egan struck a pensive pose, which didn’t really suit him. ‘It was kind of a dick move to charge you rent and I can manage without that five hundred quid a month, but…’ He leaned forward to put his hand on Sophy’s knee and she tried not to tense up at the strangely unfamiliar yet familiar touch. From the sofa, Lollipop hissed out a warning, like Caroline had planted him there as a chaperone. ‘I can’t manage without you. Don’t suppose you fancy moving back in?’
‘Oh, Egan…’ Sophy patted his hand. It was lovely to be asked, to know that on some level she mattered to him. Being back with Egan would beeasy. But she didn’t want any more ‘what if’ moments. She didn’t want to miss out on really living in favour of just plodding through each day as it came.
Nothing in her life was easy right now. Not the job at The Vintage Dress Shop. Or the logistics of her new life in the Antipodes – which reminded Sophy that she still hadn’t got the documents she needed from Johnno. The delightful interludes with Charles were charged because Sophy had feelings for him that she had no business to, not when he was just being kind. Even being back at home was hard when she wasstillsleeping on the sofa.
