We Were On a Break: The hilarious and romantic top ten bestseller

‘You’re so cruel,’ David said as I flipped blindly through Bruiser’s chart to cover my hot face. ‘To be honest, Liv, I’d blame Cass for this whole thing. If she hadn’t told you about the ring, you wouldn’t have been so stressed before you went away.’

‘She knows I hate surprises,’ I couldn’t help defend Cass but in my heart of hearts, I agreed with him. My relaxing holiday had been ruined before it had started. ‘It’s stupid, I wasn’t even thinking about getting engaged until this all kicked off. Oh god, David, did he dump me?’

He looked up at the buzzing fluorescent light in the ceiling that Dad was supposed to get fixed while I was away and shrugged.

‘I don’t know, Livvy,’ he said. ‘Men can be shits. Last time I had to break up with a girl, I asked my neighbour to answer my phone and shout at her in Japanese until she stopped calling. Have you tried to call him this morning?’

‘No?’ I replied, still stunned. ‘When he said he’d talk to me later, I assumed I would talk to him later. I didn’t know I’d been bloody dumped, did I?’

‘So you took one part of his conversation literally but not the other?’ He bent over, nose to nose with Bruiser. ‘Women.’

Bruiser growled in agreement. Then farted.

‘Not women, Adam,’ I corrected as David reeled backwards into the sink. He really was noxious, the poor pup. ‘He’s the one who’s being a knob. Who would dump their girlfriend like that? You need to be clear about those kinds of things, you need to be specific. There is no room for ambiguity in a dumping!’

I grabbed hold of the stainless steel examination table and replayed the entire incident. Had he said break-up and not break? Had I misheard? It was possible; I was so tired. But why? Why would he do that? All the stress and hurt and uncertainty bubbled back up inside me. Bruiser gave a quiet growl and licked my hand. Even the flatulent dog felt sorry for me.

‘Liv.’ Fanning the air in front of his face, David leaned against the back door and crossed his black-and-white spotted arms in front of him. ‘Pick up the bloody phone. You won’t know what’s going on until you talk to him.’

Stupid David and his stupid common sense.

‘I’ll do it after my next appointment,’ I said, stretching my naked fingers out wide and pressing into the cold metal of the table. I was not going to lose it at work, I just wasn’t. ‘It’s Zoe Gustar isn’t it? I could do with some pug time.’

‘Are you sure?’ he asked with a furrowed brow. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sure you’re right and this is just a big misunderstanding.’

‘It’s fine,’ I said, my hands shaking. ‘Really, I’m fine.’

‘I’ll talk to Zoe and the pug,’ he said, snatching up the clipboard from the table. ‘Go and call him now. You’re not going to be good for anything until you do.’

‘OK,’ I said, nodding as I opened the door that led to the back passages of the surgery, taking the used instruments with me. ‘I appreciate it.’

‘You’ll figure this out,’ David said, patting me on the topknot as I went. ‘And I’m glad to have you back.’

‘Yeah,’ I agreed with enthusiasm I did not feel as I closed the exam room door behind me. ‘Me too.’

There really was nothing like sticking a thermometer up a dog’s arse then finding out you’d been stealth-dumped to let you know your holiday was over.

4 (#u3639045d-8d3c-52aa-86b4-f8087e2ca335)

‘And apparently that will blow up a microwave.’

Dad pulled two boxes of cereal from the shelf and held them both at arm’s length, considering the packaging over the top of his glasses.

‘I don’t understand why you were trying to microwave yoghurt in the first place,’ I said, taking the Frosties out of his hand and putting them right back on the shelf. ‘How bored were you?’

‘Have you ever cooked yoghurt? Maybe it’s delicious.’ He handed me the Coco Pops without a fight and resignedly replaced them with a box of muesli. ‘I thought it might be a bit like Ready Brek.’

I looked at his all organic, sugar-free selections and tossed the box of Coco Pops back in the trolley. ‘Make sure they’re gone before Mum gets home.’

‘Oh, they will be,’ he said, leaning heavily on the trolley, his walking stick wedged in his shopping bag and resting up against his shoulder like a flagpole missing its flag. ‘Maybe you and Chris can come round tonight and help me finish them. Or we could even order a pizza. It’s bin day tomorrow, your mother would never know.’

‘Pizza?’ I asked in a doubtful tone. ‘I thought you weren’t allowed dairy or gluten any more?’

‘Or meat,’ he added. ‘Let’s get a pepperoni pizza.’

‘I don’t know if I can do tonight,’ I said, walking ahead. ‘I’ve got some stuff on.’

‘Oh. OK,’ he shuffled forward, a martyred smile on his face. ‘Your mum’ll be back tomorrow night. Would have been nice to have a boys’ night but, of course, I know you two are very busy.’

I picked up a packet of Weetabix. We were all out and I knew Liv would want to get back on her healthy eating kick now we were back from holidays. Right after she’d given me the kicking I was almost certain I deserved.

‘Has she had a good time?’ I asked, also remembering I had told Liv I wanted to take a break at three o’clock in the morning and I put the Weetabix back, swallowing down the dark feeling in the pit of my stomach. ‘It was a yoga retreat, wasn’t it?’

‘Yoga retreat and a sugar detox,’ he corrected, turning a corner and staring wistfully at a packet of chocolate Hobnobs. ‘And something to do with mindfulness.’

‘Intense.’ I raised my eyebrows at my dad in his freshly pressed shirt and trousers with a crease so sharp they could have sliced bread. Not that he was allowed to eat bread. Mum’s middle-aged interest in all things healthy had completely passed him by, but Coco Pop bans aside, they both seemed to be adjusting to her new path with relative ease. Probably because Mum didn’t know he was sneaking down the café for a bacon sandwich every other morning when he went out to get the paper. That was the thing about villages: too small for secrets. I’d seen him, hiding in the back behind his Telegraph, brown sauce all over his mush.

‘That’s the one,’ he nodded. ‘Are you sure you can’t do tonight? I mean, Chris has got his own business and a new baby but he said he could find half an hour or so. Early doors? Four-ish?’

Sighing, I picked up the Hobnobs and put them in the trolley next to the Coco Pops.

‘If Chris can make it, I suppose I can.’

‘He’s a good lad,’ Dad said with a nod. ‘He’s got a pitch, you know.’

‘I do know,’ I replied, folding the sleeves of my jumper over my knuckles. ‘He mentioned it. Twice.’

‘He’s doing so well.’ He smiled brightly at a furious-looking woman in a tabard and kept talking. ‘And little Gus, what a pumpkin. Healthy as an ox, he is.’

‘Total pumpkin,’ I agreed, unsure as to whether or not that was a good thing but Dad had been a doctor before he retired so I assumed positive things.

‘You should get some babysitting in,’ Dad advised. ‘Before it’s your turn.’

‘Yeah,’ I replied, focusing on the nutritional table on the back of a jar of Horlicks.

Ever since that fateful night Friday night at Sadie Jenkins’ house party in Year Twelve, me and my mates had spent almost every waking second trying to work out how to have sex as often as possible without knocking anyone up. Sex good, babies bad. Now they were popping up all over the place and I never knew how I was supposed to react. When Cassie first got pregnant, Chris was a wreck, hiding in the back of his garage and singing Oasis songs to himself while he played with his original, mint condition 1992 Game Boy. Now he was posting topless black-and-white pictures of himself on Facebook, holding the baby in the air like he was the FA Cup. As Liv pointed out, it was all very Athena poster and not in a good way. Chris was not a man who should be appearing shirtless in the world.

‘All right, out with it,’ Dad demanded as we headed for the toilet paper aisle. ‘You haven’t said a word about your holiday and quite frankly, Adam, I can’t remember a time you’ve had less to say for yourself since you went through puberty. Is something the matter?’

I shook my head and grabbed a twelve-pack of Andrex.

‘Nope.’

‘Your mum doesn’t like those ones.’ He fished them back out of the trolley and put them straight back on the shelf. ‘Ever since they put the dogs on the paper. She says it makes her uncomfortable.’

‘Fair.’ I swapped for an overpriced, unbleached organic, recycled brand and waited for Dad’s approval, which was given in a slow nod. ‘I’m just tired, we got in late.’

‘But you had a nice time?’ he asked. ‘And Liv’s well?’