‘Why haven’t you called him?’ Tansy demanded.
We were sitting in Miss Marmalade, a cosy bungalow café, nestled into a corner booth, filled with plump pink cushions. Tansy, sleep-deprived, had almost fallen asleep twice in five minutes. She’d apologised – having three children meant sleep was a foreign concept. She’d also brought her toddler Brie with her, who was happily biting down on an old rabbit toy as if it tasted like chocolate.
In a few minutes, we’d managed a quick catch-up of events. Tansy had shared how it had been seven years since she’d gone to the toilet or had a shower by herself, and thank goodness for the new au pair who was looking after Toby, all of which reminded me of what my life might have been like, had I stayed and married Murray. And I’d given Tansy my highlights reel of my last seven years, finishing with Nick without adding in the not showing up to a seafood lunch bit, because I couldn’t bring myself to say it aloud yet. Which had made her eyes widen. She’d muttered, ‘Oh, wow, single life,’ and then demanded I call him.
‘Nick sounds really nice. Give me one bad thing about him,’ Tansy protested on behalf of a man she’d never met.
‘He sleeps with girls on the first night,’ I pointed out then added silently, and he gives girls the wrong phone number.
‘And so did you,’ Tansy challenged me.
‘Exactly! It was a fling, and a really good one, but nothing more than that.’ I took a bite of my sourdough toast with avocado. ‘Besides, I’m not looking for a fling. I want to find someone, you know, forever.’
‘Well,’ Tansy said, thinking aloud. ‘He seems to like everything you do: travelling, he’s got banter, he’s apparently gorgeous, he’s got a good career—’
‘Which he seemed to really hate.’
Tansy raised her eyebrows. ‘You’ve never regretted a job?’ Then kept on rattling off her list. ‘He’s got a timeshare in Fiji, which means he’s financially stable, he’s spontaneous, going for a skinny dip, but seemed attentive what with getting you drinks and towels, and being quite a gentleman. Yes, he slept with you on the first night – I’m not suggesting you marry him, but a little coffee date could be good,’ Tansy said, nibbling the side of her cream cheese blueberry bagel, then she put it down and yawned. ‘Speaking of coffees, where are ours?’
She looked up at the waitress in hope, who signalled they’d be out shortly.
‘I think really all he wanted was to get in my trousers.’ I smiled wryly. ‘And he did a very good job.’
Tansy looked down at my comfy extra-large black trousers, which I’d chosen because they were the only ones in my wardrobe that still fitted. ‘Well, they are nice trousers.’
We laughed. We’d always shared the same type of humour since we met at kindergarten.
‘These? Did you want a catwalk? I’ve been to Italy, I know how they do it in Milan,’ I said in a fun, teasing voice, kicking out a leg trying to look seductive, but ending up looking more like an awkward newborn fawn learning to walk.
‘Well, I think you should consider him, at least for a coffee.’ Tansy was as stubborn as a mule most of the time. But I loved that about her.
I shrugged.
Tansy swallowed audibly and paused, before finally saying, ‘Have you talked to him since you got back?’
‘Him?’ Then I realised she didn’t mean Nick, she meant Murray. He’s not coming.
Tansy must have seen the look on my face, because she quickly said, ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.’ She looked flustered.
‘It’s OK.’ I looked at her. ‘It was a long time ago. And no, to answer your question, I haven’t seen him, talked to him, thought about him. Much.’
‘Facebook stalked?’
I half smiled. ‘Maybe once. Years ago.’
‘And?’
‘He’d blocked me. But I heard through the grapevine, he’s married. Kids. House in the burbs. All the trimmings.’
‘Oh.’
I took a sip of water. ‘It’s OK, Tans, it is. I didn’t want those things.’
‘Didn’t or don’t?’ she asked softly.
‘Didn’t.’ I looked up at her. ‘I mean, I still don’t want a house with a massive mortgage, on the busline, and a nine to five job in an office for another forty years. But I think I do want to get a job, buy a house, and get married.’
‘You think?’
‘Fine, I want. Is that better?’ I decided to tell Tansy about The Plan. It was pinned to my corkboard at home, so it was the first thing I saw when I woke up each morning. I’d even gone as far as to cut out some images that looked like the house I’d want (country cottage) and some really cheesy advertisements of couples laughing as they did things together (I think they were trying to sell mortgage insurance). It felt extremely cheesy, but vision boards were a thing, apparently; besides, it couldn’t hurt. I confessed all this to Tansy.
When she finished laughing, she said brightly, ‘Well, didn’t Nick give you his number? Step three, possible tick.’
I groaned. ‘Marrying us off already? Please. Anyway, the number he gave me could be a fake. It could be for the local pizza place.’
‘Well, I could go for a full meat-lovers with barbecue sauce.’ Tansy sighed. ‘I’m all for eating my feelings at the moment. Or just eating for energy. I’m so tired I can’t tell any more.’ Tansy was as slim as a rake, and tall, she’d be a size ten at the most, and had beautiful long dark hair, dark cocoa eyes, and olive skin. The last thing she needed to worry about was eating too much.
I handed her the menu. ‘I’m a supportive friend – if you need to eat everything on this menu, I’ll pay for half. I’d pay for it all, but, you know.’ I shook my wallet and a scant few coins jangled. ‘I don’t know if I could cover it.’
Tansy grinned ruefully. ‘This friend doesn’t need your money. She just wants her friend to find a partner, so she has something to do on the weekends when the rest of us are knee-high in diapers.’ She scanned the menu. ‘Although a little piece of lemon pie couldn’t hurt, could it?’
‘Get the lemon pie,’ I encouraged her. ‘Anyway, sometimes it’s better not knowing. What if I tried to call Nick, and got Luigi’s pizza palace? Sometimes ignorance is bliss.’
‘What do you mean?’
I quickly told her about sitting at Freshwaters, and his disconnected number. I brushed it off a bit, but it had really hurt. She let out a long huffy breath ‘What is with some people? God. I’m sorry that happened to you. You’re right don’t ever call him. Well you don’t have his number to call, do you? What a dick. We shall never ever speak of him again.’
I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me, she really was the most loyal friend. ‘Thanks Tansy. Anyway’ I said, keen to change the subject. ‘I do need to find a job though.’ I opened up the newspaper on the café’s table in front of us. All I could see were ads for chefs and kitchen hands, so I shut it firmly. It reminded me too much of Los Tacos, which made me shudder as the waitress delivered our coffees. ‘What about public relations? Or marketing? Do you think I could do that back here?’
Tansy narrowed her eyes at me suspiciously. ‘Need I remind you of how much you wanted to leave your marketing job? I believe you told me never to let you work in an office again.’