Page 85 of Special Delivery
And that was the other thing. When Henry had called Willa the love of his life, a tiny part of her had died. A flame she hadn’t even known was still flickering had been abruptly extinguished, and it left her feeling cold and clammy and so fucking stupid. She’d always assumed they were each other’s Big Love. Soul mates who belonged together like two pieces of a jigsaw in which their families and friends and hopesand dreams all neatly aligned. She’d been swept away by the Patrick-ness of Patrick—he was loud and exuberant and a show-off and made her feel special—but he never understood her the way Henry did. She’d assumed it was a matter of timing that she hadn’t ended up with Henry—they got together too early in life—but increasingly over the past few years she’d secretly believed it was a shame. They would have been perfect for each other. If Patrick had married her, he could have kept her in designer dresses and taken her on glamorous, champagne-filled holidays, and she would have made it work—hell, she would have really enjoyed parts of it. But there would never have been the deep, enduring peace of solid, boring, I-know-what-you’re-thinking-so-don’t-say-it love. The love that cushioned you when you sat on separate couches reading the paper, not even talking, but happier in each other’s presence. The love you felt when having the other person nearby made you more complete, as if the light reflecting off them lit you up from within and made you the best and happiest version of yourself.
But no, that had all been in her head. Henry didn’t feel the same deep-rooted connection. The love of his life was a paediatrician with luminescent skin. One who’d left him, no less. Well, life was a cruel joke, wasn’t it?
Dani sloshed milk into her bowl of Cornflakes.
‘Well, who knew?’ she said (rhetorical again). ‘Our girl is a man-eater.’
‘No I’m not,’ Poppy cried. The shame of the Henry kiss was throbbing painfully at her temples.
‘It was a joke, Pops.’
‘It wasn’t funny,’ snapped Poppy. ‘This stuff always happens to me, Dan. My life is a fucking debacle.’
Dani lowered her spoon. ‘Poppy, you’re being way too melodramatic about this.’
‘But my life is a disaster,’ Poppy wailed. ‘I screwed up the Henry thing ten years ago and now I’ve screwed it up with James before I could even work out what was going on.’
‘Pops, that’s literally two bad things in ten years. Most people would consider that a pretty solid track record.’
‘Oh yeah? And would they consider it good form to waste nine years with an absolute prick who gets me knocked up and then leaves?’
‘Poppy, listen to yourself. You didn’t waste nine years; it wasn’t perfect with Patrick, but you guys had fun, right? And look what you got out of it: a beautiful little girl. You can’t say that relationship was for nothing.’
‘Of course you’d say that.’
‘What does that mean?’ asked Dani, her voice becoming deathly quiet.
‘You were the one who convinced me to hook up with Patrick, so obviously—’
‘Iconvinced you to hook up with him?!’
‘Yes! That night at the Sheaf. You literally pushed me into him!’
‘Oh my god, Poppy, we were twenty-two years old! I was being a good wing woman!’
‘Yeah but then Henry never called, and Mum thought Patrick was the bees’ knees and then Dad never said anything, and no one told me I was living with a self-absorbed narcissist and look at how my life has turned out! I’m a single mother and—’
‘Poppy, stop! You’re a grown woman. No-one forced you to stay with Patrick for nine years. No-one forced you not to wear a condom! At some point you’ve got to take responsibility for your own life. I mean, I know my life is chaos, but at least I own that. Don’t get me wrong, Pops, I love you to bits, but this constant victimhood is ridiculous. Some people have it so much worse. Maeve is a good baby, she’s ahealthybaby. I mean, she can link her sleep cycles! Some poor women never get more than forty minutes of unbroken sleep, or they have sick kids, or they can’t even have kids. Everyone has shit going on, Poppy. It’s not just you. Like, have you even bothered to ask how Sam is lately? Because he’s shit. His mum’s cancer is back and it’s so fucking horrible and—’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Poppy interrupted, aghast.
‘I tried, Pops,’ said Dani sadly. ‘I tried so many times, but you always had nappy-rash questions and breastfeeding crises, and there were so many other things going on for you it just wasn’t a priority.’
‘Of course it’s a priority!’ cried Poppy. ‘Oh god, poor Sam. His poor mum. I’m so sorry, Dani. I had no idea.’
‘Forget it,’ said Dani, standing up to rinse her bowl and put it in the dishwasher. She checked her watch. ‘I’d better get going anyway.’
‘You’re leavingnow? I thought we were going to hang out?’
‘It’s a long drive back,’ said Dani, pulling on her cardigan. ‘And you said we’re not going out for breakfast.’
Poppy stared at her friend. This was not what Poppy wanted. She wanted to curl up on the couch with mugs of tea and blankets and chat about nothing and everything withher dearest friend in the world, and she wanted it to be like old times, and she wanted to have done nothing wrong, and she wanted to apologise, and she wanted to be a better person, someone who didn’t say dumb stuff. She wanted to be like Dani, she wanted to be in charge, and she wanted—more than anything—to take back everything she’d said and done last night and lock those memories up for good and throw away the key so she’d never have to feel those feelings again. But instead, she watched her best friend pack her things and walk out to her car. Poppy didn’t have the words to describe how sorry she was.
CHAPTER 36
Poppy squinted into the mirror. It wasn’t her imagination. Her skin was as grey and saggy as a baby elephant’s. Maybe she was anaemic? Could that be the cause of all her woes? She made a mental note to defrost the mince just in case.
She hadn’t heard from Dani since she’d reversed out of Poppy’s driveway twenty-four hours ago and the silence between them was nuclear. It was a gloopy, radioactive, horrible mess and it was going to drown her. She’d sent four unanswered texts, including a gif of Ryan Gosling saying,Sorry, I Love You, which she immediately regretted. Apart from her lanky husband, Dani liked big beefy dreadlocked dudes with calf muscles the size of human skulls. Dani wasn’t a Ryan Gosling girl; she was a Jason Momoa girl. What the hell had Poppy been thinking?! Now she had no idea what her next move should be. Did Dani want more space, or was she pissed off Poppy hadn’t called already? Poppy was terrified of getting it wrong. She kept finding herself on the verge ofcalling Dani to ask her what she thought she should do before remembering she couldn’t. She missed Dani so much already, she couldn’t bear the thought of making it worse.
