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THREE
I wake up the next morning with sunlight dazzling my eyelids and a delicious smell of coffee
in the air.
'Morning!' comes Co
'Morning,' I mumble, without opening my eyes.
'D'you want some coffee?'
'Yes please.'
I turn over and bury my throbbing head in the pillow, trying to sink into sleep again for a
couple of minutes. Which normally I would find very easy. But today, something's niggling at
me. Have I forgotten something?
As I half listen to Co
the telly, my mind gropes blearily around for clues. It's Saturday morning. I'm in Co
We went out for supper — oh God, that awful plane ride… he came to the airport, and he said
…
We're moving in together!
I sit up, just as Co
robe and looks completely gorgeous. I feel a prickle of pride, and reach over to give him a
kiss.
'Hi,' he says, laughing. 'Careful.' He hands me my coffee. 'How are you feeling?'
'All right.' I push my hair back off my face. 'A bit groggy.'
'I'm not surprised.' Co
'Absolutely.' I nod, and take a sip of coffee. 'So. We're… going to live together!'
'If you're still on for it?'
'Of course! Of course I am!' I smile brightly.
And it's true. I am.
I feel as though overnight, I've turned into a grownup. I'm moving in with my boyfriend.
Finally my life is going the way it should!
'I'll have to give Andrew notice…' Co
which is his flatmate's room.
'And I'll have to tell Lissy and Jemima.'
'And we'll have to find the right place. And you'll have to promise to keep it tidy.' He gives
me a teasing grin.
'I like that!' I feign outrage. 'You're the one with fifty million CDs.'
'That's different!'
'How is it different, may I ask?' I plant my hand on my hip, like someone in a sitcom, and
Co
There's a pause, as though we've both run out of steam, and we take a sip of coffee.
'So anyway,' says Co
computers this weekend. 'I'm sorry I'll miss your parents,' he adds.
And he really is. I mean, as if he wasn't already the perfect boyfriend, he actually enjoys
visiting my parents.
'That's OK,' I say benevolently. 'It doesn't matter.'
'Oh, and I forgot to tell you.' Co
for?'
'Ooh!' I say excitedly. 'Um…'
I'm about to say 'Paris!'
'The jazz festival!' Co
Remember we heard them at Ro
For a moment I can't quite speak.
'Wow!' I manage at last. 'The… De
They played clarinets. On and on and on, for about two hours, without even taking a breath.
'I knew you'd be pleased.' Co
smile.
'Oh, I am!'
The thing is, I probably will get to like jazz one day. In fact, I'm positive I will.
I watch fondly as he gets dressed, flosses his teeth and picks up his briefcase.
'You wore my present,' he says with a pleased smile, glancing at my discarded underwear on
the floor.
'I… often wear them,' I say, crossing my fingers behind my back. 'They're so gorgeous!'
'Have a lovely day with your family.' Co
hesitates. 'Emma?'
'Yes?'
He sits down on the bed and gazes seriously at me. Gosh, his eyes are so blue.
'There's something I wanted to say.' He bites his lip. 'You know we always speak frankly to
each other about our relationship.'
'Er… yes,' I say, feeling a little apprehensive.
'This is just an idea. You may not like it. I mean… it's completely up to you.'
I gaze at Co
Oh my God. Is he going to start getting kinky? Does he want me to dress up in outfits and
stuff?
I wouldn't mind being a nurse, actually. Or Catwoman from Batman. That would be cool. I
could get some shiny boots…
'I was thinking that… perhaps… we could…' He stops awkwardly.
'Yes?' I put a supportive hand on his arm.
'We could…' He stops again.
'Yes?'
There's another silence. I almost can't breathe. What does he want us to do? What?
'We could start calling each other "darling",' he says in an embarrassed rush.
'What?' I say blankly.
'It's just that…' Co
commitment. And I noticed recently, we never seem to use any… terms of endearment.'
I stare at him, feeling caught out.
'Don't we?'
'No.'
'Oh.' I take a sip of coffee. Now I think about it, he's right. We don't. Why don't we?
'So what do you think? Only if you want to.'
'Absolutely!' I say quickly. 'I mean, you're right. Of course we should.' I clear my throat.
'Darling!'
'Thanks, darling,' he says, with a loving smile, and I smile back, trying to ignore the tiny
protests inside my head.
This doesn't feel right.
I don't feel like a darling.
Darling is a married person with pearls and a four-wheel-drive.
'Emma?' Co
'I'm not sure!' I give a self-conscious laugh. 'I just don't know if I feel like a "darling". But…
you know. It may grow on me.'
'Really? Well, we can use something else. What about "dear"?'
Dear? Is he serious?
'No,' I say quickly. 'I think "darling" is better.'
'Or "sweetheart"… "honey"… "angel"
'Maybe. Look, can we just leave it?'
Co
This is what growing up's all about. I'm just going to have to get used to it.
'Co
that flight.' I take his hand. 'Darling.'
'That's all right, darling.' He smiles back at me, his su
kiss. 'See you later.'
You see. Easy.
Oh God.
Anyway. It doesn't matter. I expect all couples have this kind of awkward-ish moment. It's
probably perfectly normal.
It takes me about half an hour to get from Co
where I live, and as I open the door I find Lissy on the sofa. She's surrounded by papers and
has a frown of concentration on her face. She works so hard, Lissy. She really overdoes it
sometimes.
'What are you working on?' I say sympathetically. 'Is it that fraud case?'
'No, it's this article,' says Lissy abstractly, and lifts up a glossy magazine. 'It says since the
days of Cleopatra, the proportions of beauty have been the same, and there's a way to work
out how beautiful you are, scientifically. You do all these measurements…'
'Oh right!' I say interestedly. 'So what are you?'
'I'm just working it out.' She frowns at the page again. 'That makes 53… subtract 20…
makes… Oh my God!' She stares at the page in dismay. 'I only got 33!'
'Out of what?'
'A hundred! 33 out of a hundred!'
'Oh Lissy. That's crap.'
'I know,' says Lissy seriously. 'I'm ugly. I knew it. You know, all my life I've kind of secretly
known, but-'
'No!' I say, trying not to laugh. 'I meant the magazine's crap! You can't measure beauty with