Chapter Twenty-Five
Keisha and Cerys leave their wedding reception via a luminous tunnel as guests line up either side of them holding up lit sparklers, after which Dad claps his hands together and announces his pleasure that the evening’s festivities have come to an end and he can go home.
Mum insists on a round of goodbyes to family members, during which Dad’s posture dips with every hug Mum gives and his face grows another frown line every time it’s declared that ‘we must catch up again soon!’ and Mum agrees that would be wonderful, but eventually Dad nudges Mum towards the car and they leave with a screech of tyres.
‘Why are you so certain Kit is The One?’
Jonah and I have said our own goodbyes and are making our way to the car when Jonah asks the question. We’d been discussing my predicament before the fireworks display and the sparkler bon voyage, and he picks the conversation back up now.
‘You haven’t even kissed him, not properly. A peck on the cheek doesn’t count. So you don’t know if there’s any real chemistry. He could be a really, really bad kisser. Like a suction cup with a tongue.’
My eyebrows raise as I climb into the car. ‘You sound like you’re speaking from experience there.’
Jonah cringes. ‘Terry Sharky. We were fourteen and it was my first kiss with a boy. He called me a poof afterwards and threatened to “stamp on my head” if I told anyone about it.’ He makes air quotes with his fingers as he repeats the boy’s threat before lowering himself into the passenger seat.
‘I never did tell anybody – until now.’ He checks over his shoulder with a smirk, as though Terry Sharky is going to be lying in wait on the backseat of my Citroen.
‘I hope I’m not going to get my head stamped on now.
’ He pulls the door closed and shakes his head as he drags his seatbelt on.
‘It really was a bad kiss. So bad, I convinced myself I wasn’t into boys after all and didn’t kiss another one until I was nineteen.
’ He smiles at this and I know he’s conjuring a much better memory than that of the closeted Terry Sharky.
I set off, turning left out of the car park. ‘I’m sure Kit isn’t a bad kisser. You can tell, can’t you?’
Jonah snorts. ‘Can you? I wish someone had told me how before I let Terry Sharky loose on my face. But seriously, you haven’t kissed this guy or even been on an actual date with him. You don’t have his number or any way to contact him, so how could he possibly be The One?’
‘I know all that is true, but we have a connection.’
‘You really don’t. You don’t even have his number to connect to.’
I shove Jonah’s thigh. ‘You know what I mean. Like, we have so much in common. I don’t think I had anything in common with Alfie, other than a shared lease on a flat.
We didn’t like the same food, we didn’t watch the same films or TV, and Alfie didn’t have a creative bone in his body.
If it wasn’t football or playable on his Xbox, he wasn’t interested. ’
‘Is Kit into art then?’
I nod as I stop at a red light. ‘He did GCSE art and wanted to do it at college, but his dad convinced him to do a plumbing apprenticeship instead.’
‘He’s a plumber?’ Jonah sits up straighter, but I burst his bubble immediately.
‘No, Jonah. Like you said, I haven’t even had a first date with the man. I am not asking him to look at our leaking tap if I ever find him.’
‘But the landlord said he “can’t get anyone out” for three weeks.’ Jonah uses the air quotes again as he slumps back in his seat.
‘But I can’t ask Kit round to fix it as soon as I find him.’
‘If you find him.’
‘I will find him.’ Because, despite the failed attempts to track him down, I somehow know that this isn’t the end for us. I felt a connection that night and I feel this now, in my bones. ‘Even if we have to go back to the piano bar every single week.’
Jonah splutters. ‘We? I’m not wasting my weekends looking for your hook-up.’
‘Kit is not a hook-up. He is so much more than that.’ The light changes, but the car stalls as I try to move forward.
I glare at Jonah, as though it’s his fault for putting me off with all this leaking tap business while I’m driving.
Behind us, a car horn blares and I resist the urge to twist around and stick two fingers up at the driver (I am my road-raging father’s daughter, after all) and instead I take a deep, calming breath and get going.
I don’t speak as I concentrate on the road ahead, and Jonah wisely keeps it zipped as I navigate the roundabout and exit onto the M6.
‘Er, Christina?’ Jonah finally breaks the silence that has descended on the car and points at the dashboard. ‘How long has that been on?’ I glance down to where he’s indicating and see one of the warning lights is illuminated.
‘What is it?’ My eyes flick from the dashboard to the road and back again. The symbol looks a bit like a Lego man. ‘Is that the battery?’
Jonah leans forward as I keep my full attention on the road. ‘I think so.’
Panic makes my breaths shallow. I’ve had this car since I passed my test five years ago and nothing has ever gone wrong with it. It’s always passed its MOT and the only repairs it’s had have been for a flat tyre.
‘What does it mean?’
Jonah shrugs. ‘Something to do with the battery, I guess.’ He pulls his chin back when I shoot him a ‘you think?’ look.
‘Hey, I’m not a mechanic. I have no idea what any of those flashy lights mean.
’ He wafts a hand at the dashboard. ‘I know how to fill up and that’s about it.
Don’t you have a car mechanic potential boyfriend up your sleeve as well as a plumber? ’
‘Jonah.’ I hate how whiny and weak my voice is right now but he’s not taking this seriously and I may well start to hyperventilate, which won’t help matters.
‘It’ll be fine. We’ll get home and have it checked out in the morning.’ Jonah sounds so confident that I feel my shoulders start to relax and my breathing loses its anxious little puffs.
But it isn’t fine. Twenty miles later, the car loses power and starts to slow, and I’m forced to pull over onto the hard shoulder before we end up crushed against the front of the HGV behind us.
The hazard lights are flashing on the car and Jonah and I have climbed over the barrier to wait for the breakdown service to arrive, chatting to pass the time. Jonah delves into the bag of abandoned Starmix and pulls out a green teddy bear.
‘Freddie and I didn’t have anything in common, really. I like cosy nights in and he likes going to bars and clubs.’ He bites the head off the teddy bear. ‘He’d never dance though. Or look as though he was having fun. He just liked to stand there, looking uber-cool.’
‘Freddie isn’t uber-cool.’ I reach into the bag of Haribo even though there are only the rubbish sweets left. ‘He’s an uber-tool, more like.’ I snigger and poke Jonah with my elbow. ‘And you’re not, so you’re definitely opposites.’
‘Opposites can attract though, can’t they?’
I shrug and pull out a yellow teddy bear. The worst of the worst sweets in the bag. ‘Not in my experience. Alfie and I had nothing in common and in the end he didn’t even like me, never mind love me.’
‘But what about your mum and dad? They’re complete opposites and they work. Your mum’s sweet and lovely and kind and your dad is… well, he’s your dad.’
‘Dad isn’t as hard as he presents to the world, you know.’ I contemplate eating the jaundiced bear that I’m still holding onto but it’s just not worth it and I hand it over to Jonah, who shoves it in his mouth.
‘You mean the breakfast in bed thing?’
‘It’s not just that.’ I reach into the bag and pull out a red bear. Not great, but better. ‘I saw him cry once, when I was about eight.’
‘Your dad has tear ducts?’
‘I know, right? But I saw them in action, by accident. I woke up one night and heard Mum and Dad in the bathroom. They were trying to be quiet but I was a nosy little bugger and I opened my bedroom door a crack so I could try to listen to what was going on.’
‘They weren’t…?’ Jonah pulls a face and I whack him on the arm.
‘Eww, no, you deviant. Do you think I’d actively listen to that?’
Jonah shrugs and rubs his arm. ‘What was going on then?’
‘They…’ I hesitate, because I’ve never told anyone this, not even Alfie. ‘They wanted more children, but it never worked out. Mum got pregnant a few times but…’
‘Oh.’ All the teasing energy seeps from Jonah. ‘I see.’
‘Dad was always good at putting a brave face on, to be strong for Mum. He’d look after her, like she was made of porcelain, you know?
All gentle and loving. And he’d cheer her up by being daft and singing to her.
’ Could it be magic? ‘But this one time, when I was peeking out of my bedroom door, I saw it. The grief he was feeling too. He didn’t know I was watching as he slipped out of the bathroom, you see.
’ I shrug. ‘So they aren’t so different, Mum and Dad.
They just have different ways of showing it.
’ Jonah takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.
‘You’re cold.’ He holds my hand up and I see that my fingernails have taken on a blue tinge. ‘Here. Take this.’ He shrugs off his blazer and drapes it over my shoulders.
‘Thanks. This dress is pretty but impractical.’ I push my arms through the sleeves of the blazer before shoving my hands in the pockets for extra warmth.
‘Why do you always keep so much crap in your pockets?’ I pull out a handful of debris: a receipt from the snacks we bought this morning, an empty chewing gum packet, the flattened box of confetti we chucked outside the registry office, a shrivelled-up balloon from Thea’s birthday party, which we’d sucked the helium out of and sang like chipmunks on the way home, and… ‘Oh my goat.’
Kit’s business card.
I have it. Right now, in my hand.
Kit Kearsley. B.M. Plumbing & Heating.
And his phone number.
‘I borrowed your blazer the night I met Kit.’ I hold out the business card for Jonah to see.
‘I didn’t put it in my purse or drop it in the back of the taxi.
I put it in the pocket of your blazer!’ I wave the business card in triumph.
‘We don’t have to keep rocking up at the piano bar and hoping luck is on our side.
I knew it was fate.’ Jonah’s about to say something but I push myself up on my tiptoes as I see a vehicle approaching in the distance. ‘Is that the recovery van?’
Jonah squints over the expanse of the M6. ‘I think so.’
This has to be a sign: two bits of good luck in the space of a few seconds?
Obviously, in a perfect world, I wouldn’t have lost the business card in the first place, and we wouldn’t have broken down miles away from home, but this isn’t a perfect world.
Far from it. But I’m pretty sure it’s about to get a whole lot better.
The recovery vehicle pulls up and a man in a hi-vis jacket jumps down out of it.
He’s in his mid-twenties with floppy black hair and a charming smile, which he aims at me as he introduces himself as Brett.
He looks under the bonnet of the car while Jonah and I stay behind the safety of the barrier, watching on and appreciating the view as Brett leans over to inspect the car.
‘We’re ogling.’ I state this to Jonah as a prompt for us to stop.
‘I know.’ Jonah doesn’t take his eyes off the mechanic. And neither do I.
Brett steps away from the car, wiping his hands on his thighs before waving me over.
‘I’m afraid I’m not going to be able to fix this at the roadside. Which means you get a ride home in my carriage. I’ll get the car set up to be towed and then you and your husband can hop in.’
I glance back at Jonah, who’s finishing off the last of the Haribo. ‘He isn’t my husband.’
I see the smile fighting to break out on the mechanic’s face. ‘Boyfriend?’ I shake my head. ‘Brother?’
‘Flatmate.’
‘Oh. Right.’ The smile breaks out at full, dazzling wattage. ‘Then give me a few minutes and I’ll get you and your flatmate home safely.’ He winks at me before heading back to the road.
‘Meet-cute?’ Jonah shoves the last handful of sweets in his mouth.
I nod. ‘Meet-very-cute.’
‘So does this mean you’re binning Kit off?’
I’m still holding the business card, and I tighten my grip on it, squishing up the edges slightly. ‘Absolutely not.’
‘What about Mr Hot Mechanic?’ Jonah nods at Brett, who’s doing manly things with his pick-up truck.
‘He’s…’ He’s bending over and I’m fighting to keep my eyes from popping right out of my skull. ‘…He’s a very nice-looking man and I can appreciate that while not wanting a romantic connection.’
‘Because of Kit?’ Jonah scrunches up the empty bag and shoves it into his trouser pocket. ‘Kit who you haven’t even had a first date with? Makes sense.’
‘It does to me. I think. Because what if he really is The One and I mess things up by getting flirty with Brett?’
Jonah sighs. ‘It would be so easy to get flirty with Brett.’
I nudge him with my elbow. ‘Concentrate.’
Jonah smirks. ‘I was concentrating. On the hot recovery guy.’
‘Well, don’t.’ My voice is whiny again. I throw up my chin and make it not so petulant. ‘I have an actual problem here. Because what if Kit isn’t The One? What if Brett is The One and I let him go because I’m working under the assumption that Kit’s The One?’
‘And what if it’s neither of them?’ Jonah tears his gaze away from the hot recovery guy to meet my eye. ‘What if someone else is The One?’
I narrow my eyes at him. ‘Why are you confusing this even more?’ Because now I really don’t know what to do. Is it Kit? Is it Brett? Or is it one of a million other guys?
‘Sorry.’ Jonah looks back down onto the hard shoulder, to the pick-up truck and its hot owner. ‘But if Brett isn’t your One, can I pick up your car when it’s fixed and see if he’s mine?’
‘Go for it.’ I tighten my grip on Kit’s business card, choosing my path.