The Night Train ✓

22 / afternoon delight

Friday was a domestic day and Sarah was quite happy humming to herself as she listened to the radio, accompanied by the occasional burst of steam from the iron. Two piles were building up on the sofa, one for her and one for Lucas, after she had already done a load of laundry that was fresh out of the drier. The ironing board was set up in the gap between the kitchen and the sitting room, the cord a tripping hazard across the space, but she was more than aware of it after already burning her hand on the hot plate once that morning. Her fingers and arms were always getting scarred by the iron, and occasionally the marks on her skin were from the racks inside the oven.

She was halfway through the crumpled load in the laundry basket when Phoebe's face illuminated her phone screen and she answered with a smile, putting her phone on speaker so she could continue her chores.

"Hi, Pheebs," she said, talking louder to be heard over the hum of the iron. She leant across the counter to switch off the radio, plunging the flat into virtual silence.

"Sarah! Did you know that I haven't seen you in, like, forever?" Phoebe cried out. "I was going to ask you to lunch but I don't have the day off and my weekend is totally crammed, which fucking sucks. How are you?"

"I'm ok," Sarah said with a smile. "I'm great."

She had spoken to Phoebe since her date on Friday, the one which could have been a disaster but which had ended up being a highlight of her year - the date during which she had found herself with a boyfriend, now able to call Truman more than just the guy she was seeing. She was his girlfriend; she had met his daughter, and she couldn't keep the grin from her lips.

"I bet you are," Phoebe scoffed. "We haven't talked since Monday, and you can't pretend that Tuesday wasn't Valentine's Day. Please tell me you got lucky - I'm holding out hope for you, Sarah, and your poor unloved vagina."

Sarah gasped. "Oh my goodness, Pheebs! That is so rude. And no, we haven't slept together." She tutted at her friend. "I just went over to his for supper, and I met his daughter."

"Oh my God, you did? How was that? I bet that was awkward."

With a smile, Sarah shook her head and pulled out one of Lucas's school shirts to iron out the creases. "No, it wasn't, actually. She's the sweetest little girl. Absolutely lovely, and I'm pretty sure I got her seal of approval. She told Truman to marry me so I'm guessing she liked me."

"That's the fucking cutest," Phoebe said with a groan. "Ugh. I like this kid already, and I don't like kids. Your son and any subsequent children, step or biological, are the only exceptions to that rule."

A gentle laugh escaped Sarah, rolling her eyes at her best friend. Distracted, she almost ran the iron over her hand and she jerked away, coming close to yanking the cord out of the plug. "I'm glad to hear that. Lucas would be very upset to hear that you don't like him."

"I fucking love him and you know it," Phoebe said. "Don't try to distract me. I'm trying to talk about you and your new fucking boyfriend - who you aren't even fucking. You guys really haven't slept together?"

"No!" Sarah said. "Pheebs, I haven't even said I love you yet, I'm not going to jump straight to sex."

Phoebe groaned. "You don't have to say those words to have sex. It's not a magic key - trust me."

"Maybe not for you," Sarah said, her voice quietening a little as she turned the shirt around to iron around and between the buttons, "but it is for me."

With a heavy sigh, Phoebe said, "Ok. So do you love him?"

Silence ensued for a moment. Sarah contemplated every response her brain threw at her, but she didn't have much time to think before Phoebe interrupted her thought process.