Precocious Read Online Free Page A

taught and were defined by. Even when I got to know you, properly, I would avoid calling you Henry (you used to say Henry Morgan was a pirate’s name, remember?). I avoided calling you anything at all, to your face, the way children sometimes feel awkward saying the first names of their friends’ parents.
    But I enjoy, now, hearing Mari say ‘Henry Morgan’ out loud. It proves you still exist, that I did see you, that this is really happening.
    ‘You kissed?’ She lights a cigarette. Hearing my confession repeated to me, I realise how small a thing a kiss is. I want to make it sound like more so I say it again.
    ‘We kissed.’ I am solemn.
    In my head, in the space of fewer than twenty-four hours, the kiss has become epic. It is a movie kiss: sleeting rain, thundering heartbeats and the irrefutable proof that here you are, at the worst possible time, back in my life, fated to cause heady, passionate chaos. Your hands in my hair, my heart in my mouth – every nuance of the thirty, perhaps sixty, seconds heavy with meaning.
    At other times I’ve had to remind myself that it
was
a minute, only a minute among the millions of minutes of my life, and what’s more the further away the minute moves the more shadowy and intangible it becomes. In these moments I’m plunged into gloom – it was nothing, a mere brush of the lips, perhaps you were just being friendly and I’ve completely misread the situation. One thing’s for certain: you won’t be obsessing about it the way I am.
    I stop myself from saying all of this to Mari, who is pulling a face having taken a large swig of whiskey.
    ‘Well, a kiss is nothing really,’ she says airily, waving her cigarette around. To be fair, Mari routinely kisses complete strangers.
    ‘It is when you’re married.’
    ‘Hmm. So what happens now? Did he take your number?’
    I look at her. Somehow, stupidly, I hadn’t thought of that. No – you didn’t. You didn’t ask for it, I didn’t offer. I am never going to see you again. Why didn’t you ask me for it?
    The kiss-minute moves away another mile.
    ‘No.’
    ‘Well, no harm done then. I mean, as you say – you’re married. And more to the point, why would you want that old perv back in your life?’
    ‘Listen, I know what you think of him, but …’
    ‘No buts, babe. Let it go,’ she pauses, exhales, ‘let
him
go.’
    Let you go.
    It was nothing.
    No harm done.
    We drink, and talk, and bitch about which of our friends has put on weight and who has lost weight, and laugh about old times, and I ring Dave to slur goodnight, and I fall asleep and Mari covers me with a prickly old blanket.
    I am too old to drink whiskey in the week and crawl to sleep on other people’s sofas. Mari brings me tea. I grimace.
    ‘I hope that isn’t the same mug as last night.’
    ‘Of course not,’ she says, but I’m not convinced. She runs her fingers through her scarlet hair, rubs her eyes. ‘How are you feeling this morning?’
    ‘I’m not gonna lie, I’ve felt better,’ I rub at my temples, ‘and listen, about what I told you. I feel a bit daft now. Ridiculous, actually. Thanks for listening … and for putting me straight. God,’ I laugh, ‘you can tell how boring my life has become when I make such a drama out of nothing!’
    ‘Nothing wrong with a bit of boring, babe,’ Mari smiles, and for a moment it’s like I’m thirteen again, and she’s fifteen, and I feel like she has all the wisdom of the world.
    The beeping text alert actually makes my head hurt. It’s from a number I don’t recognise.
    Mrs Worthing. Please call me re: collision on Weds night.
    Could it be …?
    ‘What is it, doll?’
    ‘Um … you know I told you I scraped that car. I left my number on the windscreen. It’s … I guess it’s them.’
    ‘Uh-oh. Too honest as usual, kid. Well, your insurance will cover it, won’t it?’
    ‘Yep, I suppose. I’ll call them from the car.’ I gulp down my tea. ‘Thanks for having me honey, sorry to