have a few investments and a pension to manage,’ she added, and I was almost tempted to ask if she
wanted me to have a whip-round, but I wasn’t sure she’d see the funny side of that if she was already embarrassed about having
been given a flat – in pricey Canonbury.
The second thing I learned about Charley that put a crimp in my expectations was that she’d had surprisingly few long-term
relationships. She’d had the odd month-long fling here and there, of course, and a boyfriend while she’d been at university,
but for most of the last couple of years she’d used a basket when she’d gone to the supermarket instead of a trolley and spent
her Saturday mornings reading her Guardian rather than lying in his arms. She was, for want of a better expression, on the shelf, which was a lovely old expression that
my dad used to use about my sister before she met Cliff whenever he wanted to hear her scream. The question was, though, why
was Charley on the shelf?
Did she choose to go it alone or were her expectations so phenomenally high that Romeo himself would’ve had a job getting
her to come along on his plus-one invitations?
In which case, what the hell was I doing shopping on these shelves? I couldn’t afford any of this stuff. Of course I couldn’t. And
sooner or later the store detective was going to rumble me for the undesirable I was.
‘Penny for them,’ she said, when she saw me all pensive. I should’ve held out for more as I knew she could afford it but I
went ahead and took her money anyway.
‘Just wondering what a nice girl like you…’ I started, before she comically interrupted.
‘…is doing in a place like this?’ she suggested, though she would’ve been closer to the mark if she’d tacked on the words
‘with a bozo like you’.
‘No, I mean, why you’re not seeing anyone? Why you haven’t got anyone? I mean, you’re great. You’re pretty, funny, clever,
nice company. I can’t figure it out.’ (I could’ve also added ‘and fucking loaded’ but didn’t.)
‘I don’t know,’ Charley mused. ‘Maybe it’s because I’m a lesbian.’
‘See, you’ve even got that going for you too,’ I said, ticking the last box on my own particular card and calling bingo.
‘I could ask you the same,’ Charley pointed out.
‘Well, I ain’t gay, if that’s what you’re getting at.’
‘What happened to Jo? Your last girlfriend. Why did you split up with her?’
That caught me a little offguard. I’d forgotten Charley knew about Jo and I didn’t feel particularly comfortable talking about
old girlfriends with her. Still, the question had been asked so I told her the truth.
‘She did something that I didn’t like. Something I could never forgive her for.’
‘What?’ Charley asked, suddenly all ears.
‘She moved all of her stuff out of my place and married the manager of my local Safeways,’ I told her. ‘Of course, it’s Morrisons
these days, they took it over, but that doesn’t really have anything to do with the story.’
Charley gasped. ‘Is that true?’
‘Yeah, they’ve changed the signs and everything.’
‘No, I mean about Jo? She left you and married someone else?’
‘Yeah,’ I admitted and shrugged. Well, what else was there to do?
‘I’m sorry, Terry,’ Charley frowned. ‘Were you very upset?’
‘Not really. It had been on the cards for some time in all honesty. We weren’t really getting on and sometimes you can just
tell when a relationship’s run its course.’ I sighed.
Charley reached across the table and laid her hand on mine.
‘One thing did annoy me, though,’ I then confessed.
‘What was that?’
‘I can’t go to bloody Morrisons any more. I’ve got to drive another mile up the road to Sainsbury’s and they don’t do the
same spicy poppadoms I like.’
‘I feel your pain,’ Charley sympathised, and for one brief moment I almost forgot that I didn’t have a hope in hell of