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I raised my eyebrows. ‘Does that mean what I think it means?’
‘Depends where your dirty mind’s going, young lady. It means “hugging” for your information.’
‘Oh, that makes sense. Probably where bear hug comes from.’
We chatted a bit more, but my luck ran out when our paninis arrived. I’d just bitten into my mozzarella, grilled veg, and sundried tomato when Eleanor looked at me. ‘So it seems that you’re raked fore and aft.’
‘What?’ I mumbled through my mouthful.
‘Desperately in love.’
I ducked my head from her enquiring gaze. ‘How do you know?’
‘Becca told me.’ I knew it! ‘Anna, I’m going to say something brutally honest. Do you think you can handle it?’
I chewed, nodded, and braced myself.
‘I know Jeremy’s ripe for a prigging, and I’d be lying if I said my madge doesn’t twang when he walks past. But you need to get over him and start dating someone else for your own sanity.’
My lips twitched. Eleanor had obviously been taking in some of the more lewd Victorian slang.
‘I don’t want anyone else,’ I said stubbornly. Who could compare?
‘You’re missing out waiting around for him. You could be feeling the sting of pleasure with someone who does want a relationship with you.’
‘Sting of pleasure?’
‘Now that does mean what you think it means.’ Eleanor waggled her eyebrows, and I laughed.
‘I’ve tried going out on the odd date, but it doesn’t make any difference. I don’t want to leave my job. So I’m stuck in this ... thing, whether I like it or not.’
Eleanor sighed. ‘Look, my cousin, Thomas, is a historical guide. You guys would get on well. He does the Saturday tour at the castle.’ She picked her phone off the table and tapped. Next minute, a number appeared in my notifications.
‘Oh no. Really, I can’t, Nor. Not your cousin.’
‘Just have a drink with him. He’s single, interesting to talk to, and, no thanks to my aunt’s husband, actually attractive.’
I looked at the number and was tempted to delete it, but Eleanor was watching me, steely-eyed.
‘OK, I’ll think about it,’ I conceded.
‘Good girl. But please, if you do join giblets with Thomas, I don’t want to hear about it.’
‘Indeed.’
She didn’t have to worry. I had no intention of joining giblets with her cousin in any way, shape, or form.
***
It seemed to be the day for unwanted advice and messages. When I got back from lunch, there was an email waiting for me from my mother. It was short, sweet, and to the point: an invite to stay at her flat in London Saturday week. Nothing out of the ordinary. But I knew there was a stinger: my sister and ex-boyfriend would be there.
This was the second time she’d pulled this stunt. She never said specifically that they would be, but there was an underlying current to the message that I could pick up on. I sensed the intent of it.
I’d nearly been caught out by the last invitation because I was stressed and thought a catch-up with my mother would be a nice way to unwind. Her three-bedroom flat in Bayswater was an Art Deco escape from reality, and I loved staying there, and sometimes she shouted me afternoon tea at the Park Lounge by Kensington Gardens on Sunday. But due to the terrible weather that weekend and train delays, it was impossible for me to get to London, so I’d had to cancel.
I’d seen her the week after, and she’d said nonchalantly that Beth and Ben had been round for dinner that night and were disappointed not to see me (ugh, their names made me grind my teeth just thinking about them). I said pointedly that they were hardly at the top of my favourite people list and told her to please not invite them round when I was there. She shook her head and replied, ‘Life’s too short to bear a grudge, Anna. You have to try to forgive Beth for your own sake.’
I said I was doing just fine without forgiving her. Then things got tense, and I left.
