Chapter Twenty-Two
J ill kept checking her phone, but Leonard had gone on radio silence, even though he’d said he’d call.
Arsehole.
Well, she was not going to be the type of woman who waited around for a phone call. Then found herself picking it up and checking it was indeed switched on. Disgusted with herself, she put it in her back pocket and made her way into the kitchen. Her eyes once again moved to the empty spot on the counter and a lone tear trailed down her cheek. Brushing it away, she opened the fridge, and had her head in it, rooting through the contents for something to eat when her phone went.
“Ouch, son of a bitch,” she groaned, straightening up and rubbing her forehead as she pulled her phone out.
“Jill, you there?”
“Hi Amanda,” she sighed, slamming the fridge door and glaring at it as she left the kitchen and dropped onto the sofa.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just tired. I was trying to figure out what to eat,” she told her.
“It’s nearly 9 in the evening. Why have you not eaten before now?” came Amanda’s rebuke and she sighed.
“I’m not hungry,” she told her, head dropping back on the sofa.
“I know Moby’s gone, but you must eat,” Amanda told her gently.”
“It was awful, coming in from work and him not at the front of his bowl to great me,” she sobbed.
“Oh, honey. I’m sorry I’m not close enough to give you a hug.”
“I know,” Jill sighed, blowing her nose and wiping her eyes. “How’s Polly?”
“She’s good, she sends her love.”
“Tell her, love her back.”
“Will do, now how’s that man of yours?”
“Pfft,” Jill replied.
“Uh, oh, is there trouble in paradise?”
“I don’t understand him, Amanda.” Jill sighed.
“I thought he was the best thing since sliced bread?”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Jill sighed.
“What’s he done?”
“It’s what he hasn’t done.”
“Spill, and hang on while I take a seat. I have a feeling this may take some time. Okay, I’m sitting, now tell me all about it,” she cooed.
“He won’t… he’s not…”
“He won’t, he’s not, what?”
“He won’t sleep with me,” Jill sighed.
“You’ve not slept with him?”
“Well, he’s slept with me, he’s just not…”
“The horizontal shuffle,” Amanda supplied. “But I thought he’d been giving you the big ‘O’?”
“Well, yes, but not through…”
“So the train hasn’t entered the station yet then?”
“Good analogy, and no. Maybe he doesn’t like me.”
“Don’t be silly, he’d be stupid not to like you, and from what you’ve told me he’s not stupid. Plus, he’s taken you to a posh restaurant and the ballet.”
“You’ve not seen the way women throw themselves at him Amanda, it’s bloody weird.”
“Please, do you not remember how it was with me and Polly in the beginning?”
“Oh yes, I’d forgotten about that.”
“Yeah, well I haven’t. It’s damn unsettling when you are eating a meal and people come over hitting on your date,” Amanda told her with a sigh.
“Yeah,” Jill sympathised.
“Anyway, how am I meant to compete with those women. I mean, I’m not exactly runway material.”
“Of course you are, just a pocket rocket version,” Amanda replied, making her laugh.
“Umpa lumpa proportions,” Jill replied dryly.
“No, just small and curvy. You have a woman’s figure, fifties pin up, you know hips.”
“Don’t I know it. It’s just a pity I didn’t get the boobs to go with them.”
“You have nice boobs, small and perky.”
“Eew, that sound wrong coming from you.”
“It did actually. I feel kind of skanky now, like eyeing up my sister.”
“Ha-ha-ha,” Jill laughed.
“So, are you okay now?”
“Yes, I will be.”
“Oh, and Jill, give him some time, okay?”
“I’ll try.”
“Good, right I’m off, Polly’s waiting for me in the bathtub.”
“Lovely, visual, thanks for that,” Jill told her with a shudder.
“You’re welcome, love you Jilly-bobs, speak soon.”
“Love you too Amanda, have fun,” with that she pressed end on her friend’s assurance that she would be.
Sitting back, she stared at her now blank phone screen. Her finger hovered over the button to turn on her menu, but she held off. She knew he’d been to a funeral today, Thomas had told her in work. She’d felt dreadful, he’d not said a thing about it to her last night. No wonder he hadn’t understood her upset over the loss of her beloved goldfish, he’d known he was attending the funeral of a 15-year-old boy. Not any boy, but one he knew and had found, having to break the news to his parents. God, she’d felt dreadful all day. She dropped her phone and pushed up off the sofa again, because her stomach was rumbling now, she needed sustenance.
Once again, she had her head in the fridge rooting through the contents, when the doorbell went.
“Motherfucker,” she groaned, banging her head again. Straightening up, before she shut the fridge door. This time she kicked it after glaring at it, and then hobbled to the front door.