Behind Her Eyes. Sarah Pinborough

she says. ‘At this rate you’ll have me back in my size ten jeans before I know it.’

      ‘And why not?’

      ‘Yeah, why not?’

      She gives me an enthusiastic grin as I head out into the blissfully cool air, and I feel happy. I like her. I really do.

      I kick hard and fast in the water that’s deliciously cold on my skin, and as my stroke slices through in long, lean lengths, I get some of the workout I’ve missed. I need the rush that comes with it. I love the rush.

      We’re headed to the cafe, fresh-faced and hair dried, when I glance up at the clock on the wall. It’s two o’clock.

      ‘Is that the time? Hang on,’ I say, in a sudden panic, and squat to rummage through my bag.

      ‘You okay?’ Louise asks. ‘Did you leave something in the changing room?’

      ‘No, it’s not that,’ I frown, distracted. ‘My phone. I forgot my phone. I’m not used to having one, you see, but it’s two o’clock and if I don’t answer …’ It’s my turn for words to come out in a rush. I look up and force a smile. It’s not very convincing. ‘Look, why don’t we go to my place for lunch? The salads here are good, but I’ve got some great deli stuff in the fridge, and we can sit in the garden.’

      ‘Well, I don’t—’ she starts, clearly not keen on being in my house – David’s house – but I cut her off.

      ‘I’ll drop you home after.’ I smile again, trying to be dazzling and brilliant and beautiful. ‘It’ll be fun.’

      ‘Okay,’ she says, after a moment, even though she’s still perplexed. ‘Let’s do that then. But I can’t stay long.’

      I do like her. Strong, warm, funny.

      And also easily led.