A Sprinkle of Sabotage by Fiona Leitch (bill gates book recommendations TXT) 📗

guilty any longer than necessary. It briefly flashed across my mind that I should call Nathan and tell him what I’d discovered first, but after he’d basically put the phone down on me in a huff (and after I’d kissed Tony), I was feeling a bit of an emotional wreck.

We dropped Jade off, then pulled into our own driveway a few doors further up the road. Daisy bounced up the stairs to change out of her uniform while I put the kettle on.

‘Wondered where you were,’ said Mum, appearing in the back doorway. I jumped and nearly knocked a mug off the counter. ‘Ooh, you’re proper nervy today, ain’t you? I was just putting some food out for the birds. Those blasted squirrels have been at the feeder again…’

I let Mum chatter on, not really listening to her, as I got teabags and milk out.

‘You all right, sweetheart?’ Mum had crept up on me, whether intentionally or because she was just naturally stealthy I didn’t know. She did have the air of a geriatric ninja about her sometimes.

‘Not really.’ Did I want to tell her about today? I decided I did, even if I got a lecture out of it, because sometimes you just need to talk to your mum, don’t you? ‘Tony and I kissed today.’

‘Oh, right…’ She looked at me closely. I couldn’t tell if she was pleased or disappointed by the idea, but she didn’t look that surprised. ‘So how was it?’

‘You mean how was the kiss, or how was it afterwards?’ I asked, but I knew what she meant. ‘Because honestly, I’m not sure on either count.’

‘How was it left? Are you boyfriend and girlfriend, or…?’

‘Or. Definitely or.’

Mum nodded. ‘I see. Brenda will be disappointed. She’s been convinced for years that you two would get together. She’s probably already chosen her hat for the wedding.’

‘What about you?’ I asked. ‘I know how much you like him, and he’s so good with Daisy…’

‘None of that matters, if you don’t feel the same.’

‘Neither of us do. Which was a bit of a surprise to both of us.’

‘Are you upset?’

‘Sort of… I don’t know. I did have a massive cry all over him, so I suppose I must be a bit.’

Mum pulled me in for a hug and kissed me on the cheek, then led me over to the kitchen table. She pulled out a chair.

‘Sit there and I’ll make you a Mum special,’ she said, and I smiled. A ‘Mum special’ was just a cup of tea and a plate of something sweet, but it had always worked when I was a teenager and it still worked now. I sat there feeling a bit sorry for myself as the kettle boiled and she opened a packet of Jaffa cakes, then joined me.

‘You love each other,’ she said, ‘but you’re not in love with each other.’

I nodded. ‘Yeah, I suppose so…’

‘Being in love is basically being a bit daft about each other,’ she said. ‘It’s when you can’t stop thinking about each other, and you get butterflies in your stomach – all that nonsense.’ I opened my mouth to protest about her use of the word ‘nonsense’ – it seemed a bit harsh to me – but she stopped me. ‘I know, I know. It’s daft, but it’s nice. Eventually it wears off, and if you’re lucky you find out that you’re best friends and you can still stand sharing the same bed every night. Companionship is far more important than passion, in the long term.’

‘So by that measure, you think I should go out with Tony, even though it felt weird kissing him?’ I shook my head, almost angry at her, because she was supposed to be giving me the benefit of her wisdom. But she laughed.

‘Oh my Lord, no. That’s not what I mean at all. You need that daft phase, so that during the times when you want to kill each other you can look back and think, ‘He might be fat and bald now, and so annoying that I want to brain him with the iron, but we’ll always have Paris…’ or some other romantic malarkey. You and Tony have bypassed the passion and gone straight to companionship.’

‘Riiight…’ I said, doubtfully. ‘So, Tony and I shouldn’t be together? Which is just as well, because we’re not.’

‘Tony’s like a pair of comfy slippers,’ Mum said. ‘Nothing wrong with that. You know what you’re getting with him, and he’d always treat you well. But you’re not ready for a pair of slippers.’

‘I dunno, sometimes I feel like I am…’

Mum shook her head firmly. ‘No, you’re not. You need someone who can be a whole shoe shop for you. You need someone who takes you out dancing, like a pair of sexy kitten heels, and who goes on adventures with you, like a pair of hiking boots—’

‘You must really be regretting using the shoe shop analogy about now,’ I said. She ignored me.

‘You need someone who’s like a pair of ballet shoes.’

I looked at her for a moment and then shook my head. ‘Nope, not getting that one.’

‘They keep you on your toes,’ she said. ‘To be honest, that’s what Tony needs too.’

‘What, ballet shoes? You mean I’m Tony’s comfy slippers?’

‘Is everything all right?’ I looked up and saw Daisy standing in the doorway. I smiled and patted the chair next to me, which, to be fair, she was already eyeing up as she’d spotted the Jaffa cakes.

‘Everything’s fine,’ I said. ‘I’m just getting relationship advice from Dr Scholl.’

‘Uh-oh,’ she said, plopping herself down next to me and reaching for a Jaffa cake. ‘Do I want to know?’

‘Probably not.’ We nibbled in silence for a few minutes, letting the chocolatey, orangey, cakey goodness seep into our bones…

‘So how was your day?’ I asked her finally. ‘Did you have that maths test?’

‘Bugger the maths test—’

‘Um, language please! You’re not thirteen yet.’

‘Oh, can I swear when I’m thirteen then? Can I at least say shi—’

‘No you blood— Blooming can’t. There’s