Zara Stoneley - Bridesmaids

‘Ooh, you’re a little tough nut, aren’t you?’ He tickles its tummy and it flops back, all languid and blissful. Feet in the air, and I’m a tiny bit jealous. ‘Aww, so gorgeous, are we keeping them?’

‘No, we’re not! I’m taking photo’s for Coral’s Instagram page, and said I’d do a few for promo for the rescue centre.’

‘We should rescue one! A house is not a home …’

‘Well, you can clean the litter tray!’

‘Really?’

I groan. ‘You’re being serious, aren’t you? You want a kitten! Gawd, you’re as bad as Rach.’

‘Maybe.’ He tickles the kitten under its chin, and the purring starts up again. ‘Look, the perfect picture.’

‘Cute, but your finger is in the way, and I’m not sure the ripped jeans make the perfect backdrop.’

Freddie’s jeans are not ripped in a designer way, they’re ripped in a ‘we’ve been through a lot together and I can’t bear to part with them and they’re very comfy’ way.

It’s not Coral’s way. Coral doesn’t do comfy. Coral would sue me if I posted anything resembling un-touched-up reality on her Insta feed.

And I’m not convinced it will help with re-homing the kittens.

‘I could put a blanket on my knee?’ He pulls the throw off the sofa.

‘It’s a bit up and down, they’re only tiny. You can’t see its legs now.’

‘We could put a board underneath?’ He improvises with a magazine. ‘Mag, blanket, kitten. Ta-dah! ’ He throws his hands out and the kitten slides off his knee, faceplants between his ankles then rolls over and attacks his leg. ‘Maybe not.’

I have to laugh. See what I mean about him being the best thing? What boyfriend would go to that kind of trouble? I’d be a total fool to ever think about him in any way other than just a mate, despite him being ever so slightly sexy when he pads through the place in the morning; bare-chested, with bare feet and his hair all tousled.

And makes me coffee.

Then goes away without a word.

No conversation required.

He is priceless.

I bumped into Freddie a few days after my world imploded, and he more or less saved my life.

There I was, at an all time low, my life all but over (I’d got a bit melodramatic, which I think I was entitled to). I’d been dumped mid hen-party, had a horribly demanding boss who just then was doing my head in, and had nowhere to live. Even though I love my mum, living with your happily married parents when you’ve just hit thirty, and it looks like you’re going to be a spinster for ever, and you’ve just woken up to the fact that there’s more chance of your eggs getting hard-boiled then producing babies, is not a recipe for happiness. One more day and one of us would have cracked. Nastily.

So, I’d strolled confidently into an estate agents’ office. All naïve and excited about my new life as a single independent woman earning a wage.

Okay, I wasn’t excited, I was exhausted from crying, full of self-doubt and needing to find a cave to hole up in. But I was naïve. That bit is true.

‘I’m looking for a flat to rent. Something like that.’ I’d said to the guy by the desk, pointing at what I thought was an unassuming but nice apartment.

‘Nice, isn’t it?’

‘It is.’ He wasn’t being very helpful. ‘Very. How, er, much are they charging?’

‘Haven’t got a clue.’ He grinned. Quite a nice grin. ‘A lot I’d imagine.’

I smiled back, feeling slightly awkward, not quite sure what to say next.

‘I’m sorry, I can’t find much in your price range.’ A tall, slim, blonde, immaculate vision in killer heels and a tight skirt rudely interrupted our smile-a-thon. ‘Apart from this.’ She passed him the details with a dismissive sniff.

Ahh, so that figured, he didn’t actually work here. I felt myself colour up but couldn’t resist a glance over his shoulder.

It was the smallest hovel, next to a railway line, overlooking bin-alley and on the drug dealing route. Okay, I might be exaggerating the very tiniest bit. About the drug-dealing. But it was daylight hours, so who knows? The really terrifying part of it all though, was that the monthly rent was roughly the amount I’d had in mind as affordable.

Turned out my type of salary didn’t stretch to a roof over my head and food. The two would appear to be mutually exclusive.

Bummer.

Anyhow, gloomy was not the word. I mean I’d thought I’d be able to at least afford something that was halfway decent. And I really, as in really , liked the flat that I’d spotted when I walked in. It said ‘home’ to me.

Turns out I was delusional.

‘Were you interested in that one?’ She’d dismissed him and moved on to me. ‘It’s in an up-and-coming area. Very on-trend.’ She’d looked me up and down and made me not feel on-trend. ‘Well-maintained.’ She was doing it again. Cow. Bits of me might not be particularly well-maintained, but other bits are fine. I nodded mutely. ‘Very reasonable.’ She named a figure and I reckon I blanched. Reasonable it was not. Well, not for a normal person.

I think I may have squeaked.

Anyway, the smiley guy realised I’d been stuck dumbstruck. ‘I think she needs to think about it, we’ll come back later?’ His hands were on my shoulders and he’d spun me round and whisked me out of the office and before I knew it we were walking down the street together.

‘That’s shocking.’ I’d finally found my voice again.

‘Totally. Shit isn’t it trying to find a place round here?’

‘It is indeed shit.’

‘You don’t fancy a restorative coffee, do you? Just to get over the shock of that place?’ He pointed up, and I realised we’d slowed to a halt outside a café.

‘Yes, er, well, I don’t normally have coffee with strange men, I don’t want you to think …’

‘I’m not strange. Trust me!’ He winked, and I wanted to. Trust him. I felt a kind of glimmer of recognition, like I’d known him for years. Comfortable is the word I suppose. Safe.

‘Well, I suppose you do look harmless.’

‘Now,’ he held a finger up, ‘I didn’t say that!’

Anyway, just as I was wondering whether this was how you met ‘the One’, and if this was the moment to state clearly that I was never, ever going to get my knickers off for a man again in my whole life. That I was all about getting my career established and some money saved up for a house deposit. Though, ha, fat chance of me being able to ever do that solo. Unless I slept in a bin. Or trawled the streets for somebody who wanted to share a flat with me. Just as all that was whizzing through my brain, he interrupted me.

‘You don’t recognise me, do you Janey?’

Turns out I was right. He was familiar.

He wasn’t a random stranger, and my feelings weren’t those of kindred spirits destined to be together, but meeting at the wrong moment in their lives. It was much more down to earth than that.

‘It’s me, Freddie! I hung around with Matt at school?’

‘Oh, shit, you’re kidding? Freddie! Wow, sorry, I just didn’t recognise you, it’s the hair, the top, the …’ Body, I wanted to say, but stopped myself.

Now he’d told me, I definitely did remember him. But he’d changed. Back then he’d been a bit of a geek; lanky, quiet. Sweet. Whereas his mate Matt was all front. A cocky bugger who was a bit of a dish and knew it.

Freddie was the cheeky one, who played the fool some of the time (like when he nicked my yoghurt) but most of the time blended into the background. Into Matt’s shadow.

I grin. ‘You said you weren’t strange!’

‘I’m not. Now.’ He grins back. ‘I was a teenager back then, we’re all strange.’

‘You can say that again!’