Page 18 of The Best Friend
Joe straightens up and turns back to face me. ‘Tyler and his mummy,’ Joe says, pulling a face.
God, what are they doing here? It must be to do with the invitations. Shit, I feel like crap, I look an absolute mess, and the house is in a state, too – I eye the chipped paintwork, the basket of wet washing at the bottom of the stairs, and notice that two of the bulbs in the ceiling light need replacing. This is just about the worst time for Darcy to show up. I know I need to talk to her but I don’t want to do it here and now.
‘Are we going to let them in?’ Joe asks.
‘Of course,’ I say brightly. ‘Of course we are.’ I turn the handle and pull open the front door.
‘Louisa!’ Darcy steps into the hallway in a cloud of Chanel and throws her arms around me, kissing both cheeks. Her hair is pulled back into a catwalk ponytail, and she’s wearing a stylish cream mac with a silk scarf at her throat.
Tyler sidles around us and stands next to Joe, neither boy saying a word.
‘Hi,’ I say, dragging my fingers through lank curls in an attempt to magically transform my dishevelled state. ‘Sorry, I look such a mess, I haven’t been feeling too good today.’
‘I heard,’ Darcy replies. ‘That’s why I’m here. I met Beth in the playground and she said you had food poisoning! Poor you. Was it from the restaurant last night? If it is, I shall go in there today and give them a piece of my mind.’
‘I think it was the salmon but please don’t worry. These things happen.’ My stomach gurgles embarrassingly. Darcy is too polite to comment. ‘Come into the kitchen,’ I say. ‘Can I make you some tea or coffee?’ I turn to my son: ‘Joe, why don’t you take Tyler upstairs to your room?’
Joe shakes his head and stands beside me, away from his friend.
Tyler scowls.
‘What’s going on with you two?’ Darcy asks.
Tyler shrugs while Joe looks down at the floor.
‘TV?’ I ask the boys.
Joe nods.
‘Okay, go and put a film on.’
Joe slouches into the lounge and I gesture to Tyler to follow him. Darcy raises her eyebrows and I tilt my head in the direction of the kitchen. She walks through with me.
‘I brought you round some goodies to cheer you up,’ she says, handing me a large gift bag.
I’m so taken aback by her kindness that I stand there in the kitchen doorway, my mouth hanging open.
‘Just some little things,’ she says. ‘Magazines, chick-flicks, soup, crackers and Alka Seltzer, ha ha.’
‘Thank you so much. That’s really thoughtful,’ I say as a tear escapes down my cheek.
‘Hey, are you okay?’ she asks.
I swipe at my tear, but more follow. ‘God, I’m so sorry.’
She gives me a hug, then stands back, points to a chair in the kitchen and says, ‘sit.’
I do as she asks.
‘You’re exhausted. I’m going to make you some noodle soup. It’ll be gentle on your stomach.’
‘No, no, that’s okay,’ I protest, feeling utterly wretched and useless.
‘Nonsense,’ she says. She removes her coat and hangs it on the back of a chair, lays her handbag on the table, plucks the gift bag out of my hand and delves inside, pulling out a slim packet of soup. ‘I’d rather make it fresh, but actually, these ready-made things are pretty good.’
I’m in too much of a state to protest further. Darcy hands me a tissue from her handbag and I wipe my eyes and blow my nose. ‘I’m so sorry for crying all over you,’ I say. ‘It’s been a crappy day.’
‘Stop apologising. Everyone’s entitled to have a bad day every once in a while. I know I do.’
