Page 82 of Is She Really Going Out with Him?
“I think that’s called speed dating,” I tell him.
“What’s speed dating?” Jess asks, and once I’ve explained the concept, Ethan and Jess agree this sounds like an excellent plan and I open my laptop to do some research.
“Look, there’s an over-thirty-fives event. Mum, that’s you,” says Jess, pointing at the screen.
“I don’t know if this strictly meets the column’s criteria,” I say with a frown. “You really can’t think of anyone else?”
The doorbell rings, and I go to open the door. On the doorstep is Noah, holding a mangled milk carton.
“Foxes got into your bin again,” he says gruffly, pointing at our wheelie bin. “I’ve just cleaned it up. You need to put a sturdy brick on the top if you’re going to put rubbish outbeforethe morning of collection.”
“Thank you, but I did put a brick on it,” I say, irritated by this admonishment.
“It can’t have been big enough,” says Noah.
“Maybe the foxes are getting stronger. Maybe they’re evolving, working together to get the bricks off the bins,” I suggest, my eyes falling to Noah’s feet, where I see he’s wearing odd socks. One is a smart red tartan, the other gray and woolen.
“Just try to be more vigilant,” he grumbles, turning to stomp down the steps, then calling back, “And fill in the form for the hedge arbitration.”
I close the door, muttering to myself, “I’ll show you more vigilant.” Then when I turn around, Ethan and Jess are looking at me with identical looks on their face.
“Oh no, no, no, no. Not him. Veto, huge veto,” I say, raising both palms in the air.
“I don’t think you have any vetoes left, Mum,” Jess says with a sly grin.
Google searches:
Can foxes move bricks off bins?
Videos of foxes moving bricks off bins
If there are no blue ticks on a WhatsApp message, does that mean they haven’t read it?
How do you know if they have disabled read receipts?
Will Havers, LinkedIn
Chapter 26
That night, lying in mynewly arranged bed, I check my phone for the fiftieth time that evening. Will must have switched his phone back on by now, but still he hasn’t replied to my WhatsApp. Not that Ineedhim to text me, but it would be polite. The ticks have not gone blue, but when I scroll back to previous messages I see none of the ticks have gone blue, so maybe he has disabled read receipts. Is that something people do? Should I be doing that in order to retain an air of mystery? I close my eyes and groan in frustration.
Dating anyone is fraught with risk—the risk they might be a psycho like Neil, a fraud like Parma ham Richard, or a creep like Ryan Stirling. But getting involved with someone like Will, who Iknowis leaving, who I know doesn’t want anything serious, that is a different kind of dangerous. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to have a weekend like we just had and then be fine about his not texting me back. I distract myself by sending Michael two Janeites I have found on dating apps: Olivia fromthe Cotswolds and Jane (I know) from Bradford-on-Avon. They both seem keen to meet Michael, and I have high hopes for Jane, whose bio contains a quote fromPersuasion.
Beep.What is that? A high-pitched beep, just one sharp sound, then roughly five minutes later another one,beep. Now I can’t sleep until I find out where that’s coming from.Beep.How are Jess and Ethan sleeping through that? It’s so loud and so annoying. Shuffling along the corridor, I locate the source of the noise—it’s coming from the smoke alarm. A red “battery” light is flashing. It’s plugged into the mains, but maybe the backup battery is running low. Whatever it is, I can’t reach to turn it off.
Maybe I can ignore it until morning. It hasn’t woken the children. But once I’m back in bed, all the earplugs in the world won’t block out the high-pitched “yip” sound. I’m going to have to try to reach it.
Taking a chair from my room, I head back out to the landing, but stretching up on tiptoes while standing on the chair, I’m still a foot away. Just as I’m about to climb down, Jess opens her bedroom door, then screams when she sees me. The shock of seeing her sets me off too, and both of us screaming wakes Ethan, who comes out of his room armed with a giant Squishmallow.
“Why are you standing right outside my room like that?” Jess asks, trying to catch her breath.
“The smoke alarm is beeping. It’s driving me nuts,” I explain, pointing up at the box, which beeps again as though to illustrate my point. “I can’t reach to turn it off.”
“So ignore it,” Jess says with a shrug, slipping past me to use the bathroom.
“I can’tignoreit. I have tried to ignore it. These things are designed to be unignorable.”
“Can we use a ladder?” Ethan asks, sensibly.
