Chapter Forty
By the time I’d brought Lisa up to date and told her all about Milo’s offer of moving into his guest accommodation, she was agog.
We were briefly interrupted by Juan. He wandered out to see what was going on. Lisa sent him back to bed and said she wouldn’t be long. Juan blew her a kiss, then bid me goodnight, before retreating to the bedroom.
‘Goodnight, Teely,’ he said, in his heavy accent. ‘It wazza nice to meeta yooo.’
‘You too,’ I said.
Lisa and I then had a hushed conversation with Lisa immediately breaking her promise that she would shortly return to Juan’s side. However, the snores coming from next door told me he wasn’t missing her.
Lisa then prattled on about Juan, Juan, Juan, and peculiarly I burbled on about Milo, Milo, Milo.
‘But Tilly,’ she said eventually. ‘You can’t move into this guy’s garden, for heaven’s sake. You’re not thinking straight.’
‘Of course I’m thinking straight,’ I countered. ‘It’s perfect for me.’
‘It’s a glorified garden shed,’ she snapped.
‘It really isn’t,’ I said. ‘It’s more like a studio apartment and rather amazing. Yes, there was a garden shed. But Milo replaced it. It’s all pukka. Honest. The place is even connected to mains drainage.’
‘So’s my garden hose,’ she said wryly. ‘Look, you’ve had terrible mentionitis, and I don’t need to be Einstein to realise that you have a thumping great crush on the guy-’
‘I absolutely do not,’ I protested as my neck did a giveaway flush. I was glad of the gloomy light.
‘And I’ve seen Milo Soren with my own eyes’ – she swept on, ignoring my denial – ‘so I totally get where you’re coming from.’
‘Lisa, you–’
‘Even so,’ she interrupted. ‘You’re acting impulsively. There is no need to rush out of my place. Okay, I know it’s not an ideal situation. However, Juan has things to do in Spain before he returns. Therefore, you have plenty of time to get registered with an online rental company and find, oh, I don’t know, student digs, or something.’
‘Student digs?’ I scoffed. ‘Can you really see me sharing a house with a bunch of uni kids? I can visualise it now – a kitchen sink bunged up with pots and pans. An overflowing dustbin – complete with split liner. Damp laundry festooned over every radiator. My food being ‘borrowed’ – possibly my clothes too. Not forgetting the whiff of funny fags twenty-four-seven.’
‘No self-respecting student will want to borrow your clothes,’ Lisa countered.
I noticed that she hadn’t contradicted the rest of my verbal thumbnail sketch about life in a student house.
‘Thanks, but no thanks,’ I said. My tone was final.
‘Then at least stay here until Juan returns,’ she begged. ‘I can’t bear to think of my bestie living in a garden shed.’
‘I’ve already told you, it’s not like that.’
‘You know what I mean,’ she huffed.
‘Apparently, Milo is Italian. He had the outbuilding overhauled especially for when his family visit.’
‘Fine, fine.’ She threw up her hands. ‘It’s your life. Just don’t blame me when you have chilblains, and your clothes smell of damp, and you constantly have the sniffles due to living in a garden.’
‘I won’t,’ I said. There was no convincing her, so I gave up. Instead, I put out a hand. Touched her on the arm. ‘Thank you for being concerned. For caring. I know you mean well.’
‘If things don’t work out, you can always come back here for a while.’
‘Things will work out,’ I insisted. ‘Anyway, it’s only a stop gap.’
‘Stop gaps can last a while,’ she said. ‘I mean, how long is a piece of string?’
‘In this case, the string is short,’ I assured. ‘Especially as I feel like I’m finally getting somewhere with the house hunting.’
‘Have you found something you like?’ she asked in surprise.
‘No,’ I said carefully. ‘But I’ve done a lot of research. Driven around. Checked out areas.’
‘Good,’ she said, standing up. ‘Give me your cup.’ She held out one hand and I passed her my empty mug. ‘I’ll dump these in the sink and wash them up in the morning.’
‘I think it already is the morning,’ I said regretfully. ‘We’ve been talking for ages. Heavens, it’s half past one. We’re going to feel like death warmed up tomorrow.’
‘Er, about tomorrow – or, rather, today,’ said Lisa, suddenly bashful. ‘I’m going to stay with Juan until the very last moment. I’ll be in about lunchtime. Can you make up an excuse to tell Leslie?’
‘Oh, Lis- aaa ,’ I wailed. ‘I hate telling porky pies. Leslie always gives the look . You know what I mean. Where he says nothing, but his eyes morph into a lie detector machine. And you know I’m rubbish at lying.’
‘Tell him I had an upset tummy.’
‘Can’t you phone in and tell him yourself?’
‘No, silly, because he’ll know I’m lying from my voice.’
‘I’ll tell him a half-lie,’ I conceded. ‘I’ll say that you forgot to set your alarm and that when I last saw you, you were racing around like a lunatic, putting your tights on back to front. He knows the roads will be heaving with parents doing the school run, so that gives you until about 10 o’clock – at an absolute push.’
One thing about the stretch between Longfield and Meopham was the number of schools. There were three junior schools plus a vast secondary, all within a mile of each other. At certain times of the morning, it was carnage on the A227, what with school buses and rush hour traffic in the mix. It was even worse if some of the mums – and there were many – wrestled pushchairs from their boots. This was a sure sign that Mothers’ Meetings were imminent on various pavements all over Meopham.
‘Okay,’ said Lisa reluctantly. ‘Getting in at ten rather than midday is better than nothing. So, I guess tonight is your last night in my humble abode?’
‘It is,’ I beamed, then hastily killed the smile. Lisa’s sofa – and new love life – might not have been great for me, but she’d been a true friend. Supportive, kind and caring. ‘I shall miss you.’ I stepped forward and gave her a big hug.
‘Silly,’ she said, squeezing me back. ‘I’ll see you at work every day.’
‘That you will,’ I assured. ‘But I want to say thank you. For everything. You’re a diamond.’
‘Stop it,’ she said, as I let her go. We were now both sniffing a bit. ‘When will you pack up your stuff?’ she asked gruffly.
I swiped a hand quickly over my cheek.
‘I’ll pop back in my lunch hour tomorrow. Load up Octavia. Then, after work, I’ll head over to Starlight Croft.’
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘And maybe – when you’ve unpacked and sorted yourself out – I’ll pop over with a bottle of wine. We’ll share it while you give me a guided tour of your garden shed.’
I burst out laughing.
‘You’re on.’