Aged to Perfection

34. The Hot One Revisited

THIRTY-FOUR

The Hot One Revisited

Friday, 13 December, 5.30pm

Whoa. A text from The Hot One.

Hi Sophia, how are you doing? Long time, no hear xx

I stared at the screen for a minute, started typing, stopped, restarted and finally persuaded myself I shouldn’t reply. He texted again ten minutes later.

I understand if you don’t want to talk to me. I know I behaved badly. I miss you. Will you give us another chance? Let me explain what happened? I want to see you. xx

I don’t know how I feel about this at all. I’m so torn. He was awful to me, and sensible Sophia would tell him to take a hike. But at the same time, the thought of being near him again is so inviting. Doesn’t everybody deserve a second chance? He made a mistake and hadn’t realised until now. Would I be depriving myself of what could be an amazing relationship by holding a grudge? Or am I making excuses for him? And then there’s Ace. What if he is interested in me romantically? I don’t want to ruin my chances with him by seeing The Hot One. Then again, if Ace isn’t interested, what then? I don’t know what to do.

11.30pm

I reached for my mobile a hundred times, typed a few words, then deleted them. In the end, I didn’t reply. I’ll sleep on it. If I can sleep. He’s stirred up all sorts of emotions in me. Apparently, all that pushing him into oblivion didn’t work. He’s still hanging around in my heart. And in my vagina! I still want him, but I also resent him for what he did. I don’t know if I should forgive and forget, or even consider speaking to him. What I do know is that I’m writhing in my bed right now thinking about what I could do to his hot body next to me.

Saturday, 14 December, 8.30am

I’m seeing Ace today. I’m going to try and forget about The Hot One and concentrate on spotting any giveaway signs from Ace.

10.30pm

Went shopping for a Christmas tree with Ace. I picked a massive seven foot tree despite Ace protesting it wouldn’t fit in his car. Cue four feet of Christmas tree jutting out of the sunroof. On the way to my house, I told him about the text from The Hot One and was quite startled by his vehement reaction.

‘I can’t believe you’re giving the time of day to that idiot. How can you even think about him after what he did? Please tell me you’re not getting back with him,’ he said, letting out an exasperated breath and flexing his jaw. He was even more angry than he was with Jude on my birthday. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’s concerned just as a friend, or if the thought of me reconciling with The Hot One has provoked jealousy.

‘I haven’t replied to him and I’m not going to,’ I protested.

‘Good,’ he said with finality, and continued white knuckling the steering wheel.

There was a bit of an atmosphere in the car but when we got home, we dragged the tree up the stairs while Winnie kept running between our legs and making us laugh. She’s too cute for words and made us forget about earlier. Joy was cleaning in the kitchen when we walked in. She groaned her usual reluctant hello, but then noticed Ace behind me and transformed into a ray of sunshine.

‘I make coffee for you?’ she asked Ace as I picked up my chin from the floor. Those were five words she’d never uttered to me before. She brought in the coffees as we were unwrapping the tree, and stroked Winnie for a while.

‘Very good tree,’ she said. So much positivity in one day. I thought she fancied Ace but he’s a bit old for her. I spotted her smiling and looking at him through the ajar kitchen door.

‘You come here for Christmas?’ she asked Ace, as though it was her habit to engage in chitchat. I should have left my chin on the floor.

‘No, I was thinking of going away,’ he replied.

‘Maybe you come here for Christmas.’

What the hell was going on? I hoped she wasn’t angling for an invite so she could be with Ace. Then, I remembered it would be Ace’s first Christmas without Kelly. And without his dad.

‘I’m going to Mum and Dad. Why don’t you come? They’d love to see you. It’s been ages,’ I said to Ace, not making eye contact with Joy.

I was quite excited when he agreed. It’ll be lovely to spend Christmas with him and great to have him to talk to if things are still difficult with Mum and Dad. They’ll have to behave themselves if Ace is there. After he’d gone, Joy came over and started helping me with the tree decorations. I could feel she was building up to saying something. Maybe she did fancy Ace and wanted to ask about him. She doesn’t usually talk about her love life, so I assume she’s single.

‘Do you like Ace? He’s handsome, isn’t he?’ I fished.

‘Yeah, very handsome.’

Bother. Joy coming onto Ace was the last thing I needed.

‘You know he’s fifty-seven?’ I asked.

‘Yes, good age.’

I wanted to throttle the newfound joy out of her. I’ll make sure she’s not around next time he comes over. I couldn’t bear it if she worms her way into his heart. I need to find out how he feels about me, not lead him into the arms of an alluring young entrepreneur. As she walked towards the kitchen, I scowled at her back but had to catch myself when she came back and resumed decorating. I sat on the sofa watching her back. I couldn’t look her in the eye.

‘Look, Joy, there’s something I should tell you. It’s about Ace. The thing is, we’ve been friends forever, but now I think I might have feelings for him, and I have a suspicion that he feels the same way about me. You know I’ve been searching for someone for a long time and now … now I think he might be the one I want. So … what I’m saying is … I don’t want him distracted by anyone else. Do you understand?’

After what felt like hours, she turned round, and I held my breath.

‘I hang Christmas hookers?’ she asked, holding up a bauble. After taking out her earbuds.

11.45pm

Just got another text from The Hot One wanting to meet and begging me to let him explain. He’s even suggesting going away together for Christmas. Now I can’t sleep. He’s in my head again. I can’t help comparing him to Ace. If I’m honest, he was distant and non-committal whereas Ace is caring, reliable, honest and everything a woman could want. But then I’m remembering being with The Hot One and how great it was. I’m so confused.

Sunday, 15 December, 11.30pm

Bought all the presents for Mum and Dad so I can execute my cunning reunion plan. Ace is letting me order a surprise costume for him for Leila’s NYE party. One cute costume ordered. Then I video-called Ace to show him the decorated tree. I set up the phone on a stand, put on a tinsel halo, climbed a ladder behind it and peeped over the top of the tree, pretending to be the angel. Then I lost my balance and pushed the tree over. It took me two hours to put everything back, but it was worth it to hear Ace laughing so heartily at my performance.

P.S. I’ve been failing at pushing The Hot One into oblivion.

Monday, 16 December, 8.30pm

Whoa! Just had a hot under the collar sofa dream about Ace that turned into a nightmare. I dreamt I’d ordered him a tiny pair of Speedos for his NYE costume. He strutted around in them at the party while all the women stared with lustful eyes and whispered ‘budgie-smugglers, budgie-smugglers, budgie-smugglers.’ Then a cockatoo flew in and pecked at me in my hammock. What could that mean?

11.30pm

I was getting hot and bothered about the Ace dream earlier, so I started scrolling social media to distract myself. A message popped up saying, ‘Undercover Dust Bunny who you might know is on Instagram’, so I tapped but the account was anonymous. The bio said, ‘Queen of Clean, Duchess of Dust, Empress of Elbow Grease. Bringing you the polished truth in a world of mess. Spilling the dirt while I clean yours. Unmasking the world one mop at a time.’

It had twenty-seven thousand followers and looked like a hilarious account of the life of a cleaner dishing the dirt on their clients, so I followed the account. I was about to return to scrolling when I saw a picture of a Christmas tree that looked very much like mine. Closer inspection revealed that indeed it was mine. I scrolled down to find a picture of Leila’s deflated plastic man. It must be Joy! Under the Christmas tree, she had commented, ‘I think my favourite client is in love. Fingers crossed it work out this time. She deserve to be happy.’ A tear rolled down my cheek. I scrolled down and there were other posts gushing about me. All that bravado and judginess is all an act. And I’m her favourite client. Another tear fell onto my phone.

I texted her.

I love you too. Xx

What you talking about?

Just wanted to say you’re my favourite cleaner ever

Sophia drink too much wine?

No.

Joy don’t have time for this

OK you can go back to Instagram now

:-)

Tuesday, 17 December, 11.30pm

The dating challenge is a lost cause now and it seems I’m condemned to singledom forever. But there are still two weeks to go before the year ends. Could there be a last-minute reprieve? Could Ace forge ahead and sweep me off my feet? I admit, I rather like that idea, but I don’t know how to engineer it without risking being rejected. But then, what if I gave The Hot One another chance? He’s keen to get back together again, so maybe…

Wednesday, 18 December, 7.30am

Meeting Ace in a bathroom showroom today to look at options for his flat. Will he still want two basins? Or worse still, one huge lovey-dovey-let’s-share-everything basin? I’ll quiz him discreetly about Jacqueline. She could seriously scupper my romance prospects.

11.30pm

I didn’t need to ask about her. Ace turned up with her.

‘I hope it’s OK to crash your shopping trip,’ she said. ‘I was feeling a bit down and Ace invited me.’

‘Yes of course. Though I don’t know if showing you bathrooms is a good way of cheering you up, but I’ll do my best,’ I said. I couldn’t help thinking that if she and Ace are an item, I’d be deflated, disappointed and desolate, especially after allowing myself to acknowledge that I have feelings for him. But I don’t want to be jealous and bitchy. It’s not my style. I’m all for being sisterly and I’m not going to forget who I am. I decided to bury my feelings along with my hopes of romance with Ace and to carry on as if nothing had happened. Actually, nothing has happened. I’ve been dreaming of romance with Ace but have no idea how he feels about me. I let my imagination run wild. I’ll just have to suck it up.

‘I won’t go into it, but it’s my ex-husband. Anything to stop me thinking about him is good.’

‘If you need a girly chat, I’m here,’ I said. Ace smiled and winked at me, pleased.

I think I got her wrong and allowed my feelings for Ace to affect my judgement. She was good company and had some interesting design ideas. But when it came to choosing the basins, I made an excuse about making a call and left them to it. I’m sad but I’ll try and be happy for them.

More texts from THO today. He’s certainly persistent. I’ve had more texts from him in the last week than I did the whole time we were together. He may be my last-minute reprieve if Ace is with Jacqueline now, though it would feel like I’ve settled for second best. I haven’t come this far to accept the runner-up. I wish there was no Jacqueline to distract Ace, and no The Hot One to confuse me. I suppose there’s no harm in meeting him for a coffee.

Friday, 20 December, 11.30pm

I’m probably being stupid, but I’ve agreed to meet The Hot One for lunch on Sunday. I know I shouldn’t, but he’s been so persistent, and he keeps reminding me of the lovely times we had together, so I finally cracked today. It’s lunch. Nothing more. I want to hear what he has to say. It’s possible I didn’t realise how bad things were for him when we were together. And just thinking about his body gives me goosebumps.

Saturday, 21 December, 11.30pm

Leila was surprised about Ace and Jacqueline. She doesn’t think she’s his type either, and thought it was probably just Ace being Ace and helping someone in need. I don’t know and don’t want to ask. He must be wondering why I haven’t made any comment about the two of them though. He may not be ready to go public yet.

Then I told her about The Hot One and she completely blew up at me and said she couldn’t believe I was even considering seeing him again after the way he treated me. I was so tempted to remind her of how she stuck her head in the sand about Jude but decided not to go there. Am I being ridiculous to consider it? Should I not forgive him? Everyone makes mistakes. I shouldn’t punish him, and myself, for one mistake.

Sunday, 22 December, 2.30pm

Just back from lunch with The Hot One and I’m … happy. My bedroom was a disaster zone when I left to meet him. I built up a pile of abandoned outfit options in the corner of the room before settling on casual but sexy pale blue jeans, nude high heel boots, a pale pink jumper, and a winter white fur coat. My GHD was still hot from straightening my hair when I decided to put in giant rollers for a wavy look, which I then combed out as soon as the rollers were discarded. I had to look my best to let him see what he’d been missing, and I felt confident when I arrived at Le Petit Bistro. I stood at the entrance, took in the room with my best pout and smouldering eyes, then strutted towards him, tossing my tousled tresses. In my head I was striding in slow motion to Marvin Gaye’s ‘Let’s Get It On’.

He was so handsome in a blue cashmere sweater and expensively ruffled hair. We made a good couple. All those feelings of yearning came flooding back. I sat opposite him and thought the sexual chemistry was still there. Cue massive vagina throbs. He said he wanted to explain how he was feeling back in August, so I let him talk and listened.

‘I’d been working hard and making so many personal sacrifices for the partnership. That day when we were due to go to Valencia, they told me it wasn’t working out. They said they had concerns about my commitment to the firm. Had concerns? I couldn’t believe it after everything I’d done for them. I was in shock at first but then I was raging, and I had no bandwidth for any other emotional demands. That was why I ended us, but now things have settled down, I regret it. I want you back, Sophia.’

‘But you dumped me by text and…’ I started to say. The rowdy group of women at the next table looked at each other, stopped talking and started eavesdropping.

I wanted to tell him he’d been aloof from the beginning and how much he’d hurt me by finishing it the way he did, but he interrupted me and carried on talking about what a terrible time he’d been through. He went on to tell me he’d changed his strategy at work, and he was working smarter to get himself noticed and finally it was starting to work, and the CEO was pleased with him.

‘So, that’s it. That’s what happened. But I hope you understand the reasons. Can we forget about it and pick up where we left off?’ He smiled and winked at me.

I thought, is that it? You’ve made your excuses and you think it can all be OK again? No asking me about what I’d endured or how I felt at the time? Not even an actual apology? The man was a complete narcissist. How could I not have seen that before? Then a thought.

‘Have you seen anyone else since we broke up?’ I asked.

‘Yes, but it didn’t work out,’ he said, furrowing his brows.

‘She dumped you, didn’t she?’

‘She didn’t mean anything. It’s not relevant to us.’ He looked sheepish and couldn’t keep eye contact.

‘Was it by text?’

He put his hand through his hair and fidgeted, staring into the distance. One of the women at the next table guffawed.

‘It was, wasn’t it? Oh my God. I think it is relevant. I think your ego was dented and you thought, who can I go to who wants me and can make me feel better about myself? I know, I’ll try Sophia.’

He shook his head from side to side again, sighed and played with the stem of his wine glass.

I smiled to myself.

‘I’m really glad I came today. When I walked in earlier, I thought you looked hot, and I still wanted you.’

He looked up at me and leaned forward.

‘I needed to see you and hear your explanation and decide if I should give us a second chance. To understand how you feel about me. And thank you for being honest about your other relationship. That was helpful. But now that I know the reasons why you broke up with me, and why you now want to get back together again, I realise that … how can I put this? You’re self-obsessed, cowardly and a complete knob.’ There was a hush at the next table.

I stood up, put on my coat, and picked up my bag, then took a last sip of my red wine.

‘Have a nice life,’ I said, and poured the wine over his head. He pushed his chair back to duck the stream of red liquid, but it was too late. As he dabbed his hair with a napkin in disbelief, I turned for the door and breezed out to the sound of clapping and whooping from the women at the next table.

I’m smiling to myself as I write. I feel free and light, as though a weight has been taken off my chest. He hurt me and I resented him for it, but it took me a long time to stop having feelings for him. Now, I don’t care anymore that he dumped me, and I don’t keep wondering what’s wrong with me. It’s not me. It’s him. I know now that it was the exterior I’d fallen in love with, not the man. I loved his looks and his body and mistook that for loving the whole man, when deep down I must have known he didn’t want me.

I can see now that he was never interested in a real relationship. I’m so relieved that I no longer have any feelings for him and can see him for the thoughtless and selfish man that he is. The Hot One, you have been sent to oblivion forever. The clouds have lifted, and the sun is shining. The future is bright.

Monday, 23 December, 11.30pm

Ace texted earlier.

Hey, looking forward to Xmas day. Should I bring anything?

No just yourself.

OK. Will bring booze!

Unless you want to bring Jacqueline?

No, why would I bring her? Can’t wait for Christmas Day. x

Phew. What if he’d said yes and brought her? Did I imagine they were in a relationship? Thinking back, I didn’t see any tell-tale signs of togetherness. No intimate glances or touching. Perhaps it was all in my jealous head. Christmas Day is looking more promising. And what should I read into ‘Can’t wait for Christmas Day’? Does it mean what I think it means? Could I allow myself to hope for that? After seeing The Hot One, I know now it’s Ace I really want.

Tuesday – Christmas Eve, 9.30am

Going to Mum and Dad’s today. Last time I visited, the atmosphere in the senior Stone household was so cold, Frosty the Snowman could survive indoors over Christmas. I’m going to knock some sense into them and stop the madness.

11.30pm

Move over Esther Perel. Sophia Stone has a new career in marriage counselling. When I arrived, Mum was busy in the kitchen avoiding Dad, and he was in his lounger doing his sudoku. As usual. Was he always this obsessive or is it old age? I knew I was going to try and reconcile Mum and Dad, but didn’t know it would take all day.

Round One – I ate half of my lunch in the kitchen with Mum and half in the living room with Dad because they refused to sit together. I tried talking sense into each of them, but they wouldn’t budge. I despaired and had two mince pies.

Round Two – After lunch, Mum moved to the dining table to read her book. Progress. At least they were in the same room. In the afternoon, I made tea and opened the Christmas cake I’d brought. I was ready with my speech.

‘Mum, Dad, I need to talk to you,’ I said, turning from one to the other at opposite ends of the room. ‘I’ve had a tough few months and I’m looking forward to spending Christmas with you. And this’—I pointed at their full-of-misery faces—‘won’t do.’ They fidgeted and said nothing. ‘Come on, you’re being childish. Why don’t you give each other a hug and say sorry?’ Now I know what having squabbling kids must be like.

Dad stared at his shoes and Mum went back to the kitchen. I despaired and ate all the triangles in the Quality Street tin.

Round Three – Conversation over dinner was stilted and channelled through me, but at least they sat at the same table. As soon as we finished, I went in for the kill.

‘I know you love each other. Before all this nonsense with the modelling and dancing started, you used to hold hands over the radiator while you watched TV in your armchairs. Don’t tell me that’s not love after sixty-odd years.’ They each studied their empty plates intently like naughty children being chastised. My heart brimmed over.

‘You’re being stubborn and making each other miserable. I know you don’t really want to carry on like this, and I’ve had enough of the tension.’

‘Tell your mother to apologise and stop her modelling shenanigans and I’ll consider it,’ Dad said.

‘Tell your father to apologise and stop dancing with that Consuela woman and I’ll consider it,’ Mum said.

When Dad didn’t say anything, Mum slammed the door and went upstairs, and Dad busied himself on the iPad. I despaired and had a large piece of Christmas cake.

After about an hour, Dad went upstairs. I could hear their voices, so I listened at the bedroom door. He said he was feeling lonely and left out when she did her modelling and that’s why he went dancing with Consuela, who is happily married and only dances with Dad because her husband is in a wheelchair. Dad just made more of it to make Mum jealous. Mum thought he was being disapproving of her modelling, then she became jealous of Consuela, and it all got out of hand.

Round Four – They came down an hour later looking more relaxed with each other. I took out their presents from my bag. ‘Here, I want you to open your Christmas gifts.’ They both sat on the sofa, and I could see they were excited, and started unwrapping.

‘Dad, I got you a new mobile with a good camera. I know you love sudoku and it’s good brain training, but you could do with a new hobby.’ He grinned and started taking out the pieces.

‘Mum, you get a year’s subscription for two to a new ballroom dance class, so you can BOTH enjoy dancing again. Without Spanish distractions. And a lovely Latin dance dress. You can model it and Dad can photograph you in it. Treat it like a photoshoot for both of you.’

Mum was delighted with her dress. She disappeared upstairs while I helped Dad with the mobile. When she reappeared and swished the fringing on her dress, he beamed and took a few photos. She went over to him.

‘You look magnificent,’ he said as he showed her the images.

‘And you have a talent for photography. You could photograph me in different outfits, and I could put them on … what’s that internet site for photos, Lovely?’

‘Instagram?’

‘Yes, that’s it. Me and your father could be the new Instagram sensations,’ she declared. Where did she learn to say that?

‘Does that mean you won’t be doing any more modelling for that photographer?’ Dad said.

‘It was getting too tiring anyway, going up to London and hanging around a studio all day.’ She kissed the top of Dad’s head. He beamed. But there was still something left unsaid. The elephant in the room.

‘Does that mean you won’t be dancing with Consuela anymore?’ I asked.

‘Not when I have a beautiful wife to photograph and dance with.’ He hugged her. So romantic and cheesy. I filled up. I can only dream that I’ll be loved up like them in my eighties. Maybe next year things will change for me.

And so it was that peace was restored in the senior Stone household (that sounds like a fairy tale’s ending). They needed a nudge to stop being stubborn. I’m not despairing anymore but I think I deserve a few more yummies from the Quality Street box before going to sleep. I wonder if there are any blue coconut ones left.

Wednesday – Christmas Day, 7.30am

Dad still carries on the tradition of filling our Christmas stockings with gifts if me or Sara is staying on Christmas Eve. I woke up to more chocolate, beautifully wrapped soaps, and a pearl hair clip in mine. I wonder if he dressed as Santa like he usually does. I was so exhausted after the marriage counselling day I slept like a log and didn’t hear him come into my room. It’s great to see Mum and Dad being back to their usual happy selves.

As for me, I’m VERY excited about seeing Ace later, but trying to hold it together, hoping there is nothing between him and Jacqueline. I love Ace, have done forever, but now I think I have a different kind of love for him. I KNOW I have a different kind of love for him. The kind of love where I could contemplate giving myself fully, revealing my soft core, and not holding back. Now that I don’t have The Hot One squatting in my brain, I can see more clearly. I cannot believe I even considered getting back with The Hot One when there was a chance I could be with Ace instead. Ace would win hands down, on every front. There is no comparison. Ace is the whole package, not just a handsome face, or a fit body. Not just beautiful outer packaging (although that’s pretty hot) but beautiful inside too. In fact, he’s everything I said I wanted in my ideal man in the dating apps:

Articulate – He can even rap!

Adventurous – We had so much fun in Cuba.

Glass half-full – Always. He sees the best in people and in every situation.

Smells nice – Mmm, yes.

Energetic and fit – Oh yeah.

Intelligent – He has a first-class degree and speaks three languages.

Youthful – Well, he hasn’t retired to buy a pipe and slippers. He’s joined a Latin band!

Sexy – Have you seen him in a Speedo?

Confident – He sure strutted his stuff in that Speedo.

Funny – Have you seen his dancing?

Attractive – And then some.

Open-minded – Well, he might not be up for a threesome but neither am I.

Bonus superpower – Have you seen him in a Speedo?

I can also add kind, considerate, generous, honest, protective, loyal, talented, trustworthy, compassionate, and more.

If we were to get together, wouldn’t it be perfect? We’re already best friends, and I’ve loved spending more time with him lately. I wish I knew how he feels. I don’t want to make a complete fool of myself, but then why break the habit of a lifetime?! I’d be devastated if he rejects me. In Valencia, I had the excuse of being vulnerable and drunk when I kissed him, but what would he say if I did it again?

I hope Santa will give me the best present ever this year. I’d better get up and help Mum and her sous chef. She seems to be cooking for an army and not just for the four of us, but when I mentioned it yesterday, she told me to stop fussing.

Thursday – Boxing Day, 9.00am

It was lovely to have Mum and Dad being a team again and cooking Christmas lunch together. I tried to help but they said I should relax as I’d already done enough to make it a happy Christmas, so I spent quite a long time getting ready for our guest. I put on my flowy red chiffon dress with red tights and red velvet ankle boots. I was smiling and standing proud in the mirror but inside I had a million butterflies fluttering. I was so looking forward to seeing Ace but apprehensive about his feelings for me.

Floaty and rosy-cheeked, I welcomed Ace and Winnie, and was serving drinks when the doorbell went. Who could that be? My wondering was followed by shock and confusion when I opened the door to find Sara, Laurence, Jack and Charlotte standing before me. I nearly dropped my prosecco. They were all smiles and bearing presents. I was so chuffed to see the kids. Sara was acting like nothing had happened. We hadn’t seen each other since she walked off after admitting to sleeping with The Traitor. Yes, she was nice the last time we spoke on the phone, but I wasn’t expecting this Sara. The old lovely, sisterly Sara.

I went to the kitchen to get glasses and asked Mum if she knew Sara was coming. Then I remembered her enigmatic smile when I’d questioned the quantity of food.

‘If I’d told you, it wouldn’t have been a surprise,’ Mum said. She can be so annoying.

I didn’t want the day spoilt with another row, so I chatted to Ace on the sofa, but Sara kept looking in my direction. My heart sank like a lift with its cables cut when she asked to have a word in private. I was dreading another confrontation.

‘Look, Sophe, I have something to say.’ She took in a big breath. We were standing in the middle of her old bedroom, surrounded by framed photos of our childhood.

‘Don’t start anything please. Not today,’ I said.

‘Just let me say what I have to say. Please.’

I deflated onto the single bed and waited for whatever was coming.

‘I know I’ve been awful to you this last year. In fact, I’ve been horrible to everyone including Laurence, the kids, and Mum and Dad.’

‘No argument from me on that.’

‘After our fight when you had your accident, I had a meltdown at work and my boss suggested counselling. She thought I had anger management issues, apparently flying off the handle with my colleagues over the smallest things and making the practice atmosphere toxic.’

‘Are you saying that was my fault?’ Was she going to pin everything that was wrong in her life on me?

‘No. Just let me finish.’

She said the counsellor made her understand that it was all about her feelings of guilt. She felt guilty about what she did to me and to Laurence. She was angry with herself but took it out on the people she loves. All that time she was carrying this massive, awful secret and it was too much.

‘I realised that honesty was the only way out of the mess. I had to be honest with myself, with Laurence and with you. So I told Laurence about that night,’ she said.

‘Oh my God,’ I gasped. ‘How did he take it?’

‘He was devastated at first but honestly, he’s been brilliant.’

‘I suppose he couldn’t take the moral high ground when he’d been having an affair.’

‘That’s another thing … erm … he didn’t have an affair. I told you that because I didn’t want to tell you the real reason.’ Another deep breath. ‘I had a miscarriage and…’

‘I know. Mum told me.’

‘So much for Mum keeping a secret,’ she said.

‘Don’t be angry with her. She had to tell me. You were being so awful to me, she wanted to explain why. She didn’t know there was another reason too.’

‘Do you hate me?’

‘Yes. No. I don’t hate you, but there have been times when I was so furious I wanted to come over and scream in your face. You slept with my boyfriend, right under my nose. Do you know what that did to me? My sister, who I adored and trusted with my life up to that moment, with the man I loved, while I watched TV downstairs. How could you hurt me like that when you knew what that kind of betrayal would do to me? You tore my heart apart. I was broken for a long time.’

‘I know. There’s no excuse and I’m so ashamed. I think I went bonkers for a while. I couldn’t cope and I lashed out. It was unforgiveable. I’m truly sorry.’

‘And I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t understand about the pregnancy. You should know me better than that. You should have known I don’t have it in me to resent you for what happened,’ I said.

‘I know. In the confusion and misery of what happened, I forgot who I was. I felt like I’d killed my baby deliberately. I made a mistake and I paid for it, as did Laurence. He was devastated. Please believe me, I didn’t do it on purpose, honestly.’

‘I believe you, and I’m so sorry about the baby. It must have been a horrible experience. To me, it felt like somehow you blamed me. That it was my fault you had a miscarriage, and it was my fault you slept with The Traitor.’

‘You’re right. I think in my distressed state, I needed someone to blame, and you were an easy target, even if it made no sense to hold you responsible. You didn’t deserve any of it.’

She said that after the miscarriage, things got awful with Laurence for a while, and that night when she came to my house, she drunk herself silly to kill the pain of the misery.

‘I’ve stopped drinking now. I’ve been a cow to everyone. I want to make amends and start by acknowledging what I did and apologising. To you, in particular.’

‘You should have told me. About all of it…’ I hesitated. I’d had enough of being mad at her and wanted it to be over, and to go back to being loving sisters. ‘I can’t talk though. I bottled it all up too. We’re a right pair of uptight bitches,’ I said, smiling. ‘How are things with Laurence now?’

‘We’ve had a difficult time, but I think we’re going to be OK. We have a new regime at home. I let Laurence and the kids help around the house, so I’m not a martyr anymore.’

I snorted.

‘Yes, you can laugh. I do have some self-awareness.’ She paused. ‘I know I don’t deserve it, but will you forgive me?’

Tears trickled down both our faces, and all I could think was how great it would be to have my sister back. Yes, she’d done a terrible thing to me, but she was in pain and vulnerable at the time and made a mistake. She deserves a second chance. I reached out to her, and we hugged for a long time.

As we pulled away, she said, ‘What about you-know-who? Ever wonder what might have happened if you were still together? I mean if I hadn’t messed things up for you.’

‘Things were probably messed up already. Apparently, he moved on from me pretty quickly and shacked up with somebody else. If I’m honest, I don’t think he loved me, so you probably did me a favour.’

She sighed and wiped her nose. ‘Let’s go and enjoy the party, but you need to fix your makeup first. Mum wouldn’t approve of the Marilyn Manson look.’ We both laughed at my reflection in the dressing table mirror.

‘Hey, you missed out on the Christmas stocking fillers last night,’ I said, as I tried to salvage my carefully applied makeup.

‘Is Dad still doing that?’ She paused. ‘What’s going on with you and Ace? You look different around each other. Cosy. If I didn’t know different, I’d say you were together.’ I told her about my growing feelings for Ace, and about him and Jacqueline.

‘He’s a good man. He’d be perfect for you, and he’d look after you. As for Jacqueline, it sounds like they’re just friends.’

I can’t believe I’ve been so blind to his charm all these years. I suppose we haven’t been single at the same time since our early twenties, but now we’re both free. Is it possible he loves and wants me too? I wasn’t warming to the idea. No, I was burning up with it.

The rest of the day was a picture-perfect Christmas. The tree was twinkling, Winnie jumped around being cute and golden, we all ate and drank too much, we laughed a lot, and the kids played with their new gadgets. And of course, me and Ace cosied up like the best friends that we are, but he didn’t know that all I wanted for Christmas was to take him upstairs and jump him. I wonder if my constant state of flushed breathlessness gave it away.

AND IN OTHER ROMANCE-RELATED GOOD NEWS: JACQUELINE HAS GONE BACK TO HER HUSBAND. SHE NEVER WANTED THAT SECOND BASIN.

The spark of love for Ace is starting to turn into a flame. But how to ignite it fully? My increasing longing for Ace is bittersweet. There’s a bit of me that still doesn’t believe he wants me, and I don’t want to make a move and lose him altogether.

11.30pm

It’s been a quiet but lovely day today, just me and Mum and Dad eating chocolates and watching crap TV. I wonder how many more Christmases I’ll have with them. Still feeling warm from the glow of yesterday. But only five days left of the year. When will my last-minute reprieve come?

Friday, 27 December, 11.30pm

Decided to stay another day with Mum and Dad. He hasn’t stopped taking photos of Mum, and I had to set up an Insta account for him. He’s already posted twenty pics. I’ve created a monster.

Saturday, 28 December, 11.30pm

Boozy brunch with Grace and Leila today. Grace has been busy setting up her doggie dating business. Woof, woof. I’m so pleased for her. She’s calling it Canine Cupids.

I need to think about my priorities for next year. Back in January, I threw myself into dating with the determination and enthusiasm of Sheriff Woody, but gradually turned into Mrs Potatohead with missing bits. I went from being as enthusiastic as Bugs Bunny with a bag of carrots and ended like Winnie the Pooh without honey. I searched for Mr Darcy and found Mr Wickham.

The Opera Buff introduced me to operatic sex, The Fetishist taught me to love my feet, and Mr Delicious put me off sushi for life. And The Hot One … he made me miserable for a while but taught me to never ignore the red flags again.

Along the way, I had my hopes raised and dashed, there were some fun moments, and my heart got broken. I was open-minded to all sorts of people. I welcomed new experiences and any opportunities to meet men. I realised I wanted love after all and wanted the dating project to work. But none of it came to anything. Did I waste a whole year searching and being preoccupied with finding the next date? After all that effort, could I end up with the person who’s been in front of me the whole time? I probably needed to meet all those men to understand exactly what I want. It took the many dates to open my eyes and my heart and to prepare me for real love. I know now Ace is the one I want. The only one.

I told Grace and Leila about how I’ve been feeling about him. They were pleased and excited for me but not surprised. They both knew I’d started to have feelings for Ace but was being ridiculous and refusing to acknowledge it.

Tuesday – New Year’s Eve, 6.30pm

Sooo excited about Leila’s party tonight. After last year’s foil frock fiasco, I’m going for comedy value tonight and wearing an octopus outfit. The best part, though, is that I can control the arms with a thread pull system. I’m going to enjoy dancing with that. Ace doesn’t know he’s going to be a crab. We can make a delicious seafood salad together. Is tonight going to be the night of my reprieve?