To own my life.

Chapter 25

I have not heard from Noah for days. Three weeks, two days, and fourteen hours to be more precise. Not that I’m counting, or have it marked off on the calendar on my phone. Or seared into my brain.

Not that I expected him to get in touch. I just hoped. I just thought maybe there was a remote possibility that because he took his duties so seriously, he might insist I finished the course and send some worksheets, or at least get in touch to tell me I’d failed.

Okay. I’m crazy.

‘I am never going to suggest you write review comments about romance books again. This is just like when you did that bloody window display for Valentine’s Day!’ Bea rips up the little card I’d put in front of a pile of books and drops it in the bin with a flourish.

‘It’s not that bad.’ I say sulkily, straightening a pile of books.

‘“Not quite as unrealistic as a lot in its genre and with a great unexpected killer twist”, is not going to entice romcom readers to part with their money, is it? “And if you like predictable and as sweet and sickly as a kilo of fudge then this could be for you.” Really, Rosie?’

‘That was a joke. I didn’t actually put that one on the shelf.’

‘What is the matter with you, girl? You need to get out, get a flaming date, for heaven’s sake, and stop moping!’

‘I’m not moping.’

‘Yes, you are, you’re worse than when Robbie left, tons worse.’

‘I’m not.’

‘Go and try out your seduction skills, get laid and let go of some of that tension.’

‘I can’t!’

‘Get laid?’

‘Chat people up, flirt, whatever you want to call it!’

‘Oh, come on. What do you mean you can’t? Are you saying Noah did a crap job, that he didn’t teach you a single thing about seduction?’

‘No,’ I say sulkily.

‘This is about your dad, isn’t it?’ Her tone softens, and she puts her hand on my arm. ‘Your mum’s already moved on.’

Yeah, she has, to Cornwall to be precise. She’s had the locks changed at home – to make sure Dad can’t move back in undetected while she’s away, packed her new rucksack and buggered off to walk the Cornish Coast Path. I have already had reports of seals, King Arthur and the new tattoo on her left arse cheek. My mother is having more fun than I am.

‘It’s not my dad, all right? This is not about him. He’s old news.’

‘Oh.’ She pauses. ‘This is about Noah then, isn’t it!’

‘Can’t I just not want to date?’

‘And waste all that lovely new underwear?’

‘I’m quite happy without a man.’

‘Yeah, right, you’re totally happy without sex just like I’m totally happy when I cut out booze, or carbs, or breathing.’

‘You’re being silly now! Are we really expecting to sell this many copies of this book?’