‘Freddie? Freddie! You’ve not seen my red Converse, have you?’ As normal, I’m late. This is because I had another ‘urgent’ call from Coral. Her calls are always urgent, and I have been known to put my foot down when they’re really not, but this was something that I could handle.
She’s just received a new handbag from an on-trend designer who is destined for BIG things. This is a scoop, and her photo has to be up before anybody else’s.
It just has to.
The hashtag will go viral, and she’ll be back to queening it over Daniel and his dog.
I’ll also be queening it. I’ve been thinking about what Freddie said when we were in Brighton, and realised he was right. I might not yet be ready to cut the shackles, but I am ready to start chipping away at them. So, I’d folded my arms the other day and faced up to her. I wanted my tag on the photos.
I’ve been building a portfolio up while I’ve been working with her, but have no followers of my own, and after the New York fiasco (when she had to bin a whole load of Crystal’s snaps, ha) I felt it was now or never.
I might not be ready to break free from her yet, but I am going to have a plan. I’m going to start digging the tunnel, metaphorically of course. Along with chipping at the chain.
As Freddie said, she actually needs me more than I need her right now, and if I’m going to put up with the shit, then I might as well put some of it on my roses. I think he got a bit confused, but he means well. So, anyhow, we agreed that just as Rach’s wedding is all about her, and nothing to do with my disaster, my photographic career is all about me and nothing to do with Andy thinking of it as a hobby.
Freddie has told me that no way should I waste any opportunity to make my dream come true. That I need to have a game plan (he likes a game plan – after all, he does write computer games and he knows exactly how they’re supposed to turn out) and be the kick-ass version of myself that I used to be.
He’s right. Andy dissing my work, then dissing me, did kind of leave me wondering if it was all a pipe dream, but Freddie believes in me. He also pointed out that all my friends do, too, that it’s not just Rach, but also Maddie and Beth, and (begrudgingly) Sally who like my pics. And if Coral says yes to my demands then that proves something, too.
She said, yes.
Woohoo!
So, I got my tag. Tiny but hey, the grand masters only had a mini signature in the bottom of their masterpieces, didn’t they?
There is no answer from Freddie, so I start to grab T-shirts and jeans. Then it happens. My T-shirt moves. Without my assistance.
Oh. My. God. We’ve either got a poltergeist or a rat.
More likely a rat. In our beautiful bijoux apartment.
It moves again. Sugar.
The important thing is not to panic. Or scream. Stay calm. Get a long stick and poke it out.
I scream and jump on a stool.
‘What the hell, Jane, are you okay?’ Freddie is standing slightly breathless in the doorway. I give him a sideways glance but keep most of my attention on the drawer.
What if it gets out? Makes a run for it? It could end up anywhere.
‘Shut the drawer, shut the drawer!’
‘What?’
‘Quickly! And get a stick!’
‘A stick, why?’ He hasn’t moved.
‘To poke it with! Get the broom or something. There’s a rat or something, look, look,’ I point so wildly I nearly lose my balance. ‘There’s something, there’s something, something moved! It’s alive, in my drawer.’ I’m waving like a loony, my heart is pounding so hard I need to sit down.
Freddie edges towards the drawers. Sideways. Brave, but not full on.
‘No forget the stick, just shut the flaming drawer. Poking it might make it angry, it might leap at me. Rats can leap, can’t they?’
‘Guess so.’
‘But grab that blue top first, that one, with the stripes. There!’
He looks. Then grins. Then chuckles.
‘Don’t laugh, do something!’
Then, he belly-laughs, which makes me kind of want to laugh, except it’s not funny.
‘Freddie!’
‘You silly bugger!’ He fishes in the drawer then holds something up triumphantly. It’s not very rat-like, but it is furry. Ginger and furry. ‘It’s a kitten! I wondered where he’d gone.’
‘What the frig is a kitten doing in my undies?’
‘He’s a surprise.’
‘A surprise.’ I step down off the chair, and peer into the drawer, to double check there isn’t a rat in there as well. ‘I could have killed him!’ I shout, and the little thing flinches. ‘What if I’d battered him? Oh my God!’
‘He was in my room.’ Freddie looks downcast. ‘I thought the door was shut, I was sure …’ His voice tails off.
I gaze up at the very interesting ceiling. ‘Oh, er, I might have,’ cough, ‘opened it, popped in to borrow your mirror.’ Freddie has the only full-length mirror in the flat, and he doesn’t normally mind if I pop in and use it. Though, I do normally ask. Because of course that’s his private room, and we don’t wander in and out of each other’s bedrooms. That would be weird. ‘Sorry.’
‘I should have left him in the basket.’
‘No, no, it is your room. I shouldn’t …’
‘I thought you needed cheering up. If you don’t want him, I will. Or we can share.’
‘He is cute.’ I stroke his tiny head and he opens his mouth in a silent mewl.
‘What shall we call him?’ Freddie is grinning, he knows he’s got me.
‘You’re being serious here?’
‘I am. Totally.’
I think for a moment, remember what this little kitten was like when I was trying to take a photo of him and his gang. The way he danced across the floor, flung himself up the blinds.
‘I’ve got it!’ I grin triumphantly. ‘Louie!’
‘Louis?’ Freddie looks at me warily. ‘Like St Louis?’
‘No.’ I punch his arm lightly and lean in closer so I can touch the tiny paws. ‘Like Louie Spence.’
‘’Cos of his dance moves?’
‘You got it!’ Little Louie stares at me, all wide-eyed and innocent. His little tongue is sticking out, I think he forgot to put it in.
‘He’s so adorable, I could eat …’ I glance up at Freddie and suddenly realise we’re practically in a clinch.
He’s staring at me, not the kitten. And it’s just like that moment in Brighton when our gazes met, then we both decided the sand was more interesting.
Except this time there is no sand. And he doesn’t look away. Nor do I.
We both stare. And I can feel the heat bubbling up inside of me.
He kisses me.
For a moment I’m stunned. But his mouth is so warm, his lips so gentle against mine it makes me want more. I want to taste him. Touch him.
The kitten is nestled between us, but his other hand is on my arm, and the warmth sends a shiver down my spine.
He blinks. ‘He’s not the only adorable one.’ His voice is hoarse. Then he takes a tiny step back and holds Louie up between us. ‘Sorry. Sorry, really sorry. I shouldn’t have …’
‘We shouldn’t, we can’t …’ I take the kitten, I can’t not. I swallow hard. We shouldn’t. We really shouldn’t. Freddie is my friend.
‘No.’ His voice is low, flat. ‘Sorry.’
‘Freddie, I didn’t mean, it’s not that I don’t want …’ But Freddie is gone, striding off to his own room, leaving his name lingering in the air behind him. I know I said it quietly, so quietly maybe I didn’t want him to hear. I’m not sure.
The gentle click of his door closing echoes around the flat.
For a moment I stare at the kitten. Then I carefully put him down and carry on dressing, in a daze.
I touch my lips. The spot he kissed still feels the same, still normal. But inside my heart is hammering and everything feels out of kilter.
He kissed me. Properly. Like full on lips and a hint of tongue.
Oh, hell, we snogged! That wasn’t supposed to happen, ever.
Have we cocked everything up?
Or, and this is a massive ‘or’, because inside I’m feeling all the fuzz and tingles that I can’t remember ever feeling with Andy. Is it true that my fiancé never was the one? That I had a lucky escape. That this is what it feels like to find ‘the one’.
Except, he’s just run away, and he’s sorry he ever did it. And I’m sorry. And, shit, I told him we shouldn’t.
Is everything going to go wrong now?
I sit on the edge of the bed, and help Louie clamber up the cover until he reaches the summit. My knee.
His spiky tail is ramrod straight, and his eyes the bluest imaginable.
‘Miaow.’
‘Is this how Rach feels when she kisses Michael? Is this why,’ I pick him up, tickle his velvet-soft tummy, ‘people do the daftest things?’
Louie doesn’t answer. He just purrs. Incredibly loudly, so that it shudders through his whole body.
‘Oh, God, Louie, what am I doing? What if this changes everything? No, no I’m being stupid. It was one little kiss. It will change nothing.’ I need to keep my fingers crossed on that one. More like I need to keep my legs crossed, because if he kisses me again I might just make the biggest mistake of my entire life.
Who in their right mind would risk losing their best friend, their home, the person who believes in them, their sounding board? The man who is bloody perfect in every way. Except for not wanting to commit to a relationship because they’ve already met and lost their true love.
I smack my forehead.
Right now, I’d be tempted.
I’m confused.