Part 4 (1/2)

'There's something I wanted to say.' He bites his lip. 'You know we always speak frankly to each other about our relations.h.i.+p.'

'Er ... yes,' I say, feeling a little apprehensive.

'This is just an idea. You may not like it. I mean ... it's completely up to you.'

I gaze at Connor in puzzlement. His face is growing pink, and he looks really embarra.s.sed.

Oh my G.o.d. Is he going to start getting kinky? Does he want me to dress up in outfits and stuff?

I wouldn't mind being a nurse, actually. Or Catwoman from Batman. That would be cool. I could get some s.h.i.+ny boots ...

'I was thinking that ... perhaps ... we could ...' He stops awkwardly.

'Yes?' I put a supportive hand on his arm.

'We could ...' He stops again.

'Yes?'

There's another silence. I almost can't breathe. What does he want us to do? What?

'We could start calling each other ”darling”,' he says in an embarra.s.sed rush.

'What?' I say blankly.

'It's just that ...' Connor flushes pinker. 'We're going to be living together. It's quite a commitment. And I noticed recently, we never seem to use any ... terms of endearment.'

I stare at him, feeling caught out.

'Don't we?'

'No.'

'Oh.' I take a sip of coffee. Now I think about it, he's right. We don't. Why don't we?

'So what do you think? Only if you want to.'

'Absolutely!' I say quickly. 'I mean, you're right. Of course we should.' I clear my throat. 'Darling!'

'Thanks, darling,' he says, with a loving smile, and I smile back, trying to ignore the tiny protests inside my head.

This doesn't feel right.

I don't feel like a darling.

Darling is a married person with pearls and a four-wheel-drive.

'Emma?' Connor's staring at me. 'Is something wrong?'

'I'm not sure!' I give a self-conscious laugh. 'I just don't know if I feel like a ”darling”. But ... you know. It may grow on me.'

'Really? Well, we can use something else. What about ”dear”?'

Dear? Is he serious?

'No,' I say quickly. 'I think ”darling” is better.'

'Or ”sweetheart” ... ”honey” ... ”angel”

'Maybe. Look, can we just leave it?'

Connor's face falls, and I feel bad. Come on. I can call my boyfriend 'darling', for G.o.d's sake. This is what growing up's all about. I'm just going to have to get used to it.

'Connor, I'm sorry,' I say. 'I don't know what's wrong with me. Maybe I'm still a bit tense after that flight.' I take his hand. 'Darling.'

'That's all right, darling.' He smiles back at me, his sunny expression restored, and gives me a kiss. 'See you later.'

You see. Easy.

Oh G.o.d.

Anyway. It doesn't matter. I expect all couples have this kind of awkward-ish moment. It's probably perfectly normal.

It takes me about half an hour to get from Connor's place in Maida Vale to Islington, which is where I live, and as I open the door I find Lissy on the sofa. She's surrounded by papers and has a frown of concentration on her face. She works so hard, Lissy. She really overdoes it sometimes.

'What are you working on?' I say sympathetically. 'Is it that fraud case?'

'No, it's this article,' says Lissy abstractly, and lifts up a glossy magazine. 'It says since the days of Cleopatra, the proportions of beauty have been the same, and there's a way to work out how beautiful you are, scientifically. You do all these measurements ...'

'Oh right!' I say interestedly. 'So what are you?'

'I'm just working it out.' She frowns at the page again. 'That makes 53 ... subtract 20 ... makes ... Oh my G.o.d!' She stares at the page in dismay. 'I only got 33!'

'Out of what?'

'A hundred! 33 out of a hundred!'

'Oh Lissy. That's c.r.a.p.'

'I know,' says Lissy seriously. 'I'm ugly. I knew it. You know, all my life I've kind of secretly known, but-'

'No!' I say, trying not to laugh. 'I meant the magazine's c.r.a.p! You can't measure beauty with some stupid index. Just look at you!' I gesture at Lissy, who has the biggest grey eyes in the world, and gorgeous clear pale skin and is frankly stunning, even if her last haircut was a bit severe. 'I mean, who are you going to believe? The mirror or a stupid mindless magazine article?'

'A stupid mindless magazine article,' says Lissy, as though it's perfectly obvious.

I know she's half joking. But ever since her boyfriend Simon chucked her, Lissy's had really low self-esteem. I'm actually a bit worried about her.