The End!

‘But stronger and wiser people don’t bore their friends for weeks on end about men they supposedly hate.’

I took a contemplative chomp of tuna baguette.  It was teatime in Lloyds Café once again, only this time the girls and I wore jumpers, tinsel daubed every shelf and beam, and a Christmas tree was twinkling in the corner.

‘Bore their friends?’

Nadine and Heather nodded in emphatic unison.

‘Zo, we love you very much,’ Nadine said in cruel-to-be-kind tones, ‘but you’ve been banging on about Karl for four months now.  “Should I ring him, should I not?  He’s a lying, cheesy shit-bag, I’ll never speak to him again.  Oh, but maybe I ought to give him the benefit of the doubt.  No, I’m over him!”  Well me and Heather have decided enough’s enough.’

‘You’re not really over him at all, are you?’ Heather probed kindly.

‘Yes!’

‘Then why have we heard nothing but Karl this, Karl that, since the middle of August?  August, Zo!  The trees had leaves when you went for that meal with Karl.  If you truly weren’t interested in him, you’d have forgotten all about that night and moved on.  You haven’t so much as batted a lash at a guy since.’

‘You’re lovesick.’

‘I’m not!’

‘You told us you were going to throw his number away too – but I bet you haven’t!’

‘To tell you the truth,’ I sighed, ‘it’s been burning a hole in my purse all this time.’

‘Ring it then!’ Nadine said through gritted teeth.

‘It’s probably too late.’  I tossed a shard of lettuce into my mouth and aggressively bit it, taking out my frustration upon the innocent vegetable.  ‘I expect he’s found someone else by now.  He’s most likely fallen for some green welly-wearing dog-owner who took her Labrador in with distemper, or something.’

‘I doubt it somehow.  Look at all the trouble he went to just to get an evening alone with you – concocting that fantastic story about a school reunion.  No bloke has ever gone to those lengths for me.’

‘Well it just shows what a skilled deceiver he is then, doesn’t it?’ I retorted mulishly.  ‘How could I ever live with somebody who made a habit of lying like that?’

‘Got an answer for everything, haven’t you, dear?’ Nadine snapped exasperatedly.  ‘Nobody mentioned living together.  Not yet anyway.  Just have a few dates, enjoy yourself, have some fun getting to know him all over again.  Then if he really does turn out to be a shit, you dump him.  What will you have lost?’

‘Oh nothing – apart from my self-respect, dignity, self-esteem – ’

‘Pants!  Look, babe, you only get one life.  It’s Christmas next week too.  Here’s your chance to grab yourself a love-god mistletoe partner.  Go home tonight, dial that number, give yourself – and us – the best gift imaginable.’

‘I’ll drink to that,’ Heather chimed in.

‘Will you do it, Zo?’ persisted Nadine, pouting.  ‘For yourself, for Karl, and for us, your bestest friends?  Put everyone out of their misery?’

I closed my eyes and grinned, defeated but secretly rather glad to be.  Nadine could be a real torturer when she wanted.  But she was also right.  We do only get one life, and I was chickening mine away making excuses not to contact the guy who – despite my ‘he’s history’ façade, which was failing to convince even me – had meant more to me than any other.

‘I’ll do it.’

‘Yessss!’  Nadine lofted her glass triumphantly.  ‘Let’s have a toast – to Zoe and Karl!’

‘Zoe and Karl!’

‘May they forever have wonderful sex!’

I wasn’t feeling too sexy at eight o’clock that night, huddled sock-clad on my sofa with two sources of anxiety – namely Jerry’s head and the cordless phone – cradled in my lap.  Jerry had been poorly and listless of late.  I twiddled his black ear tenderly with one hand and snatched up the phone with the other.  ‘Here goes, mate.’

My fingers were so clammy and wobbly, I misdialled several times before keying in the number on Karl’s Post-It.

‘Hello,’ answered a cheery-voiced woman.

I felt as though I had been thrashed in the chest.  A woman!  So I was too late after all.  He had finally given up on me, found somebody infinitely better and moved her into his cat-filled love kennel already.  Well I guess I could hardly blame him.  I had a hateful vision of a gargantuan-boobed rustic stunner speaking on the phone whilst a distemper-ridden Labrador yapped at her wellied feet.

‘Hello?’

‘Sorry.  Is – er – Karl Corbett there, please?’

‘Karl Corbett?  Karl Corb – ah no, he don’t live here no more, love.  He’s the young chap we’ve just bought the house off.’

‘B-bought the house off?’

Relief that this lady was not Karl’s glamourpuss lover after all was immediately swallowed by panic that he had moved.

‘Ar, we moved in three weeks ago.  Nice young man he was – a vet, you know.  He put the place up for sale ’cos he’d got a job at a new surgery, or whatever they call ’em.’

‘Actually, I remember him mentioning it now.’  I did as well.  He was in line for a partnership, he’d said.  So why hadn’t I quizzed him about it, congratulated him, let him talk?  Why did I have to butt in and dredge up some inane memory about being scared of Rolf Harris?  Rolf bloody Harris!

Zoe, you self-centred cow, why for once in your life can you not take an iota of interest in people instead of interrupting them? 

‘I don’t suppose you have a forwarding address or number for him, do you?’  I crossed my fingers so hard it’s a wonder they didn’t stick in that position.

‘Sorry, love, I don’t.  I probably should have taken one now, thinkin’ about it, but at the time, what with all the rush of moving and Christmas and everything, it just slipped me mind.’

‘Oh, OK.  Thanks for your time anyway.’

I squeezed my teary eyes shut and emitted a howl of animal pain.  Then I bashed myself on the head with the phone.  It hurt – well it would really – but no more than I deserved.

‘Oh Jerry, he’s gone!  I’ve lost him for good, and it’s all my fault.  This is my punishment for being such an indecisive prat.  He could be anywhere now.  He never told me where he was moving to – he could be in Devon or Edinburgh for all I know.  Owww!  If I’d swallowed my pathetic pride and rung him a few days after our meal, we could be going steady again now, we could be planning a nice intimate Christmas together.  Instead, I’m stuck in all alone with you – oh, but no offence, my little poppet!’

Then I had a brilliant thought.  If I were a cartoon character, a light bulb would have pinged on above my head.

‘I’ve still got his e-mail address!  Yes, yes, yes!  That’s how we got back in touch in the first place.  He’ll have the same computer, he’s bound to have kept the same address.’  I gently levered the cat off my lap and into my warm cushion hollow.  ‘You just sit there, Jezza me old pal, I’m off to the computer.  I won’t be long – I’ve just got a very important message to send!’

‘Mail delivery failed,’ I read dejectedly in my inbox next day.  The impromptu little ‘love e-mail’ to which I hoped to have a nice reply by now had been unceremoniously returned.  ‘Your message could not be sent.  Oh pissing hell!  He must have changed his address after all.  Probably to escape me.  Not that I can blame him, though.  I bet he’s changed his mind about wanting to see me again, and decided to make himself untraceable.’

Jerry padded in, brushing his feathery tail against my legs in an ‘I want my mommy’ gesture.  I picked him up for a hug, and he sneezed.

‘Ooh, bless you.  That’s it then, Jerry, I’ve lost him for good.  I had a second chance with him and I blew it.  At least I’ve still got you.  You still love me don’t you, boy?’  I was shocked at what a lonely statement that sounded.

I noticed Jerry’s eyes were streaming, like mine.  It took me a second or two to twig that cats don’t cry.

‘What’s wrong with you, little buddy?’

‘Well that was truly bostin.’  Dad patted his tummy with satisfaction and lolled in his chair, still wearing the skew-whiff paper party crown from his cracker of the day before.  ‘You sure know how to fry up a decent chip, our Zo.’

It was Boxing Day.  My parents were staying as it was my turn to play hostess – a role I relish as I love the festive rigmarole of cooking Christmas dinners then dishing up the mountainous leftovers with chips or in curries and sarnies.  In fact, swotty and housewifey as this might sound, it was one of the first things I couldn’t wait to do when Neil and I acquired the flat in 1999.

Ah, Neil!

He sent a Christmas card, bless him, wishing me all the best, saying he’d recently met someone who could become very special and hoped I had also.  (Well I’d met him all right – I’d just been a dozy tart and allowed him to slip through my fingers.  Again.)

‘This time last year, I was still with you – just about,’ I’d whispered to myself, smiling poignantly at Neil’s familiar writing.  ‘You meant so much to me once – now you’re little more than a polite stranger.  It’s a funny old thing, life.  Still, at least we can communicate civilly these days.  And at least we know splitting up was absolutely the right thing to do.  ’Cos you weren’t the love of my life after all, Neily-babes!’

And then I remembered who was and started to bawl again.

So it was my first ‘single’ Crimbo for several years, and although having Mom and Dad was all lovely and fun and cosy, there was an underlying lonely pang.  Amid the cracker-pulling and gluttony, I had to force myself not to think about Karl, not to wonder what he was doing every minute of the festive season – and, more to the point, with whom he was doing it. 

But at present I had more pressing worries.

‘Is Jerry OK?’ Mom asked, stroking the listless cat.  ‘He looks a bit peaky to me, and I’ve noticed he hasn’t been eating very much.’

‘I don’t know, Mom.  He hasn’t been himself for about a week now, and I’ve been ever so worried about him.  He’s sneezy as well, and his little eyes are all sticky and streamy.  Do you think it’s worth calling the vet, or should I wait until after Christmas?’

‘I wouldn’t leave it any longer if he’s been bad that long.  This might be a sign of something more serious.  He might have the flu, or an infection or something.  I’d get him down the vet’s.’

‘I don’t like to bother them on Boxing Day, though.’

‘It can’t be helped – poor Jerry didn’t choose to be ill.  It’s better to be safe than sorry, love.  There’ll have someone on duty.  It’s what they’re paid for after all.’

‘The locum’ll see him at half-six.’  I rejoined my parents in the kitchen after calling the out-of-hours line.  ‘I’d better get my skates on.  Come on, Jerry, there’s a good boy.’

I hoisted him into his basket.  He usually scampered off at the sight of this unprepossessing pen, which he recognised as his transport to one of two destinations: vet or cattery – but today he was languid and compliant.  A sure sign he was sickening for something.

‘Want me to come with you?’

‘No thanks, Mom, I should be all right.  I won’t be long.’

‘Take your time, bab, and drive safe.  Me and your dad’ll wash up.’

It was a short but tense drive with those ‘why didn’t you take me to the doctors sooner, Mommy?’ eyes reproaching me through the basket bars on the passenger seat.

His little face looked so adorable and vulnerable as to break your heart.  Alone with Jerry like this, away from the festivities, it hit me how grave this situation might turn.  What if I was too late?  How would I ever sleep again, knowing I’d allowed my kitty to die because I was too preoccupied with mooning over ex-boyfriends to notice that he was seriously sick?

As I pulled up in the dim car park, I felt the tears slopping.  What is it with pets that makes them so much easier to unashamedly grieve for than humans?  Jerry was my friend, and the closest thing I had – and was likely to have for the imminent future – to a live-in companion, and if he went I’d be only marginally more bereaved than I was over Granny’s death.  Karl had been my rock through that period.  How I wished he was there to hold me now.

He could have been, I chided for the zillionth time, if only you’d let him.

It was then that, through all this grief and torment, I actually had a surreal premonition/fantasy about Karl being the very veterinary who was about to examine Jerry.

Well it could happen!  There was a slimmer-than-winning-the-Lottery chance that this, of all the animal hospitals in the developed world, might be the one in which he was now a partner.

Come to think of it, that guy’s voice had sounded faintly familiar on the phone, though I’d been too agitated to concentrate and place it.  He hesitated too, he definitely had, when he double-checked my name – ‘Miss Taylor, you say?’ – only fractionally but noticeably.

‘You’ve really lost it this time, Zo,’ I chided, out loud this time.  ‘You’re not in Love Actually – this is real life!  You know, Real Life – that thing you are very rapidly losing your grip on!  You’re just hallucinating and hearing things you want to hear because you’d desperately love for Karl to be the knight in shining armour who saves Jerry’s life then sweeps you into his arms for a quick one on his operating table!  And you’re talking to yourself again – that’s the number one sign of madness, you know!  Come on, girl, get a grip.’

I slipped my belt off and walked – none too steadily – round to the passenger door to fetch Jerry.

‘Mind you, it’s funny – that guy coming to the door now actually looks a bit like Kar…oh, stop it, stop it!  It isn’t him.  It is not –

‘Bloody hell – it is him!’

My insides gave a violent lurch as though they were trying to escape through the skin.  In my head, my brain was attempting exactly the same feat.  A cold halo enveloped me.

There he definitely was: large as life and twice as gorgeous, silhouetted by the glaring clinical light behind him, looking all authoritative and kindly in his crisp white coat.

I sagged woozily against the car door.  The world started to swim – and I’d only had half a glass at dinner.

‘Miss Tayl – Zo?’

‘We have to stop meeting like this,’ I muttered, and promptly fainted.

‘In a nutshell,’ explained Karl, sweeping all efficiently into the waiting room where he’d deposited me ten minutes before with a mug of scaldingingly sugary tea, ‘what Jerry has is a cold.  I’m going to give you a course of antibiotics to dose him up with.  If you make sure he gets plenty of liquids, rest and food as well, the little feller’ll be just fine,’ he added in his best Rolf Harris accent.

He placed Jerry, all basketed up again ready for home, on the padded seat next to me.  It might have been my imagination, but my feline friend seemed to look better already.  In fact, I would swear he was smiling, in a knowing, witch’s cat kind of way.

‘I’m so glad,’ I fluttered.  ‘I can’t thank you enough, Karl.  I bet you think I’m hysterical and overprotective, don’t you?  I’m so sorry for dragging you out on Boxing Day.  I didn’t make your dinner go cold, did I?’

‘What – make my cold turkey go even colder, you mean?  Don’t be saft.  It’s my job.  Anyway, I’ve got my lovely sister staying with me at the moment, and she’s offered to get dinner ready tonight seeing as I’m on call.  You were right to be cautious.  Jerry’s condition isn’t serious now, but it might have become so if you’d left it to develop much longer.  Right now it’s your state of health I’m more worried about, me flower.  You’re as pale as a ghost.’

‘You must think I’m dead soppy, fainting like that.  It’s hardly surprising though, is it?  I mean, I didn’t exactly expect to turn up at the vet’s I’ve been using for the last three years and find you working here!’

I did, though, didn’t I?  I couldn’t explain how, but sitting in the car then, I had just known.  I decided against telling Karl about my spooky promotion yet.  He might find it just a touch too weird.

‘Well I suppose I should have told you there was a chance I’d be relocating to your neck of the woods.  But when we met that night in the summer, this partnership thing was still a bit up in the air.  I had no idea when it was likely to go through – or even if it would at all.  I didn’t feel I could say too much – I guess I was wary of tempting Fate.  It was all a bit of a rushed job in the end: changing firms and then having to find a house and then attempting to get sorted for Crimbo.  That’s why I’ve not been in touch.  One of the reasons anyway,’ he added with a sheepish smile.  ‘I’ve been up to my eyes in it.

‘Then when this mysterious Miss Taylor phoned this evening, I had this tiny, tiny inkling it might be you.  But I kept telling myself I was being insane – it’s not the most unusual name in the world after all – and that I was just wishful thinking.  I was desperate to see if it really was you – that’s why I made you an appointment at such short notice.  Then when you turned up here – well, what can I say?  You made my year!’

‘Did I?’ I stammered pathetically.

‘You did.  Despite the fact – and please don’t take this the wrong way – that I’ve spent the last few weeks trying very hard to forget you.  For the first two months after that night at the Brewers Wharf, I must admit I sat in most nights waiting for the phone to ring like a soppy old puppy.  I thought about sending you a Christmas card.  I know I don’t have your address, but I was going to post it to your work – everyone knows where Tunney’s is after all – but I got the impression from the way we parted in August that it wouldn’t go down too well.  I thought you’d probably rip my card up.  I didn’t want to look like a pest – or be disappointed again, I guess.

‘I ended up having to give myself a stern lecture.  I said: “Karl, me old mate, her ain’t gunna ring yer.  If the girl was interested in you, she’d have called by now.  Quit living in dreamland.  You and Zoe just obviously ain’t meant to be.”  But I’m afraid to say it didn’t work.’  He looked me levelly in the eye.  I had long admired that way he had of turning all frank and earnest in the middle of a droll spiel.  ‘I still haven’t met anyone else.’

‘Nor me.’  Joy and hope gurgled up through me like Jacuzzi bubbles.  ‘Karl, you’re not going to believe this, but I actually did ring you.’

Bewilderment clouded his gorgeous face.

‘Did you?  When?’

‘Only last week!’ I giggled deliriously.  ‘I spoke to the lady who’s bought your old house in Halesowen and she told me you’d taken up this new post.  I couldn’t believe my bad luck.  Then I tried to send you an e-mail, but it came back with an error message.  I was gutted, and kicking myself for being too late.’

‘There’s a good reason for my e-mail address being out of action – my computer’s still packed up in a box!  What with the flurry of moving house, and settling in here, and me generally being a disorganised sod, I haven’t had time to unpack and plug it…hang on – ’  He leaned urgently towards me.  His eyes and lips held a thousand questions he hardly dared form.  ‘What did you mean just then, you thought you were too late?  And why were you gutted?’ 

I bounced towards him in my seat, sending splats of tea all over the glossily antiseptic floor.  ‘I’ve changed my mind, Karl.  Well, not really changed it at all actually.  What I mean is, I’ve always felt the same way as you.  When we met again on that night, it was as though we’d never been apart.  And when you told me you’d never stopped loving me – well!  I was walking on the clouds.  I was desperate for you to ask me out, but at the same time too obstinate to actually say yes.  I was too scared as well.  I wasn’t in a hurry to get my heart broken again.’

He grasped my free hand and impetuously kissed it.  ‘I won’t break your heart, Zo.  Not this time.  I ballsed up too many times in the past.  But am I hearing you right – you really want to try again?’

I nodded gormlessly.  Now I’d said my piece, I was suddenly too gurgly and emotional for speech.

‘Then kiss me, you gorgeous thing!’

What can I say except he was even better than I remembered!  Maturity and practice had made his technique gentler and more giving.  This was no longer the impatiently licky frenchie of an experimental teenager.  When actions spoke this loudly, words were redundant.

‘I don’t think poor Jerry ought to be witnessing this,’ he whispered when we parted for oxygen about eighty hours later.  ‘He is a minor after all!  Perhaps we should cover his eyes up.’

An incongruous vision came from nowhere of Nadine toasting me with a Bacardi Breezer and making some bawdily corny pun about how after all these years I must be elated that Karl had finally examined my pussy.  I heard her strident, innuendo-filled tones in my head and started to giggle.

‘What are you laughing at?’

‘Just all this.  You know – you, me, life, irony, us, being reunited, losing touch again, meeting up tonight like this.  I don’t know about you, but I’m still in a state of shock.  I’ll have you know I don’t normally receive this kind of treatment from my vet!’

‘And I don’t administer it to all my animal-owners!’

‘I’m very glad to hear it.  It’s funny when you think about it – right the way through my life, you’ve been this kind of Superman figure who’s saved the day.  You fought off Darren Fisher for me when we were ten, then you grassed up Tina Skidmarks for bullying me, you unwittingly saved me from getting deeper involved with that vile Ben I used to go out with, looked after me when Granny Danks passed away – and now you’re curing my little kitty!’

‘Superman, eh?’  He pulled a mock dubious face.  ‘I’ve certainly never been called that before.  Does this mean I’ve got to start wearing tights – and underpants as outerpants?’

‘You could try – they might suit you!’  Then I noted the advancing time on my watch and said regretfully: ‘I’d best be getting home soon, else Mom and Dad’ll be fretting.  Makes me sound fourteen, doesn’t it?  They’re staying with me, you see.’  I locked gazes with him added pointedly: ‘But they’ll be gone by tomorrow.’

Karl returned my look with understanding.  ‘I’ve got Faye and John and the kids at mine tonight – but they’ll be gone tomorrow too.  I’ll be off duty by then as well.’

‘How convenient.’  I made provocative Vs with my eyebrows.

‘So I guess this is where I get to ask the tacky question: Your place or mine?’

‘Well I can’t really go out – I’ve got a sick puss– I mean, moggie, to administer medication to.  And I’ve got tonnes of turkey curry waiting to be eaten up.’

‘I’d have put money on that.  Anyway, didn’t I say that I was dying to sample some of your culinary delights?  You do realise it’s almost a decade since you last cooked for me?’

‘Got some catching up to do then, haven’t I?’

‘Not half.’

‘My place it is then.  Bring a bottle.  And your toothbrush.’

‘You brash hussy, you!’

‘I got to wear my ra-ra after all then,’ I said to Nadine six months later as I poured her a vase-sized glass of wine in my new kitchen.

‘I knew it would come in one day.  Great housewarming, by the way.’

‘I thought you might appreciate the fancy dress theme.’  She was togged up Boy George-style in a black hat, brads and geisha make-up.  As usual, she looked fantastic.

‘Gorgeous cottage too.  You’ve really landed on your feet here, kid.  Your Karl’s a poppet, isn’t he?  Smitten with you, that’s obvious.  Smitten as a kitten.  Heather seems to be doing OK with his mate too.’  She nodded over to where Heather, AKA Toyah tonight, was being enthusiastically chatted up by Karl’s Don Johnson-jacketed fellow vet, Dominic.  ‘Talking about kittens, Jerry looks very contented in his new home.’ 

I looked fondly over at where he and his new sister, Dog the tabby, were cuddled foetally on a chair in the lovely big, beam-striped kitchen.  This, predictably, was my favourite room in the ducky Staffordshire cottage that for the last month had been my home.

‘It’s amazing to think that if Jerry hadn’t been poorly on Boxing Night, and Karl hadn’t been on duty, we’d never have met up again.’

‘I think that’s what’s known as Fate.  The pair of you were destined to end up together, one way or another.  Only this time around, Fate had a little bit of four-legged assistance too.’

‘Mmm, and look at us now!’

Karl had first asked me to move in on my birthday, eight weeks after our Boxing Night chance appointment.  I said no initially – a reaction borne out of cowardice and caution – even though the thought of sleeping and eating à deux every day, and of his being the first face I saw each morning, was sorely exquisite.  Even though I was aching to yell ‘Yes, yes, yes!’ and leap dramatically into his arms.  Even though I’d fallen in love with his home, and it was only a ten-minute walk from my work (I’d always been a practical girl).  Even though I simply had this gut feeling that moving in together could be the best thing he and I had ever done. 

‘Is it because I behaved like such a wally before?’ he asked with a rueful expression.  ‘You still don’t trust me?’

‘No, no, Karl.  I do trust you.’  I was speaking truthfully here.  Karl had been quite right when he said he’d changed.  ‘And I’d love to live with you.  Eventually.  I’m just – I dunno – scared our relationship might peak too early if we take such a big step so soon.  Once the honeymoon period is over, we might get tired of one another quickly.’

‘Speaking for myself, I can say I never will.  I want to still be loving you when we’re dribbling into our incontinence pants and hobbling about in zip-up tartan bootees.’

‘You say that now, but you might go off me once you’ve seen me without make-up, wiping the bog round, or putting the bins out.’

His weary but still boyish face looked wounded by this.

‘Zo, we’ve known each another a lifetime.  Don’t you think I’ve had long enough to make my mind up about you?  You’ll always be beautiful to me.  Bloody hell, I’ve seen you in PE knickers.’

‘I might still have them somewhere, if you’d like to see me in them again!’

‘Kinky!’

‘Seriously, though, I’m just a bit wary.  My first stab at cohabitation wasn’t exactly a raging success after all.  Can you give me a bit of time to get my head round the idea?’

‘Of course.  I can see why you’re a bit hesitant.  I won’t mention it again – just have a little think, then let me know when you’re ready.’

Oh, but I was ready all right!  I was cautious only because I told myself to be; deep inside, I had never been so elated about anything in my life.

Karl, true to his word, placed no duress on me, and in the consequent weeks we made gradual steps towards permanent cohabitation.  The process began with me keeping a toothbrush in each of my ‘homes,’ and I progressed to hanging more and more of my clothes in Karl’s spare wardrobe, stacking my books on the bedside table and filling his sparsely manly bathroom cupboard with my copious cosmetic products. 

This went on until April when, in a ‘Sod it!’ fit, I said yes to Karl’s invitation and placed my maisonette on the market. 

‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ he asked, childlike with delight.  ‘You’re not just saying yes to please me?’

‘Nope!  This is going to work – I can feel it!’

Two months on, the sale of my flat to an eager pair of first-time buyers who reminded me of Neil and myself five years ago had just gone through, and my instincts about living with Karl were – thus far – proving trustworthy. 

Even if he wasn’t averse to smearing on make-up to become Adam Ant for fancy dress purposes.

‘I might have known I’d find you two ladies here amongst the booze and crisps,’ he said now, swishing into the kitchen in his cape and pirate hat.  ‘I’ve just come to get Mom another Cinzano.  She’s well away, catching up on all the goss with your mom, Zo.’

I peeped through to the lounge, where my mother (Krystle Carrington) and Avril (Supergran) were blethering away, in between foamy spoonfuls of Avril’s homemade strawberry cream gateau.

‘Hey, your music’s stopped,’ said Nadine, excusing herself, ‘mind if I go and pop a new CD on?’

‘No, go ahead.’

Karl lobbed a peanut into his mouth and, chomping it, grinned adorably at me.

‘Still liking your new home, ra-ra?’

I crossed the floor and slithered my hands around his knickerbocker’d waist.

‘Loving it, Adam.’

‘No regrets?’

‘Nope.’

He popped a kiss on to the top of my nose.

‘I’m really enjoying tonight.  We ought to have parties more often.’  He smiled naughtily and backed away, second-guessing my reaction to his forthcoming joke.  ‘You know, I’m thinking about organising a school reunion…’

‘Don’t even think about it!’ I giggled, pelting him with crisps.  He laughed, dodging the low flying ready salted.

Living with Karl was going to be fun.