Page 45 of When We Are Old

“Ange, please. Can’t you be happy for me, for us? It’s taken us so long to get here.”

“Oh, my friend, I am happy for you, very much so. I just hope it lasts. You’ve already had one man make you miserable.” I opened my mouth to tell her to shut up. “Oh, don’t act so surprised. All this guilt you carry around, feeling so awful that you’ve been in love with Matthew all these years. Do you think Paul didn’t know that? I can assure you he did.”

“Angela, please?” I reached my hand for her. “Please don’t be like this; don’t be bitter.”

“No, Ronnie. You don’t be like this. All these years we’ve been together, been the very best of friends and you act like I don’t know what’s going on with you.”

“You’re just like my mother. You ignore my problems like they're a joke.”

“No! Ronnie. You ignore your problems. You always have and you leave everyone else in the dark while you do it. You are just like your mother. The sooner you see that the better.”

“I do see it,” I whispered. “I do.” I cleared my throat. “But the other day you said that you’d been the only one there for me, but I see now that wasn’t true. Matthew has always been there for me too. He even came after Paul died and you sent him away.”

“Because he’s going to break your heart, Ronnie. Worse than Paul ever did.”

“That’s not true. I made Paul that way by telling him about Matthew.”

I couldn’t look up into his face. Couldn’t see the questions there.

“Can we leave it, please,” Matthew said, curt and crisp.

My phone rang in my bag and I breathed a sigh of relief. Until I looked at the screen and saw Hannah’s name flashing with ominous persistence. I turned to Ange. “You were at the house? Everything was okay?”

“Yeah, loud, lots of laughing, but it was still standing and there wasn’t smoke billowing out of the windows.” I categorised this quickly on Ange’s ‘Successful Party Scale’ and then shrugged.

“Just answer the phone. What’s the worst that can have happened?”

What’s the worst that can have happened? It could flop, her friends could all decide to leave and go somewhere better, cooler; that boy, Jackson could have made her cry and she’d hit him in the nuts…

I dragged in a breath and Matthew held his hand out for the phone. Ange’s mouth fell open and she stared him down like they both stood on opposing sides of no mans’ land.

“Here?” Matthew gestured again.

“It’s okay.” My chest refused to allow air into my lungs. “I’m used to dealing with things by myself.”

He smiled, the most adorable little upturn of his mouth. “You forget I’m here.”

Ange made a gagging noise but zipped it when levelled with my killer glare.

“No really, it’s fine.”

I stabbed at the screen with my index finger and answered. Listened. Listened some more. Then with the reflexes of a cat I straightened from my chair and grabbed my bag. “We'll be there in five.”

My we was a loose descriptor for our table of discomfort.

“What’s going on?” Matthew shot from his seat, Ange not far behind.

“If it’s a boy,” she said, "I will break his kneecaps."

“Annabelle and another girl are drunk and locked in the bathroom and apparently there are people there that Hannah doesn’t know. Sixth formers or something.”

Ange nodded, calculating the facts. “Cool party.”

“Okay, you can’t stay if you aren’t helpful.”

“Sweetheart, no one cleans up sick like I do.”

I pursed my lips. She had a fair point.