‘I don’t know,’ she said, sliding the card into her jeans pocket.
‘Why don’t you start your own company?’ Marlowe said. ‘Then you might actually benefit from all those extra hours.’
‘I don’t think that’s really an option for me. Besides, it’s not really the best economic climate to start a business.’ She stood up to pour herself some orange juice. ‘Fucking government.’
‘Where is George, by the way?’ I asked.
‘Shanghai – ’til Tuesday. That reminds me, I’ve got to pick up his suits from the dry cleaners.’
‘For God’s sake, Mar…’ Amber said.
‘Leave it, Amber,’ I whispered, under my breath.
‘So, what are we going to do about Jess’s lady parts?’ Sean said, quickly changing the subject.
‘My what?!’ I shouted, half spitting out my cereal.
‘We need to get it eaten before it passes its sell by date. Which for women these days is around what… thirty-five?’
I shook my head in despair. Seven years of friendship and he still rendered me speechless.
‘I’m kidding, obviously,’ he said. ‘But seriously, think about it. Take the standards down a notch and open your mind to what’s out there.’
‘Lower the standards. Great advice,’ I said sarcastically.
At that point Elsa called for Marlowe from upstairs. ‘Coming,’ Marlowe shouted, taking one last sip of coffee.
We all watched her leave the room.
‘I’m sorry, but am I the only one who can’t believe what I’m hearing?’ Amber said, in a hushed voice. ‘What a total prick. Pisses off to Shanghai for a week and kicks off about the sports match he’s missed. Not interested in his wife – or child!!’
‘Look, he’s basically a Prince William lookalike who keeps her in designer furniture,’ Sean said.
Amber raised her eyebrow at him.
‘I’m just saying,’ he continued, ‘there’s give and take.’
‘You’re right, the grass isn’t always greener on the other side,’ I said as Amber looked at me. ‘And it isn’t necessarily worse either. It’s just… not our business.’
‘You’re right,’ Sean said. ‘It’s their marriage. And it’s not our business.’
The next night, after a two-hour debate with myself about whether or not to cancel, I put my hair in heated rollers and pulled myself together. It was drinks, maybe dinner and, as he said so himself, totally casual. I cast my eyes over my open wardrobe. If I wore my black designer dress on a first date, he would probably think I was high maintenance even though it was a sample sale purchase and cost no more than a bottle of supermarket wine. I slowly put it back on the rack and dabbed a tissue across the small hairline cuts on my legs (a regrettably bad idea to have shaved my legs standing up in the shower).
On my way out the door I stopped in front of the mirror in the hallway and planted dark red lipstick across my lips that provided a hint of class and would also act as a deterrent in case he tried to kiss me: a Hadrian’s Wall of red, sealing off my mouth from Harry, in case he turned out to be a sexual predator or worse. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. Good luck, I said out loud, quietly knowing that should probably be whispered to Harry more than me.
Outside the tube station I walked over to the man I vaguely recognised from the picture. He was taller than I had imagined with dusty blond hair in a perfectly coiffed style.
‘Harry?’ I said, smiling.
‘Jess.’ He offered his hand for me to shake before quickly changing his mind and kissing my cheek. ‘Firstly, may I say you look beautiful and secondly, thank you for showing up.’
I smiled at him. Still no words but at least the pounding in my chest had ceased.
He had booked the table for eight thirty and together we strolled to the restaurant nestled just around the corner. Harry looked back as we walked against the evening sun and as we approached the corner of the pavement I noticed him do it again.
‘Are you okay?’ I asked.
‘Yeah, it’s fine. I’m just looking for my ex-wife. I’ve got a restraining order but you can’t be too careful.’
I looked behind us as we crossed the road.
‘Jess, I’m kidding,’ he said, as I hit his arm and began to smile. ‘You looked so bloody nervous coming out of the tube, I thought I’d better do something to lighten the mood.’
It had worked. He was funny, and despite my nerves he had made me laugh all the way to the glass doorway of the restaurant where we were hit with low hung lights and the smell of incense. We were seated at a table next to the open window where he gazed at me with expectant eyes to start the conversation.
‘Great to be here,’ I said, with all I could muster.
‘Great to be here too,’ he said.
In the midst of a silence that would have made a funeral seem energetic, I did what every girl in my position would do: I escaped to the toilets.
I caught sight of myself as I stood reapplying my lipstick in the bathroom mirror. I was being difficult; perhaps it was even an act of sabotage so that things wouldn’t work out. So that I wouldn’t have to be brave and try something new. Harry was attractive, funny and from what I could tell, incredibly easy-going. But as I sat on the toilet, tallying up the laughs, I realised my newly surfaced pessimism was an altogether more difficult mountain to conquer. This wasn’t about him at all. The problem was definitely me.
‘You were ages,’ Harry said as I returned to the table.
‘Was I?’
‘Thought you’d fallen in.’ His eyes perused the wine list with a cheeky smile. ‘So are you a big eater, because this menu’s pretty pricey? I mean, I’m okay to just nibble on an edamame, if you are?’
‘Well, I just saw on my way back from the bathroom that the couple opposite us left a hefty amount of rice behind so maybe…’
‘What an excellent idea,’ Harry said. ‘I’ll distract, you pilfer.’
I laughed as the waiter arrived to take our order.
‘I was a bit nervous before tonight but, this is not so bad, is it?’ Harry said, reaching for my hand over the table.
‘Nope,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘It’s not too bad at all.’
Give it a chance, Jess, I said to myself as Harry ordered his food from the waiter. Just give it a chance.
The car pulled up outside my door just short of eleven thirty. Although neither of us knew at this point if there would be a second date, he was brave and made the first move to kiss me. I turned away, a knee-jerk reaction that I later slightly regretted. In an awkward moment that felt like a strange end to an otherwise perfect evening, I gave him a small wave and closed the door behind me. It was a typical survival tactic. One I had to unlearn. Fast. As I opened the door of my flat, I slid out of my punishing shoes and immediately saw Amber on the sofa, seated with a box of tissues on her knee, surrounded by the used ones.
‘A builder on the bus gave me his cold this morning,’ she shouted. ‘He was breathing all over me – first I could smell his morning breath and now I feel like I’ve trekked through the Himalayas.’
I picked up the tissues and carried them over to the kitchen.
‘Well, let’s not pass it to everyone, shall we?’ I shouted, dumping them into our silver pedal bin before heading over to the