Never a Perfect Moment (7 page)

THIRTEEN

The next morning Polly lay on her bed, listening to the water run as Eve took her shower. She'd been in there for a good forty minutes now, and Polly was desperate to wash her hair.

She whiled away the wait by thinking of Ollie. His wide shoulders, his heartbreaking smile. The locket she still wore around her neck. She hadn't taken it off since Ollie had given it to her. It was like a talisman. Proof that everything would work out fine. Somehow.

She just had to break the news to Ollie about Friday. Swinging her legs off the bed, Polly padded over to Eve's bag and started hunting for her phone. Tissues, lipsticks, a pink leather diary, a purse containing about four credit cards. Polly couldn't help but whistle as she stared at the gold one. What must it be like, she wondered, not having to worry about money for a single minute?

No phone. Eve had hidden it well. Polly sat down on the bed again. If Eve took much longer, she would have to take a wash downstairs in the kitchen sink.

“That's better,” said Eve, padding back into the bedroom in a pure white towelling robe. Her auburn hair hung in shiny wet tendrils down her back. “Steaming your pores is so important. I try and do it every day.”

Finally
, Polly thought. She sat up.

“Can I go in the bathroom now?”

“What a silly question! It's your house, Polly,” Eve said generously. “Of course you can. Oh, wait, I need to floss.”

Ten more minutes passed. Polly tried not to feel too irritated when Eve swanned out of the bathroom again, running her tongue over her perfect white teeth.

“So what are we going to do today?” Eve asked brightly. She surveyed her clothes, which lay in tangled heaps all over Polly's carpet. It had taken every bit of Polly's self-control not to pick them up and fold them and arrange them in neat piles. “It would be good to know
before
I get dressed so I can be sure of wearing the right thing.”

“We don't normally do much on Sundays,” said Polly, tearing her eyes from Eve's mountain of clothes and eyeing the bathroom longingly.

“I'll think of something fun,” said Eve. “How about—”

“Going in the bathroom now,” said Polly.

She shut the bathroom door, and looked around in dismay.
More
mess. The tiny room looked like a bomb had hit it. Dripping shampoo bottles lay on their sides in the tub. The shower curtain was soaked and hanging out of the bath, water dripping and puddling on the bath mat.

Polly found the only dry part of the bathroom floor and stood there, breathing hard.

Stay calm
, she instructed herself.

The fact remained that Eve had needed a place to stay and Polly had offered. It was what friends did. Friends shouldn't get worked up over damp towels, she knew, but she couldn't help herself. How much longer would Eve be staying? She needed space to
think
.

Polly located the only dry towel and laid it out on the chair. Then she climbed into the shower and turned on the taps. She closed her eyes, waiting for the familiar soothing, warm whoosh to come out of the shower attachment.

“Aaargh!”

The water was stone cold.

 

“Is Eve still getting up?” Polly's mum peered up the stairs at the sound of banging and crashing.

Polly helped herself to a third piece of toast. She needed it, after the coldest shower she'd ever experienced. “It's not easy, looking like Eve,” she said.

Her mother put her hands on her hips. “Do you know how long she's going to stay, Polly? I don't mean to be a bad host, but I'm not sure this house can cope with Eve for much longer.”

“I'm not sure
I
can cope with Eve for much longer,” Polly sighed.

Her mother regarded her. “Getting a bit much, is she?”

“I like Eve,” Polly said helplessly. “Really, I do. She's hard work but she's basically a kind person. She doesn't mean to be annoying. She just … is.”

“Why don't I call Beth and take you girls to the shops?”

Polly looked gratefully at her mother. “Would you do that?”

“Of course I would,” said her mother. “I could use a new work jacket. And Beth wants to show me some cushions she's thinking of getting. Let's all go down to the high street this morning and have some fun.”

“Did someone say shopping?” said Eve, gliding into the kitchen. Her hair lay in perfect curls on her shoulders, and her white shirt looked as crisp as a layer of freshly fallen snow.

Polly tried to smile. “Mum and Beth are offering to take us into town today. What do you think?”

“That's
so
kind, I'd
love
that.” Eve clapped her hands. “I know! I'll buy everyone something special. As a way of saying thank you for having me to stay.”

Polly's mother looked startled. “Really, Eve, there's no need to—”

“I insist,” said Eve. She sat down at the kitchen table and looked at the teapot with its chipped spout. “How about a new teapot? I'm sure I could find you a lovely one.”

“I quite like the one we've got, thanks,” said Polly's mum. “It's full of memories.”

And tea
, Polly thought.

“You really don't need to buy anything for us, Eve,” her mum continued. “It's been a pleasure having you.”

“Well, I will anyway,” said Eve, looking determined. “And I'll buy you something too, Polly. There is a darling new boutique that's opened on Marine Parade with the most glorious cashmere. We can go there.”

Polly caught her mother's eye. Cashmere wasn't really her thing.

“That's very kind of you, Eve,” said Polly's mum with a sigh. “We'd love to accept. I'll just call Beth and tell her to meet us at the Ciao Café in what, half an hour?”

FOURTEEN

Polly sat a little further down in her chair. She wished Eve hadn't chosen the window seat in the café. Everyone walking down Church Road and along the high street could see them all sitting there. Eve and Polly's mum and Ms Andrews and her. She'd seen at least five people she recognized from school poke each other and whisper at the sight of Polly's mum and their history teacher with Eve.

“Is everything all right, Polly?” said Polly's mum, noticing.

“I just dropped my napkin,” Polly mumbled.

She knew it was wrong to feel this embarrassed. So her mum was dating her history teacher. And the whole school was gossiping about Eve's sexuality. So what? Why did any of it matter?

As Polly straightened up, she was surprised to see tears rolling down Eve's cheeks. She'd obviously missed something important in the conversation.

“People can be so unkind,” said Polly's mother with feeling.

Ms Andrews nodded in agreement. “If the world were more open to difference, it would be a much happier place. How have you been coping?”

Two year eleven boys gawped through the window at their table, threw their heads back and roared with laughter. Polly died yet another death.

“It hasn't been great,” Eve admitted, dabbing at her cheeks with a balled-up napkin. “Coming right after the awful tragedy with Ryan, and Daddy being in the papers, and all those horrible things the journalist said about how irresponsible I was. And then the gay thing at school, and my mum's awful reaction. It's been tough.”

Polly's mother and Ms Andrews murmured sympathetically. Polly sat, frozen with guilt, scolding herself for being so hard on Eve. Had she forgotten all the problems Eve had been dealing with lately? She resolved to be more patient with her. After coffee, they split up. Eve and Polly headed to some of the clothes shops along the front, while Polly's mum and Ms Andrews went to the homeware store on Church Road to look at cushions.

“This is the place I was talking about this morning,” said Eve, seizing Polly's hand and dragging her towards a little shop. “Come on, let's see if I can find you something nice.”

Polly sat on the small spindly chair at the back of the shop as Eve exclaimed over the shining chrome rails of little beaded tops and trousers. This wasn't the kind of place Polly was used to shopping in. Everything looked too perfect. Even a little boring, if she was honest. Polly enjoyed bright colours and fun patterns.

A price tag brushed against her face. She glanced absently at the tag.

A hundred and fifty pounds for a cardigan?
Polly thought, glued to her chair. That was insane.

“Here,” Eve said, thrusting a thin sea-green jumper into Polly's arms. “Just your colour. Have you thought about dying your hair again? I'm not sure the black works with your skin tone. A softer blonde would be better. That's your natural colour, isn't it?”

Polly's palms felt damp. She hardly dared touch the cardigan, imagining sweaty handprints all over the delicate fabric. “It's not really … me, Eve,” she managed to say, gingerly hanging it back up again.

“Shame,” Eve sighed.

A phone buzzed in Eve's pocket.

Eve reached into her pocket and took out Polly's phone. She looked at the screen and tutted. “Ollie again.”

Polly reached for her phone. “Please, Eve, let me at least see it!” she said.

“Play it cool,” Eve instructed, pocketing the phone. “Remember?”

Polly gritted her teeth. “If you're going to keep my phone hostage, Eve, then at least let me take you to my kind of shop,” she said.

Eve grumbled but let Polly drag her back out on to Marine Parade again.

“Where were you thinking of?” she said.

“There's a great charity shop on Church Road,” said Polly.

Eve's face fell. “Second-hand clothes? You have to be kidding.”

Polly felt a little more in control now they'd left the cashmere shop. “My favourite vintage store's right next door. We'll do them both. Trust me, Eve. I know what I'm doing.”

How often has Eve said that to me in the past few days?
Polly wondered. It felt good to be dishing out the same medicine.

Eve stood uncertainly in the middle of the Happy Hospice shop as Polly rifled through the rails.

“It smells in here,” she complained. “Do you often shop in this place?”

“All the time. What do you think of this jumper?”

Polly held up a thickly knitted blue and white striped jumper. It would look fun over the pink button-down shirt she'd found the last time she'd come to the Happy Hospice. She could see that Eve was struggling for something nice to say.

“Come on then,” she said, relenting. She put the jumper back. “We'll try Truly Vintage next door.”

Truly Vintage had started as a market stall behind the high street. With the recent surge of interest in vintage clothing, it had moved to its current premises on Church Road. It was Polly's favourite shop in the whole of Heartside Bay.

“You have to admit, this is adorable,” Polly coaxed, lifting a little green sequinned blouse off the rail by the window and holding it up for Eve to admire.

“It's quite Gatsby, I suppose,” Eve said, tilting her head to one side.

Polly could hear buzzing sounds coming from Eve's pocket. One, two, three buzzes. Three texts on her phone. Were they all from Ollie?

“I don't think anyone's ever worn it. Try it on,” Polly said, pressing the Gatsby blouse into Eve's arms. “Go on, the changing room's lovely, really light and spacious. And you could try this too. And this.”

Polly pressed a grey jacket with military-inspired buttons and a black and gold art deco patterned skirt into Eve's hands. They were both a bit more quirky than Eve would have gone for on her own, but Polly could tell Eve was intrigued.

“Fine,” Eve sighed. She shrugged off her coat and handed it to Polly. “Hold on to this, will you?”

As soon as Eve swished the curtain shut, Polly took her phone out of Eve's coat pocket and checked her messages.

 

Still waiting for an answer

Can't wait until Friday

Meet me after football Mon?

STILL WAITING! xx

Polly wanted to sing with happiness. Didn't she deserve a little happiness? If she could just stop overthinking everything, maybe she and Ollie
could
work out. She stroked the kisses at the bottom of his fourth text, grinning foolishly to herself. If she was quick, she could answer before Eve came out of the changing room.

Mon after football sounds good.

Can't wait.

She hesitated. Was “can't wait” a bit needy? Should she add kisses?

“Are you ready?” Eve called from the changing room.

There was no more time. Polly swiftly tapped send and put the phone back as Eve pulled back the curtain.

The sequinned blouse looked gorgeous with Eve's hair, and the jacket fitted her slender shoulders perfectly. “I love these,” Eve confessed, stroking the jacket and blouse. “But the skirt isn't very me.”

Polly wondered if Eve could see the guilt on her face.
It's my life
, she reasoned
. Not Eve's. If I want to go out with Ollie, I can.

“Try the blouse and jacket with this instead,” she suggested, passing Eve a dark blue high-waisted skirt.

“Polly, you are clever,” Eve marvelled, checking her new reflection out in the mirror five minutes later. The skirt made her long legs look endless. “How did you know this would look so good? And it's so cheap!”

Polly blushed, feeling pleased. “I'm glad you like it. Now can we go back to the Happy Hospice? I'm still thinking about that striped jumper.”

It was past lunchtime when they emerged from the Happy Hospice. Polly had found a round-collared blouse that she decided would look even better with the striped jumper than the button-down.

“This has been the best shopping day ever,” Eve announced as they started walking home in the afternoon sunshine. “I hope your mum will like the scarf I bought for her. What's for tea, do you think?”

It's now or never,
Polly decided.

“Eve?” she said a little hesitantly. “You've been away from home for two days now. Don't you think maybe you should go back?”

Eve was silent. Polly ploughed on.

“Your mum was probably just a bit shocked by your news,” she said. “She's had two days to calm down. I'm sure it will be easier to talk to her now. And what about your dad? Don't you miss him?”

Eve's eyes filled with tears. “Of course I miss him. He's the only person at home who loves me for who I am.”

“Go home,” Polly said gently. “I'll come with you for moral support. We walk past the end of your road on the way back to mine anyway.”

Eve swallowed and nodded. “You're right,” she said. “I haven't even spoken to Daddy since I left on Friday. I have to go back, don't I?”

They reached Eve's sweeping driveway in five minutes. Two gleaming cars were parked outside the pillared portico of the house. Eve's house always freaked Polly out a little. It felt too big to be allowed.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Polly asked.

Eve shook her head. “I have to do this by myself. But thank you for everything, Polly. The bed, the vintage stuff. The friendship. I really appreciate it. I'll send Paolo round to pick up my stuff. Oh, and here's your phone.” She pressed Polly's phone into her hands. “Don't text Ollie until tomorrow at least,” she said sternly. “And give your mum that scarf from me, won't you?”

“Eve!”

Eve's father was hurrying out of the door, taking the steps at the front of the house two at a time. “Evie! You're back. I've been so worried!”

Polly backed away as Eve ran into her father's arms. She had no place being here. With her father's support through this, Eve would be fine, she knew. It was time to go home. Her room – and bathroom – were her own again. She felt giddy with happiness. Eve was back home, she would have her room to herself again … and she had a date with Ollie!