Twenties Girl

I’m cradling my phone in my lap, and every so often I turn on my texts to read them again. I’ve been texting Josh all day, just to keep my spirits up. And he’s sent two texts back! Quite short ones, but even so. He’s at some dreary work conference in Milton Keynes and he said he can’t wait to be back home.

Which obviously means he can’t wait to see me!

I’m debating whether to send him another light, friendly text, asking him what he’s doing, when I glance up and notice Sadie sitting on the fireplace in a pale gray chiffony dress.

“Oh, hi,” I say. “Where did you get to?”

“At the cinema. I watched two films.” She shoots me an accusing look. “You know, it gets very lonely during the day. You’re so preoccupied with your work.”

She’d be preoccupied if she had Janet Grady on her tail.

“Well, I’m very sorry I have to earn a living,” I reply, a little sarcastically. “I’m sorry I’m not a lady of leisure and can’t watch movies all day-”

“Have you got the necklace yet?” she says, right over me. “Have you done anything more about it?”

“No, Sadie,” I say tetchily. “I haven’t. I’ve had a few other problems today, as it happens.” I wait for her to ask what those problems are, but she just gives a distant shrug. Isn’t she even going to ask me what happened? Isn’t she going to offer me any sympathy? Some guardian angel she is.

“Josh has been texting me; isn’t that great?” I add, to annoy her.

She gives me a baleful look. “It’s not great. The whole thing is absolutely false.”

She glares at me and I glare back. Obviously, neither of us is in a brilliant mood tonight.

“It’s not false. It’s real. You saw him kiss me; you heard what he said.”

“He’s a puppet,” says Sadie dismissively. “He said whatever I told him to say. I could have told him to make love to a tree and he would have done. I’ve never known anyone so weak-willed! I barely had to whisper at him and he jumped.”

She’s so arrogant. Who does she think she is, God?

“That’s rubbish,” I say coldly. “OK, I know you nudged him a bit. But he would never say he loved me unless there was a basis of truth. He was obviously expressing what he really feels, deep down.”

Sadie gives a sarcastic laugh. “‘What he really feels deep down.’ Darling, you’re too amusing. He doesn’t have any feelings for you.”

“He does!” I spit. “Of course he does! He had my picture on his phone, didn’t he? He’d been carrying it around all this time! That’s love.”

“It’s not love. Don’t be ridiculous.” Sadie seems so sure of herself, I feel a swell of absolute fury.

“Well, you’ve never even been in love! So what would you know about it? Josh is a real man, with real feelings and real love, something you know nothing about. And you can think what you like, but I really believe I can make things work, I really believe Josh has deep feelings for me-”

“It’s not enough to believe!” Sadie’s voice is suddenly passionate, almost savage. “Don’t you see that, you stupid girl? You could spend your whole life hoping and believing! If a love affair is one-sided, then it’s only ever a question, never an answer. You can’t live your life waiting for an answer.”

She flushes and swivels away.

There’s a sharp silence, except for two EastEnders laying into each other on-screen. My mouth has dropped open in astonishment, and I notice I’m about to tip wine all over the sofa. I right my hand and take a gulp. Bloody hell. What was that outburst all about?

I thought Sadie didn’t care about love. I thought she only cared about having fun and tally-ho and the sizzle. But just then she sounded as if…

“Is that what happened to you, Sadie?” I say tentatively to her back. “Did you spend your whole life waiting for an answer?”

Instantly, she disappears. No warning, no “see you later.” She just vanishes.

She can’t do this to me. I have to know more. There’s got to be a story here. I switch off the TV and call loudly into thin air. All my annoyance has evaporated; I’m consumed by curiosity instead.

“Sadie! Tell me! It’s good to talk about things!” The room is silent, but somehow I’m sure she’s still there. “Come on,” I say, wheedling. “I’ve told you everything about me. And I’m your great-niece. You can trust me. I won’t tell anyone.”

Still nothing.

“Whatever.” I shrug. “Thought you had more guts than that.”