Page 48 of Stella is Starting Over

‘What are you making?’ Louella asks, sitting on my kitchen sofa, cross-legged. She sniffs the air appreciatively.

‘Roast chicken,’ I say.

‘Oh my god, divine,’ she says, lying back. ‘That is my favourite news. Remember before you had a baby and your life blew up, and you used to make us amazing food all the time?’

‘Yes,’ I say, hunting through drawers for a potato peeler. ‘That must have been really hard for you.’

‘Thank you!’ she says with enthusiasm. ‘People were really focused on you and the baby, and there was very little support for me.’

I laugh. ‘Okay, so some things you should know about Richard,’ I start. ‘He’s—’

‘Really rich,’ Luella interjects.

‘Yes,’ I agree. ‘He’s really rich, but also he’s quite a gentle soul. Like, slow burn, more of a listener than a talker—’

‘Rich man who doesn’t talk much? Absolutely ideal,’ says my mother, coming in from the garden where she’s been smoking and sulking because I won’t let her smoke in the house. She hadn’t initially been invited to dinner, but she’s staying with Louella this week while she has some repair work done on her own flat (because Louella has time to procure fresh flowers for the spare room and no screaming 6:30 a.m. wake-up call) and she got wind of it. So now, rather than a casual evening where Richard meets Louella over a glass of wine, he’s meeting my mother and my sister.

‘Mum,’ I say. ‘Please, please don’t say things like that in front of him.’

She rolls her eyes. ‘I won’t, obviously. Is your father not joining?’

I shake my head, wanting to point out that I didn’t invite him this evening in much the same way that I didn’t actually invite her. ‘He’s got a parish council meeting.’

‘They have those every fifteen minutes,’ my mother says, shaking her head. ‘Surely he could have missed it. He should want to meet your partner.’

‘He’s not my partner,’ I almost whimper, the word landing horribly hard. ‘He’s someone I’m dating. We haven’t even—’ I stop myself before I tell my mum that Richard and I haven’t had sex yet, because that’s the kind of thing she’s liable to bring up over dinner. ‘He’s someone I’m dating, and that’s it. Okay?’

‘Well, he should want to meet someone you’re dating,’ Mum insists, refilling her wine glass.

‘He’s driving Lisa from down the road,’ Louella says archly. We both know that Dad is shagging Lisa (or whatever slightly religious people in their sixties do when they’re dating). Mum is in denial about this.

‘He’s such a pillar of the community,’ she says grandly. ‘She’s very lucky to have him. Honestly, living in that village in the middle of nowhere and not being able to drive, it’s utter madness, I’d go mad. But then I need more social and cultural stimulation than someone like Lisa.’ She says the name like it’s a skin disease and the doorbell goes before Louella can fire any more shots, much to my relief.

‘Hello,’ I say, looking up at Richard. He’s tanned and handsome in a white T-shirt and chinos, and he’s carrying four bunches of flowers.

‘That’s a lot of flowers,’ I say. ‘Did you take them off a lamp post?’

He looks confused. ‘They’re for your mother and your sister,’ he explains.

We reach the kitchen and Lou and my mother are obviously in raptures over this. ‘These are for you,’ he says, handing Louella a bunch of peonies. ‘Your sister mentioned that you like them.’

Louella is literally blushing, which I’ve never seen her do before.

‘And these are for you,’ he says, handing Mum a bunch of white roses. ‘I thought you might like a classic.’

‘I always like a classic,’ says Mum in an insanely saucy voice that I never want to hear again. ‘These are yours.’ He smiles, passing me a bunch of tulips, which admittedly I do love.

‘Who are those for?’ Louella asks, pointing at a bunch of tiny tea roses.

‘Ah.’ Richard looks bashful. ‘Probably silly, but they’re for Rose. I didn’t want to leave her out.’

‘That’s incredibly sweet of you,’ I say, feeling a smile spread across my face. ‘Thank you.’

‘You should give them to her,’ Louella says. ‘We can get her up? Right?’

‘No,’ I say, flatly. ‘She’s only just gone down.’

‘She probably isn’t asleep yet,’ Mum ventures.