Marissa’s become even easier to spot in the crowded shopping centre with her ever-increasing baby bump. She sees me and heads toward me carrying a large cardboard cake box.
‘Hello, you,’ she says, giving me a quick hug. It makes me wince with pain. ‘What’s with you?’
‘Gin hangover,’ I say, shuddering. Luke and I spent last night trying to recreate the cocktail recipe from our distillery tour. We’d planned to use water instead of alcohol but we had been gifted so much gin that it seemed a shame to waste it. And it hadn’t tasted that bad on the tour when it was in a cocktail. I was about to call myself a gin convert, until I woke up in agony this morning thinking that someone was trying to smash through my head with a pneumonic drill.
‘Oh bless you. Hangover food it is then.’
‘Yes, let’s go to McDonald’s or Burger King,’ I say, wincing in the sunlight. Since when has it been so sunny in October?
‘We’re not eating fast food. I’m about to give birth to a tiny human, which means I’m going to have a lifetime of eating in places like that. Let’s go somewhere less child-friendly like the Boozy Goose. They do those amazing chicken wings.’
I like that bar and the lights aren’t too bright.
‘OK,’ I say, nodding.
We start walking towards the bar and I loop my arm through Marissa’s. You’d think I was the heavily pregnant one at the speed I’m insisting we walk.
‘I thought you were going to fake your gin photos?’
‘We were going to,’ I say, groaning at the memory, ‘but then we figured we might as well have one.’
‘Or ten, I’m guessing by the state of you.’
‘I sort of lost track…’
‘So, drinking with Luke on a Friday night, huh?’
I see her not-so-subtle eyebrow raising.
‘It was a nice night,’ I say, shrugging. ‘I wouldn’t say we’re becoming friends, but we’re definitely getting used to spending time with each other and it’s not totally awful.’
‘High praise indeed,’ says Marissa, pushing open the door. We climb up the stairs to where the bar is located. ‘So is it still just a showmance, or is it turning into something more? The way he looks at you in those pictures…’
We round the top of the stairs and I pull a face before I head over to the sofas in the corner.
‘There is nothing in the way he looks at me other than the pound signs in front of his eyes. I’m merely a way of him making money, nothing more.’
She raises a sceptical eyebrow and I choose to ignore it.
‘Although he did surprise me by contacting Heart2Heart. I thought he’d want to do a fun run or something, but he wants to do a proper fundraiser.’
‘Right, so he organised for you to do a fundraiser for a charity that’s really special to you and you really think he’s only in it for the money?’ asks Marissa, placing the white cardboard box she’s carrying on the table.
‘He said it was to raise our profile.’
‘Then why not pick a better-known charity?’
I sigh. Occasionally Luke can do nice things and it’s hard to reconcile those with the normal selfish things he does.
‘What’s in the box?’ I ask, changing the subject.
‘It’s a cake,’ she says far too loudly and perkily for my hungover state. ‘It’s for the gender reveal.’
‘You’ve decided to do one?’
‘Uh-huh,’ she says, clapping her hands together. ‘Tim finally agreed to it. We’re going to stream it via Instagram Live tomorrow. I haven’t dared tell my mum; she’s going to be well pissed off she won’t have the opportunity to announce our news to the world first like she usually does.’
I laugh. Marissa’s mum does like to be the centre of attention.
‘I can’t believe you’re going to keep that cake until tomorrow.’
‘There’s no point streaming it on a Saturday night.’
I open the box’s flap and peer inside.
‘Could I just scrape off a little bit of the icing and look?’
‘No,’ screams Marissa. ‘That’s cheating. You’ll find out tomorrow, just like my thousand other followers.’
‘I can’t believe you haven’t looked.’
‘People would know. I’m so crap at faking anything.’
‘Yeah, I get that,’ I say, thinking back to the awful Makayto unboxing.
‘I’m dying to know though,’ she says, rubbing her belly. ‘It seems so weird that all that’s standing in my way of knowing if it’s a boy or a girl is a centimetre of frosting.’
I push the cardboard box gently in her direction to tempt her.
‘No,’ she says. ‘It wouldn’t be right. Not without Tim.’
‘And the rest of your followers?’ I can’t even copy one of her sceptical eyebrow-raises. It’s too much effort today.
‘Let’s change the subject,’ she says. ‘How was dinner and a movie with your friend Aidan?’ she asks, sounding a little too like that waitress for my liking. I’ve told Marissa about the cinema trips with him, although I’ve made it clear that we’re just good friends. I definitely haven’t told her we almost kissed and that I’ve regretted the fact that we didn’t ever since.
‘I told you on the phone, dinner and a movie was good, thank you.’
‘So, when are you seeing him next?’
‘I’m not sure. We usually meet at the monthly cult cinema, but this month is The Exorcist and there’s no way I can go and see that in the cinema. I saw it once on a grainy VHS and it scared the shit out of me. So I won’t see him until November.’
‘I guess that isn’t a problem if he’s just a mate, is it?’
I look up from my menu and she’s staring at me with a knowing smile on her face.
‘You know, you could ring him,’ she says. ‘Arrange to see another film. There are other cinemas.’
‘I don’t have his number.’
‘What?’ She shakes her head at me. ‘Such a rookie mistake. Well then, send him a message on Facebook. And don’t tell me that you haven’t looked him up on there as I know you have.’
My cheeks flush a little. Of course I have. It’s the first thing I did when I got home after I’d found out his surname.
‘Do you know what you want to eat?’ I ask, slowly rising to my feet. I need food and I need it quickly.
‘I’ll have the big nachos and don’t think you’re escaping this conversation by going to the bar. It’ll be waiting for you when you get back.’
‘Great,’ I mutter.
Marissa’s true to her word as, no sooner have I returned to the sofa with the drinks, she launches straight back into it.
‘I don’t want to hear that you don’t like Aidan or that you’re just friends, because we’ve been friends for twenty-one years and that look in your eyes only means one thing. You have it bad for him.’
‘I wouldn’t say I have it bad exactly …’
‘Ah-ha,’ she says, a smile exploding on her face. ‘I knew it.’
‘You just said as much,’ I say, confused.
‘I thought it, but I didn’t know. And now you’ve confirmed it,’ she says, looking far too pleased with herself.
This is why I should have cancelled today. My guard has been well and truly lowered by my hangover.
‘So, what are you going to do about it?’ she asks.
‘I’m not going to do anything about it.’
‘Because of his girlfriend?’
I shift uncomfortably on the sofa. I haven’t updated Marissa yet on the Saskia conversation.
‘What? Has he dumped his girlfriend?’ She’s edging so far forward on the sofa that I’m worried that she’ll topple over any minute from the weight of the baby.
‘He never had a girlfriend,’ I say, realising I’m too weak to not divulge everything today. ‘She was his business partner.’
‘Bloody hell, so he’s single. And you’re single. And you have the horn, I can see it in your eyes.’
I tut at her.
‘It doesn’t change anything.’
‘It changes everything. You’ve got to ask him out.’
‘I can’t. I’m dating Luke.’
‘Fake dating,’ she says, rolling her eyes. ‘You’re not honestly letting that stop you. Look what Aidan did the day that Ben died. You should totally ask him out.’
‘But he’s not even interested. He sounds like he was hurt by an ex.’
‘Like you,’ she says, gesturing at me.
‘Exactly. And like me, he’s not ready to date yet.’
Marissa humphs. She looks over to a pile of leaflets in the corner before leaping up in a eureka moment.
‘This is what you should do,’ she says, walking back and handing a glossy booklet to me.
‘What is it?’ I say, taking it.
‘It’s for the theatre.’
‘I don’t get it.’ I flick through the pages and wonder what I’m missing.
‘You pick something that’s only on for a night or two, message him and tell him you’ve got no one to go with and voilà. It’s one friend helping out another friend and hopefully you’ll end up smooching at the end of the night.’
I think of our near kiss and I’m tempted.
‘That sounds ridiculous. And I bet there’s nothing on.’
I land on a page and prove myself wrong.
‘Huh, Salome by Oscar Wilde. Do you remember doing one of his plays at school?’
‘No,’ she says, wrinkling her nose up.
‘You do, we did The Importance of Being Earnest. We all dressed up in big Victorian dresses.’
She looks at me blankly.
‘Don’t remember. But to be fair all I can remember from drama class was Jimmy Marsden.’
I lose Marissa for a minute whilst she thinks about her teenage crush.
‘That’ll be perfect,’ she says eventually.
‘You have no idea what it is.’
‘It doesn’t really matter. You just need an excuse.’
She picks up my phone and hands it to me.
‘Do it now.’
I take it and slip it into my hoodie pocket.
‘Even if I was going to do it, I couldn’t do it when I was this hungover; my brain is barely functioning.’
‘Promise when you do it later you’ll tell me?’
‘I promise, if I do it and it’s a big if.’
‘You’ll do it,’ she says, wriggling her bum back into the sofa, seemingly content.
‘I can’t believe you’re going on a date with him, it’s so exciting. I’m so pleased, Izzy, that everything’s coming together for you. You’re getting a boyfriend, and also… I think I’ve found you your dream job!’
‘Steady on, he’s nowhere near my boyfriend. And hang on, I’m not looking to move jobs!’
‘You might be if it was your dream one. I have a client who’s looking for a digital marketing manager. It’s a really dynamic company and the salary’s pretty good and they’ve got good healthcare and benefits,’ she says.
‘Has this got anything to do with your commission and that expensive pram you want?’
‘Absolutely not,’ she says far too unconvincingly. ‘But I did think that it might be good for you. You always said that that’s why you started doing your Instagram – so that you could move into a digital marketing role.’
‘I know, but it’s quite a leap from being a copywriter and I’ve had time off. I think I really should build up my influencer brand a bit more so I could really impress people.’
‘I’m sure they wouldn’t mind,’ she says. I notice she’s not looking me in the eye.
‘Have you already spoken to them about me?’
‘I might have done, informally, and they seemed really positive.’
‘Marissa,’ I say, sighing.
‘I know, I’m sorry, it’s just it seemed like you’d be a perfect fit and I thought it would be really good for you.’
‘But my feed, I feel like I’m getting somewhere. If it keeps growing at the rate that it is, I might be making decent money soon.’
‘Yeah, but it’s a gamble, isn’t it?’ she says. I can tell she’s choosing her words carefully. ‘This could give you proper job security. You might be able to save enough to get a deposit for your own place.’
‘You’re starting to sound like Becca,’ I say, trying to laugh it off.
The barman plonks two steaming plates of food down in front of us and I greedily reach for my chicken wings and start nibbling straight away. I’m getting into this whole eating food whilst it’s hot.
‘Why don’t I send you over the job spec and you can see? I know you’re doing really well with your Instagram and I am of course insanely jealous as I’m never going to reach those heights, but I just think that this is such a good opportunity. I mean, wasn’t this what it was all supposed to be for?’
I put down my first chicken bone, gnawed clean.
‘It was at one point,’ I say, taking a deep breath. Marissa’s my best friend and I can usually talk to her about everything, but I’m embarrassed to talk to her about this. I want her to understand why it means so much to me, though. ‘I was talking to Ben about it when he came up to London to buy Becca’s engagement ring and he told me that I shouldn’t just set my sights on changing jobs but that I should try and make it as an influencer. It seemed like such a silly dream, but the closer I’ve come to achieving it, the more I want to, for him. He’d have been so proud.’
‘Ah, Izzy,’ she says, inching forward and grabbing my hand. ‘Why ever didn’t you tell me?’
I shrug my shoulders. ‘After Ben died I found Instagram such an escape from all the grief. I liked the fact that people didn’t know about me or my problems and they didn’t all treat me like I was broken or do the sympathetic head tilt. It almost made me think that it was him nudging me in the right direction.’ I take a sip of my drink. ‘I sound stupid.’
‘No, you don’t,’ says Marissa. ‘But you know he’d be pleased and proud of you whatever you did.’
‘I know, and if it doesn’t work out then I will definitely start looking at a more stable career. But right now, I’ve got to at least try. For him.’
Marissa’s silent for a minute before she takes a bite of her nachos.
‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me though,’ she says. ‘Does this mean that you have other secrets from me? Are you and Luke really a couple?’
‘Er, no, we’re definitely not. And I don’t have any other secrets from you. I was just a bit embarrassed talking about that with you. Damn the hangover, it’s like taking a freaking honesty pill.’
‘You know you can always talk to me about the Ben stuff, don’t you? I know that you and Becca talk about it a lot, but I am always here.’
‘I know you are,’ I say, nodding and blinking back a tear. ‘And thanks, I haven’t been talking to Becca as much as I used to about this stuff.’
I feel sad that I haven’t told Becca. When Ben died we used to talk about everything but since she’s started dating Gareth, things have changed between us. I miss how we used to be.
‘I’m glad you told me,’ she says, squeezing my hand that she’s still holding. ‘You can always talk to me. Even when you become a jet-setting mega influencer.’
‘I don’t think that’s going to happen,’ I say. ‘Perhaps you should send me over that job spec.’
‘No, follow your dream,’ she says. ‘But don’t just do it for Ben, Izzy, do it for you too.’
A tear runs down my cheek and I wipe it away and smile. I don’t know what I did to deserve such a lovely friend. I lean over the table to give her a hug and Marissa stands up slightly to meet me in the middle. We pull out of the hug and as she sits down her bump catches the corner of the cake box.
I look down in horror as the bottom of the box catapults up.
‘No!’ I shout, reaching out to grab it but I’m too late. The box tumbles to the ground and the cake splats all over the wooden floor.
We both stare in horror. There’s a mass of white icing poking out from the underside of the box, and what looks to be pink sponge cake.
‘Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. I’m having a little girl,’ she screams, leaping up and narrowly avoiding tipping over her nachos this time. ‘This bump is a bloody liability.’
‘It is. But you’re having a girl!’
I give her yet another hug and we do a lot of squealing.
‘I’m having a little girl, Izzy,’ says Marissa, finally sitting down, wiping away the tears.
‘I know,’ I say, beaming. I have no doubt that we’d have been doing the same dance had the sponge been blue but just knowing what it’s going to be is so magical.
‘I’m terrified of having a little girl. How will I keep her safe? What if people are mean to her? What if—’
‘She’ll be fine. She’s got you as her mum.’
That sets Marissa off crying again and I don’t know whether it’s the post-alcohol blues or the fact that this lunch has been bloody emotional, but I start bawling too.
The barman walks over with a dustpan and brush to clear up the cake, but he looks between the mess on the floor and our blubbing and thinks better of it. He leaves us the dustpan and a bin bag and creeps away.
We just about get the tears under control and I stand up to clear up the cake.
‘I still can’t believe it,’ Marissa says. ‘Just think, you’re going to have a goddaughter.’
I look at Marissa for confirmation that I haven’t misheard and she grins manically at me.
I whoop loudly, my hangover forgotten, and the happy tears start again and it’s a long time before they stop.