Lucy in the Sky

I collapse down on the bench afterhalf an hour on the dance floor. He’s not a bad dancer, especially when he’s had a few. Now he draws me to him for a passionate snog. When we pull away, Jeremy is coming back to the table, grinning at us, dirtily.
    James leans back in again and nibbles my earlobe, then growls in my ear, ‘Let’s get out of here.’
    Chloe is sitting further down the bench, laughing and talking intimately to Bryce. William seems to have left already. We offer to call her a cab but she’s having far too much fun to leave, so we say our goodbyes.
    My gorgeous boyfriend and I, meanwhile, will go home and have mind-blowing sex.

Chapter 20
    The phone rings at nine o’clock the next morning and I snatch it from the bedside table.
    ‘Hello?’ I ask sleepily.
    ‘Oh, bloody hell, have I done it again?’ Molly gasps. ‘What time is it?’
    Laughing, I tell her.
    ‘Ah, that’s alright. Get up, you lazy sod!’
    I glance over as James groans and pulls his pillow over his head, then I grab my dressing gown and go through to the living room. My head is pounding.
    ‘Urgh,’ I say to Molly. ‘Sorry about that. Just had to get out of the bedroom. Big night last night.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Yeah, but how are you?’ I ask groggily.
    ‘Really good, thanks,’ she answers, then says excitedly, ‘I’ve got some news.’
    My God, is she pregnant?
    ‘Oh, you’re not…’ I almost start screaming down the phone.
    ‘I’m not what?’ She’s confused.
    ‘Sorry,’ I reply. ‘Go on.’
    ‘Nathan’s going to London!’ she bleats.
    ‘Oh, I know that.’ I laugh, and immediately realise my mistake. Molly and Sam don’t know that Nathan and I have been chatting.
    ‘You know ?’ she asks, taken aback. Okay, the truth is out, and I’m just going to have to deal with it.
    ‘Yes,’ I answer. ‘He called me a couple of weeks ago and told me.’
    Now, this is a tricky one. Do I tell her the full extent of our chats and chance her getting suspicious or do I water it down and risk her asking him about it? Oh, the web of lies you’re weaving, Lucy McCarthy…
    ‘He didn’t tell me that!’ She’s disappointed at not being the one to break the news.
    ‘Oh, you know, obviously just thought he’d better…’ I trail off. ‘Anyway! Isn’t it exciting!’
    ‘Yes, although Sam and I are desperately jealous. We will make it over there one of these days.’
    ‘You’d better! It would be about bloody time…’
    ‘So,’ she continues, ‘if he gets there on the last Saturday in September, you might even be able to go to the airport and meet him?’
    My heart skips a beat. ‘Has he actually booked his ticket, then?’
    ‘I thought you said you knew!’
    ‘No, I mean, I knew he was thinking about coming…But…Wow. So he’s really coming, then?’
    The last Saturday in September, I think, as we ring off. I feel jumpy. Literally sick with anticipation. I am definitely going to seehim again. Hang on, why didn’t he call me himself to let me know he’d booked his ticket? I feel hurt. It occurs to me then, for the first time, that maybe he’s also feeling weird about seeing me again.
    I consider calling him. But no. I still feel uncomfortable at the thought of having a conversation. I decide to text instead.
    FLIGHT BOOKED THEN? MOLLY TOLD ME
    YES. SHE KNOW WE SPEAK?
    YES. SORRY. LET SLIP
    HA HA. DON’T WORRY
    I pause for a moment and then type out:
    WHAT’S GREEN AND TURNS RED AT FLICK OF A SWITCH?
    ???
    A FROG IN A BLENDER
    TERRIBLE, LUCE, TERRIBLE
    Relief sweeps over me and I suddenly regret not calling him and hearing his voice.
    HOW’S HOUSE COMING ALONG?
    GOOD. ALMOST DONE
    YOU’LL BE TURNING INTO UR DAD NEXT. REAL PROPERTY DEVELOPER
    A few months ago I would have been utterly on edge mentioning his late parents, but we seem past all that now.
    THAT’S THE PLAN
    Halfway through September, Mum comes to London for a shopping trip. She meets me at the flat.
    ‘Hello, Diane,’ James greets her warmly. He’s not coming out with us for lunch. It’s good to have some time to catch up with Mum alone as I haven’t been back to Somerset since Easter and it’s rare for her to be able to get away from the tea shop.
    ‘So, have you been counting down the days?’ she asks me drily, as soon as the waiter brings our drinks. We’ve managed to get a seat on the pavement outside a chic restaurant on Marylebone High Street and it’s a lovely sunny Saturday with a welcome cool breeze. August