The Story of You Read Free

was all I could manage.
    ‘Well, aren’t you pleased?’ he said, disappointed. ‘Robyn, come on, you could look a
bit
more excited.’
    But I wasn’t excited, I was irritated: irritated by his having delayed our dinner by twenty minutes to have an argument with the Ex; irritated by him talking about nothing but his ex-wife; irritated and bored to tears with the whole divorce saga. No, I’d made my decision. The fact I didn’t feel even a smidgen of excitement about the prospect of a mini-break (and I’d been hankering after a mini-break for absolutely ages) cemented it.
    I sighed. ‘Oh, Andy, I’m just a bit bored of it, that’s all.’
    ‘Of what?’
    ‘Of always talking about you and Belinda and the girls and the divorce.’
    He looked genuinely hurt and shocked and, for a second, I felt bad.
    ‘But it’s the biggest thing that’s ever happened to me, Robyn, you know that. I can’t just switch my emotions off when I see you. Like a tap!’
    ‘Really?’ I tried not to say it unkindly. ‘Because I’d like you to try, Andy, just a little bit.’
    He frowned, his shoulders slumping, genuinely deflated. ‘But you’re so good at listening.’ The innocence with which he said it killed me. ‘I thought you were interested.’
    ‘Andy, I
am
interested, to a point. All I’m saying is, just, it would be nice to be asked how
I
am, occasionally, and to be allowed to reply in more than one sentence before you start talking about you again.’
    ‘But you don’t like talking about yourself.’
    I kind of laughed. This was true. I had said that.
    ‘But, I didn’t mean like never, ever, ever!’
    Andy searched my face. It was at times like this that I worried he might be on the spectrum. He just really did not get it.
    ‘Your relationship with Belinda and the girls, it’s becoming like a chronic ailment,’ I said. ‘Like a boil on your bum, or sinusitis. It never goes away, and yet, I get a daily update, whether I like it or not. And whenever I suggest anything that might help, you’re not interested. Sometimes I feel like you just want to moan.’
    ‘Oh,’ he said, ‘I see. Well, can I make it up to you? Will you come away? I’ve booked a lovely hotel in Watford.’
    ‘
Watford?
’
    ‘That’s the nearest town – it’s actually on the outskirts of Watford. It has a spa, a golf course. I could play a round whilst you get pampered. Have a facial or a massage – one of those treatments all you girls like to have?’
    ‘Andy,’ I said, and as the words left my mouth, I did feel reassuringly sad. ‘I don’t think it would be a good idea to go away together. In fact, I think we should break up. I’m really sorry, but I just think this isn’t working any more.’

Chapter Two
March
    Robyn,
    I hate to do this on Facebook, but I haven’t got your number and the email address I tried doesn’t work any more. I’ve got some really bad news: my mum died suddenly on Tuesday. She was fine, went out for a curry with Dad, then came home and had a heart attack. I can’t believe it. I know what people mean now when they say, ‘I keep expecting her to walk through the door.’
    I’ve never seen my dad like this. I know this won’t have rocked his faith in the long run, but he’s struggling. I think he realizes it’s different when it happens to you, you know?
    Personally, I am enraged: I mean, fifty-nine? WTF. Thirty years of service and that’s how he repays my dad? If one more person tells me he works in mysterious ways, I’ll punch them. I remember you saying that to me once, after your mum died. I remember exactly where we were, too – down the cricket ground. I probably gave you a cuddle, then tried to slip my hand up your top …
God
, I’m sorry, Robbie. Going through all that at sixteen, with only a sixteen-year-old me to talk to. I had no idea. Now I do.
    The first person I thought of calling was you, because I knew you’d understand but, like I say, I had no number, so here I am telling