I head towards the restaurant, walking fast so my brain can’t convince my feet to head in the other direction, and walk into the restaurant behind another family. I scan the tables quickly, hoping to spot the Golds before attracting the attention of a friendly waitress and, thank God, there they are.
I dart round a waiter and scurry over to them, my heart kicking up a storm in my chest. As soon as I lock eyes with Rhys I will be OK. As soon as I sit down I will be OK.
Rhys sees me just as I reach the back of his father’s chair and his face breaks into a beam that sweeps my oncoming panic away. He is happy to see me. It is a good thing that I’m here. He stands as I approach and pulls out a chair for me. Hi!
Hi. I let him hug me, wondering if he can feel the pounding of my recovering heart. I smile at the table and actually manage an only slightly garbled ‘Hi!’ before throwing myself into the chair and reaching for the nearest menu.
‘Hi!’ The unfamiliar voice comes from my left, and I look over. ‘I’m Meg.’
Meg is pretty in a natural, elfin kind of way; her hair falls in long auburn waves and her face is a mass of freckles. She doesn’t seem to be wearing any make-up, and her smile when our eyes meet is warm and immediate.
‘Hi,’ I say.
‘It’s so nice to meet you,’ she says. Like Rhys’s family, she signs as well as speaking. I realize that my determination to not ask about Meg means I know nothing about their history or their friendship. How did they meet? How come she can speak such perfect BSL?
It doesn’t seem the time to ask these questions, though, so I smile back and sign that it’s nice to meet her too (I’m not entirely sure whether this is a lie) and then busy myself with the menu. Sandra, Rhys’s mother, asks me about the kennels and it’s a topic I am so comfortable with I talk freely. She is still thinking about adopting a dog, so I tell her about Lily, the three-legged beagle who arrived this week, and Scout, the collie cross who was left tied to the kennels’ front gate overnight, in the rain.
How’s Sally getting on? Rhys signs.
She’s good, I reply. She misses you.
See! Rhys swings round to make a face at his mother. I told you! Adopt Sally. She’s so cute.
‘The dog is for me, not you,’ Sandra says, laughing. ‘And I want to adopt a needy dog. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of people willing to take on a cute Labrador puppy.’ She smiles at me. ‘Maybe I could come and visit the kennels and meet Lily.’
‘I work on Wednesdays and Saturdays,’ I offer. ‘If you visit on those days, I can show you around.’
As Sandra nods and the waiter arrives to take our order, I make a mental note to tell my therapist about this when I next see her. I made plans! I offered to show an almost-stranger around the kennels! How’s that for progress?
Meg turns out to be friendly and chatty – basically my total opposite – which is both a blessing and a curse. Chatty people are great to have a conversation with if you’re shy, because they fill your silences without making you feel awkward about it – it’s one of the reasons Tem and I gel so well. But the flipside is that it means Rhys is at the very least very close to a girl who is my total opposite in the most important way. Not only can she talk, she talks A LOT. And she speaks word-perfect BSL. What hope is there for me?
Not that I want there to be hope. Or do I? To be honest, I’m losing track a little.
We’ve just finished eating the main course when Meg stands up, pushing her chair back. ‘I’m going to the bathroom,’ she announces. ‘Can you come with me, Steffi?’
I freeze. This is it. The friendliness is all an act and she’s going to murder me in the toilets for encroaching on her turf.
Why? Rhys asks, looking baffled.
‘Girls always go in pairs,’ Meg explains. She eyes me significantly. ‘Steffi?’
Unfortunately, I can’t think of a single reason why I would refuse to go with her, so I inch back my chair and follow her silently through the restaurant and through the door marked LADIES.
‘So I wanted to talk to you,’ Meg says, the moment the door closes. She hops up on to the counter and grins at me. ‘And this seemed like the best place.’ She clasps her hands together and brings them up to her chin. There’s something endearingly childlike about her, I think.
‘OK,’ I say. The two syllables are about all I can manage at that moment, trapped in a small space with this sunny chatterbox, but she doesn’t seem to mind or even notice.
‘Rhys,’ she says emphatically, pointing at me. ‘Specifically, you and Rhys. And Rhys and me. You and Rhys and me.’ This girl doesn’t just talk, she talks fast, yet still with conviction, as if she’s totally convinced by every word she says, and you should be too.
I just nod. She doesn’t seem like she’s about to start yelling at me for encroaching on her boyfriend, but then again you never know.
‘You know we’re not together, right? Me and Rhys? Totally not a thing.’
I don’t know what my face does when she says these words, but, whatever it is, it must be obvious that this is really something I don’t know, because she makes a noise that is half delight, half frustration.