CHAPTER NINETEEN
After a week, Scarlet is bemoaning the fact I’m not coming home. It’s only been a week. Chill out. I’ll come back soon, I promise.
I will. I can’t stay here for ever. As much as I’d love to. The job hunt continues. Scarlet and I send messages back and forth, but her job is busy and she’s filling her evenings by watching all the stuff she series-links on our TV catch-up, which I’m just not that into. She says my prolonged stay elsewhere feels like a mini-divorce. Although she knows I’ll be back at some point and I indicated as much to Josh, he seemed up for me staying another week. I think that’s probably enough time together, so that we don’t overdo things. In the meantime, Scarlet’s whizzing through all those cop dramas I can’t stand as quickly as possible.
It’s a shame TV doesn’t have a x2 speed option, the way audiobooks do, she laments one evening as I’m cooking potatoes dauphinoise and chicken Kiev for me and Josh.
I realise, in hindsight, this dinner is going to be garlicky, but it’s too late now. I’m learning how to play at being a farmer’s wife, even if I’m not one. I’m enjoying it. It’s novel. It’s nice not to be temping, and I’ve decided not to think about how broke I am. Not this week. I’m on a sort of holiday.
I glance at the phone as Scarlet’s next message lands. I’ll reply later, when I’m not willing 500ml of cream to simmer, but not burn. I’ve learned how to find my way around this Aga and I’m secretly very proud. It’s a genius contraption. I might suggest to Scarlet that we get one, although I think the weight of this in our first-floor flat might kill the tenants below, if it ever plummets through the floor. Also, the expense of the thing. I’ve googled.
It turns out Scarlet can’t wait for a response, as my phone rings. Josh looks up from a copy of Farmers Weekly as I swipe to answer.
‘Are you still alive?’ she asks, ‘because you didn’t acknowledge the genius of my two-speed comment.’
‘I’m acknowledging the genius now,’ I tell her with mock-seriousness. ‘Although I know you can increase the speed on YouTube videos, if that’s any use to you?’
‘It’s not. Nothing I want to watch is on there,’ she says and then changes tack, whining, ‘You’ve been gone ages. What’s happening? Why are you still there? Are you sure you’re not being held prisoner?’
‘I’m not a prisoner,’ I tell her, which elicits a snort from Josh as he turns a page. ‘I’m currently cooking potatoes dauphinoise,’ I say.
After a beat she replies, ‘What the fuck is that?’
‘Sliced potatoes in cream and garlic, basically. It’s really easy to make. We have a lot of potatoes, so I thought I’d—’
But she cuts into my monologue. ‘We?’ she asks. ‘You’ve been there a week and it’s … we have a lot of potatoes?’
‘Josh,’ I correct myself and, thinking he’s being addressed, he raises his head to look at me. ‘Josh has a lot of potatoes.’ I give him the nod to indicate that he can go back to his magazine. ‘Although I went to the farm shop to buy them, and so I guess … we have a lot of potatoes.’ Scarlet says nothing in return and so I follow up with, ‘Hello?’
‘I’m still here,’ she says quietly. ‘Are you coming back? Are you thinking about getting a job or … are you there full-time now?’
‘Of course I’m not.’ But I don’t carry on because I have no idea what Josh and I are doing, and I don’t necessarily want him to overhear this conversation. We’re enjoying each other’s company and I’m enjoying being here. It’s only been a week. ‘I need to finish dinner, can I call you back?’ I suggest.
‘OK. Call me after dinner. I want to talk to you about our spa day.’
‘What spa day?’ I ask, distracted by my inept culinary skills.
‘The spa day you snogged Josh to win,’ she replies, as if she can’t believe how easily I’ve forgotten. Of course: I snogged Josh to win a spa day. And now I’m here, weeks later, cooking what I consider to be a gourmet dinner for us both. How strange this is. I can see Scarlet’s point. And I know later on she’s only going to use the spa day as an excuse to stick it to me again about being here, although she is sweet to remember my winnings and to push it forward, when she didn’t have to because, as it turns out, I had completely forgotten.
After dinner Josh and I mosey towards the TV and sip cups of tea while we watch the news. This has become our happy evening ritual. I don’t often watch the news – it’s usually there in the background while I wait for the good stuff to come on – but Josh makes a point of putting it on, and I watch the various European comings and goings with glazed eyes. I glance over to Josh as a story breaks about another politician sleeping with someone they shouldn’t have, and I find Josh has nodded off. I could go in search of the Kardashians on whatever channel they’re on now, but I don’t. I look at Josh’s sleeping form and feel some sort of sense of duty.
‘Let’s go to bed,’ I prod him, and he blinks himself awake, gets up willingly. I’ve already loaded the dishwasher and it whirs comfortingly in the background as we head up the stairs. I could get used to this life.
While Josh is at work the next day I ring Scarlet on what I know will be her usual lunch hour, and I apologise for being a shit flatmate and not calling her back the night before.
‘Can we plan our spa day now?’ she asks.
‘Yes, please,’ I reply, the diary open on my phone, which is a pointless thing to do because it’s blank. I know it’s blank. There’s nothing in there, given that I’ve had to decline all invites due to a lack of cash.
‘I thought we could tack it on to our stay in Edinburgh in February,’ she suggests.
‘Great,’ I respond enthusiastically.
‘We should stay overnight,’ she says, ‘or the train journey home after a day of pampering might be a bit of a downer.’
‘I can’t,’ I’m quick to say. ‘I can’t afford—’
‘I’ll pay,’ Scarlet cuts in. ‘It’s part of the bingo deal.’
‘No, I can’t accept that,’ I protest.
‘I want to spend time with you,’ she replies. ‘If luring you away from the sexy farmer’s gorgeous house involves spending a bit of money on an overnight break, then let’s do it. Let’s treat ourselves.’
‘I won’t still be here in February ,’ I say.
She ignores the comment and says, ‘I quite fancy a little Edinburgh jaunt. I hardly ever go anywhere that isn’t an overnight stay for someone’s poxy wedding, so the spa will be a nice bonus. And I’ve booked us a chain-hotel room nearby, rather than staying in the swanky hotel the night of the wedding.’
‘Oh, you didn’t have to do that for me.’
‘I didn’t do it for you. The wedding hotel is three hundred and fifty pounds per night per room. Even I’m not enough of a muppet to pay that. We’ll get some luxury at the spa day anyway.’
‘Thanks. I’m sure I’ll have a job by then to pay my way, if our travel choices stay relatively frugal.’ I am not sure of this at all.
‘So I’ll book the spa,’ she says, without acknowledging my mention of being hopeful about a job. ‘No arguments.’
I love her so much. ‘Thank you. You are one in a million.’
‘I know,’ she says. ‘Perhaps, as it’s going to be Valentine’s weekend, we can pretend we’re a couple and it’s our anniversary – maybe the spa will offer us a free bottle of fizz.’
‘Pah! Try it. See what happens.’
‘I will. I’ll report back. What are you up to today, if sexy farmer is out sexy farming?’
‘No idea,’ I reply. ‘It’s halfway through the day already, so he’ll be home for lunch shortly. Josh usually makes us both a sandwich. I feel like I should be doing some household chores or something. I make the bed each day after I get out of it, and the kitchen gets a once-over after I’ve cooked dinner, but that’s only because I’ve obliterated it, using every single pan there is. Do you think I should be doing more? Should I change the sheets, do you think, or give the bathroom a proper clean? Or should I be the one making him lunch? What do you think?’
‘You really do sound like you live there now,’ Scarlet says unhelpfully. ‘I thought you were working on your portfolio.’
‘I’ve done that. And I’ve applied for some jobs. I’m not sure what else to do now. I feel like I need to pay my way, and this is the only way I can.’
‘Does he have a cleaner? How did he do it all before you came along?’
‘No idea. The house was spotlessly clean when I arrived, though.’
‘Maybe his mum does it,’ she laughs.
‘Don’t!’ I say and laugh in return.
‘Maybe Tamara does it!’ She splutters even harder with laughter.
‘Stop!’ I tell her, but I can’t help laughing.
‘Do you think you’ll just abandon me and stay there for ever?’ she asks and the mood changes.
‘No, of course not,’ I reply. ‘I could easily stay here, though. This life, it’s easy. Too easy. But I do need to get a job, and I can’t live here rent-free much longer.’
‘Why not? You live rent-free with me every now and again,’ Scarlet digs, but I can hear the smile in her voice.
‘I know. But I always catch up in the end,’ I say in a sing-song voice.
‘True,’ she confirms.
‘Anyway, someone sent me a really good job listing and I’ve applied.’
‘Ooh, have you? What’s the job?’ Scarlet asks and I break into a few short, sharp facts about meeting Chris at the wedding and how he sent me the listing. I don’t tell her exactly how well Chris and I got on the night we met, that had things been different – had I said yes to his suggestion to go with him to New York – I might be there right now, living a dream life in New York with Chris, instead of living this dream life in the countryside with Josh.
So she’s armed with some of the facts, but not all of them, because I don’t want her to read too much into the fact that I met Chris before I met Josh and that he asked me to get on a plane with him.
‘What are you doing tonight?’ I ask, changing tack.
‘I’m off to a gallery opening with a friend. Some singer fancies himself as a photographer, so I’m going to go and issue praise wildly while knowing in advance the photos are going to be all really arty and really shit. What about you?’
‘Being jealous of your night out,’ I say.
‘You could come along?’ she suggests. ‘How long is it from Josh’s farm to London?’
‘Bloody for ever. I would, but I can’t. We’re going over to Tamara’s for dinner tonight.’
‘What’s she cooking?’ Scarlet probes.
‘Don’t know.’
‘Can you ask her what kind of grout cleaner she uses in Josh’s bathroom, please? I’m having a nightmare getting ours to—’
‘Oh, piss off,’ I tell her.