Page 46 of Fix Them Up
John was Willa’s on-again, off-again boyfriend. I fucking hated John. Willa was the Miranda to my Carrie, always more practical than me, but it didn’t always mean she was invincible. Even if she’d prefer it that way. John – or as I like to call him, ‘fuck-face John’ – was controlling and manipulative. When I’d first met him, I’d had an instant visceral hatred response. We’d met in the new buzzy restaurant in Soho, and all night, John had subtly controlled Willa, monitoring what she ate and drank. I thought maybe I was going mad because everyone else seemed to like him; even Willa’s dad, who was notoriously hard to impress, seemed to like him. They went golfing together.
After six months, John persuaded Willa to rent an apartment with him, but he paid no rent because he had to ‘keep up repair costs’ for his piece-of-shit canal boat.
Yes, he lived on a canal boat.
Since then, John had shown his true colours. He’d cheated on Willa twice, but she took him back. She was hurt and resentful when I tried to host a mini-intervention to point out how horrible he was. So, we don’t often talk about John.
But since I wasn’t in London, if the shit did hit the fan, I wasn’t going to know about it.
However, I promised myself that I’d trust my gut from then on. I’d trust that part of me that knew something was off, that raised the hair on my arms. It was like my spidey sense.
‘We’re not together.’ Another minimal word answer.
‘Oh.’
When I’d left London, they were back together.
‘He’s out of the picture. For good now.’
‘That’s good…’ I said, unsure of what I should say.
‘Yeah, I thought you might be pleased.’
‘Willa –’
‘It’s fine, Kat. More importantly, when can I come up to visit? I want to assess this new housemate you’ve got. Check everything’s above board.’
‘He’s not a housemate, Willa.’
‘Well, he kind of is, isn’t he?’
‘He – it’s a weird arrangement.’
‘If he even thinks about touching you without your consent –’
‘Don’t worry, mama bear,’ I chided. I wish she extended this protectiveness to herself. ‘I have family that would knee him in the balls if he thought about it.’ After Sandra got up in front of all of Everly Heath to ask for help, I think I could bet on her coming to my defence. And the same with Lydia.
Having a family I could rely on was a strangely nice feeling.
I was about to put off a Willa visit when I glanced over at Liam’s house. He was stood in the window looking out at the garden and donned his usual outfit – a black T-shirt, utility trousers and steel-capped boots. A familiar, unreadable expression on his face.
He lifted his cup of tea as if to say,Want one?
I gave him a smile and a thumbs-up and internally cringed at the awkward gesture.
‘Wills – I gotta go. Can I call you later?’
‘Sure. Speak to you later.’ And she hung up.
I walked across the pathway to Liam’s house to find the bifold doors ajar.
‘Morning,’ I called out, taking a seat at the island.
‘Morning,’ Liam replied, pushing over the cup of coffee on the kitchen island. ‘I hadn’t expected you up this early.’
‘What do you mean? I’m coming with you.’
‘No, you’re not.’
