Page 51 of Did My Love Life Shrink in the Wash?
Bit old? They’re Stella McCartney for Adidas and they’re easily two hundred pounds. Is she gifting these to me? If so, I’ve forgiven her rat dog and his tiny weak bladder.
‘Saves you having to walk home in wet shoes.’
‘Thanks.’
She hands me a Chloé shopping bag for my wet trainers and notices the bottom of my dress is wet from where I had to wring that out too. Please do not embarrass me by offering to lend me clothes.
‘I’ll get a hairdryer out and we can sort that too.’
‘I have a baby. I am used to these things now. It’s why I don’t own anything nice.’
She half-smiles. She then does something very strange, putting her dog down and going over to the toilet, pulling down her trousers and proceeding to have a wee herself. I am still in the room, woman. Do I leave? I turn, falling to a squat position to put on the trainers. I can hear her wee. Don’t do anything more, pretty please. Is that what this means, now that you’re playing my son’s mum, we need to develop some sort of familiar bond?
‘This is a tad awkward…’ she says, unravelling loo roll. You think? We’re conversing through this too? ‘But what happened the other day, what you saw with Harry. Have you told anyone?’
‘I have no one to tell,’ I reply. That is a lie. I told the sisters.
‘It’s not what you think.’
‘I don’t know you well enough to think anything.’
‘Well, you probably remember me as some complete bitch from school. I mean, I practically invented the rumour mill.’ It’s a bold assumption to make but not far from the truth. ‘But whatever pre-conceived notion you have based on our school days, you should know I’m not a homewrecker.’
I don’t respond. I feel like I’m being told off by her.
‘And I do remember you now. I think I only passed English literature because of you.’
I pause for a moment over my laces. She remembers that?
‘You passed because you stole my work. You plagiarised a whole essay off me.’
‘Yeah, it’s pretty much how I got through secondary education. You’re not the one I paid to do my coursework, are you?’
‘No. I actually got nothing in return. Not even a thank you.’
She shrugs back at me. I mean, I leant on Emma and Meg a fair bit but yes, she was renowned for being a blagger, a slag, a bitch, for getting away with murder mainly because of how she looked. I’m glad she has that much insight into herself to know how it would have garnered her a reputation. But does this mean she’s changed? I still don’t want to turn and see her on the loo so am grateful to hear my phone ping in my bag and go to find it to escape the awkwardness. It’s a message from Will.
I’ll be late again tonight. These deadlines can fuck off. Lemons xx
Oh. Again? All that suspicion and bad feeling is brought to the surface once more. I hear the toilet flush and turn to see Yasmin reading the expression in my face immediately.
‘You OK?’
‘Just a text from my boyfriend.’ I wish I’d said that with less worry in my tone.
‘Phil?’
‘Will.’
‘Oh yeah.’
We look at each other. It’s a strange look. There are stories here, and information to share but I’m not sure I want to share it with you, of all people. Something’s up with Will. You were snogging a married man. You just peed in front of me and are going to be my son’s new mother. I don’t like you much. She comes over to wash her hands.
‘Keep those trainers,’ she tells me.
‘Really?’
‘They’resolast season. I’d have given them to the charity shop otherwise. I’ll hit Stella up for some more.’
