Page 72 of From Now On

‘I don’t know, Charlie. I’m not Mrs bloody Hinch.’

Charlie doesn’t know who that is, but he does know something is wrong.

‘Have I done something to upset you?’

‘You woke me late last night, slamming the taxi door and giggling with… whoever.’

‘I’m sorry.’ He feels that today he has apologised, at least once, to just about everyone. He fumbles to pat Billie who had been sitting on the doorstep at his side, to reassure himself that somebody still likes him but she has squeezed through the gap in Pippa’s front door and is now sitting in the hallway, pressing her head against Pippa’s legs. ‘That… last night was a mistake. She turned out to be Nina’s teacher.’

‘Miss Rudd?You brought Miss Rudd home?’

‘I didn’t know it was her.’

‘Does Nina know?’

‘Sadly so.’

‘That would account for the shouting. You’d better come in.’ She opens the door wide and he follows her into the kitchen, which is just like the one next door except everything is in reverse. He sits at the breakfast bar while Pippa makes coffee. He takes a sip and it scalds his mouth and he takes another, welcoming the pain, a penance almost.

‘I was drunk last night.’ His words settle immediately.

Shocked, she turns to face him. ‘But Charlie, you don’t drink.’

‘No.’

‘Not since…’

‘No.’

She reaches for his hand, traces her finger over the scars on his wrist. His skin tingles under her touch, his heart accelerates. She knows that turning to alcohol isn’t something he’d do lightly. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

‘Yes. No. I don’t know. I’m messing it all up, Pippa.’ He tells her about the row with Nina, his fears that she might have developed feelings for Sean.

‘It’s a crush. It’s natural. Maeve’s a decent girl and she can only be that if she had a decent father. Sean’s done a great job bringing her up alone. I don’t think you’ve anything to worry about. He has a teenage daughter; even if he suspects Nina has developed feelings for him he won’t act on them. He’s a good dad.’

‘Am I… am I like my dad?’

‘No. Christ, Charlie. No.’

‘Nina said some… things and I didn’t handle it very well. It was all too much yesterday, the memorial, the… the memories.’

‘Come on.’ Pippa picks up their mugs and leads him into the living room.

The bookshelves are empty, books stacked on the floor. There are cardboard boxes on the dining table.

‘Having a clear-out?’ She can’t meet his eye. His stomach drops. ‘Pippa?’

She takes her time setting their drinks down on the table. ‘After Aunt Violet took your house off the market the estate agent knocked on the doors of all the neighbours, including me. He had a couple looking to buy on this street, she grew up here, and…’ She swallows hard. ‘I didn’t want to worry you because I wasn’t sure but they came for a viewing and made an offer and…I don’t know what I’m going to do yet but I need to sort through Grandma’s things eventually.’ Her hands twist together in front of her.

Because one day she might leave.

It’s how he imagines being struck by a bolt of lightning might feel: sharp, shocking and completely unwelcome.

His knees fold of their own accord and he sinks down onto the sofa, head in his hands.

It isn’t until this moment that he finally admits to himself that he hasn’t come here to ask about the freezer. He doesn’t care about the freezer. It was an excuse, all of it. He’s a thirty-three-year-old intelligent male. All along he had known how to work a washing machine, how to plan meals. He knew all of it but he didn’t feel he had the right to a friendship with Pippa and so he appealed to her good nature to help him because he wanted to spend time with her.

He’s a thirty-three-year-old intelligent male but he’s an idiot.

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