lemonade.
‘Interesting terminology. Nope, she’s going travelling next week.’
‘You sound devastated. Do you actually like women, Robert?’
‘I love them!’ he says, an injured expression on his face. ‘Don’t give me the you-must-be-a-misogynist crap. I love talking to women, I love their company. I simply prefer their company on a very, very casual basis.’
‘Lucky them. Why don’t you invite bowler hat to join us?’
‘Maybe later. What about you? Seeing Skinny Jeans again?’
‘Oh, fuck me, no. No way,’ I sigh. ‘I suppose I had to get it over and done with. First person since, you know. Peter.’ I pause to pretend to spit over my shoulder.
‘That’s the spirit.’
I frown into space for a second. Peter. Paulie. Josh From HR. Skinny Jeans. God. What a mess I’m making of this whole singledom thing. Robert’s still looking at me and grinning.
‘Can we change the subject from my love life?’ I ask.
‘Tell me about your job. You never talk about it . . .’
‘Neither do you!’ I exclaim.
He smiles, but doesn’t say anything.
I sigh. ‘My work life is, to misquote The Breakfast Club, unsatisfying. I don’t enjoy it and I’m not very good at it, either,’ I add, thinking about my meeting with Suzanne yesterday. Fuck, and I didn’t turn up today. She’ll love that. ‘I know I have to do something about it,’ I say. ‘I just don’t know where to start.’
‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘It’s just . . . I don’t like it anymore,’ I say. ‘I don’t find it interesting. I used to love taking a wide-angle lens to the world and then zooming in on specifics, does that make sense?’ Robert nods. ‘But the rest of it, the calls, the sales . . . I just don’t care about. My boss told me I had to start delivering and stop being so passive,’ I sigh. ‘Whatever the fuck that means. But I can’t. I am not very good at making, uh, decisions.’
‘That’s not true . . .
You decided to leave Peter.’
‘Yeah, about five years after I should have,’ I reply, shaking my head. God, he’s good at making me talk. I can’t think of the last time I chatted like this, even with one of the girls. ‘Oh well. At least the money is good, why take a risk?’ I sigh, and try to sound cheerful. ‘And if it ain’t broke, right?’
‘Isn’t that the kind of thinking that kept you with Peter for so long?’
‘Ouch,’ I say, wincing.
‘Sorry. My big sister rang from Dublin earlier. She always asks me pointed questions like that. It’s catching.’
‘I didn’t know you had a big sister.’ The idea of Robert being a baby brother is strangely delightful.
‘I have two. Both older, both boss me around constantly. Alice is married with children in Dublin. I see her every couple of months. Rosie is in London, but south of the river. So I see her even less. Is Sophie your only sister?’
‘I most certainly am!’ Sophie, Luke and Henry have arrived. I feel almost surprised to see them. I was enjoying talking to Robert so much that I forgot why we were here.
We stand up for the inevitable hug-and-kiss hello dance. Robert hasn’t met Henry before, and I can see them sizing each other up the way men do. Henry still looks about 21: his rugby brawn is somehow boyish. In comparison, Robert looks like his dad.
I briefly recount the highlights of last night. Everyone tells morning-after stories to make me feel better.
‘My worst walk of shame was Battersea Bridge to Clapham North,’ says Luke. ‘I’d just moved here and knew Battersea was next to Clapham so figured it couldn’t take more than ten minutes . . . I took a detour in Clapham Junction and it took an hour and a fucking half to get home.’
‘I had a window-jump of shame because the girl didn’t want her flatmates to know she’d pulled me,’ says Henry.
‘I’ve never had a walk of shame,’ says Sophie. ‘Because I have always been an angel.’
I raise an eyebrow at her doubtfully. That is so not
‘Interesting terminology. Nope, she’s going travelling next week.’
‘You sound devastated. Do you actually like women, Robert?’
‘I love them!’ he says, an injured expression on his face. ‘Don’t give me the you-must-be-a-misogynist crap. I love talking to women, I love their company. I simply prefer their company on a very, very casual basis.’
‘Lucky them. Why don’t you invite bowler hat to join us?’
‘Maybe later. What about you? Seeing Skinny Jeans again?’
‘Oh, fuck me, no. No way,’ I sigh. ‘I suppose I had to get it over and done with. First person since, you know. Peter.’ I pause to pretend to spit over my shoulder.
‘That’s the spirit.’
I frown into space for a second. Peter. Paulie. Josh From HR. Skinny Jeans. God. What a mess I’m making of this whole singledom thing. Robert’s still looking at me and grinning.
‘Can we change the subject from my love life?’ I ask.
‘Tell me about your job. You never talk about it . . .’
‘Neither do you!’ I exclaim.
He smiles, but doesn’t say anything.
I sigh. ‘My work life is, to misquote The Breakfast Club, unsatisfying. I don’t enjoy it and I’m not very good at it, either,’ I add, thinking about my meeting with Suzanne yesterday. Fuck, and I didn’t turn up today. She’ll love that. ‘I know I have to do something about it,’ I say. ‘I just don’t know where to start.’
‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘It’s just . . . I don’t like it anymore,’ I say. ‘I don’t find it interesting. I used to love taking a wide-angle lens to the world and then zooming in on specifics, does that make sense?’ Robert nods. ‘But the rest of it, the calls, the sales . . . I just don’t care about. My boss told me I had to start delivering and stop being so passive,’ I sigh. ‘Whatever the fuck that means. But I can’t. I am not very good at making, uh, decisions.’
‘That’s not true . . .
You decided to leave Peter.’
‘Yeah, about five years after I should have,’ I reply, shaking my head. God, he’s good at making me talk. I can’t think of the last time I chatted like this, even with one of the girls. ‘Oh well. At least the money is good, why take a risk?’ I sigh, and try to sound cheerful. ‘And if it ain’t broke, right?’
‘Isn’t that the kind of thinking that kept you with Peter for so long?’
‘Ouch,’ I say, wincing.
‘Sorry. My big sister rang from Dublin earlier. She always asks me pointed questions like that. It’s catching.’
‘I didn’t know you had a big sister.’ The idea of Robert being a baby brother is strangely delightful.
‘I have two. Both older, both boss me around constantly. Alice is married with children in Dublin. I see her every couple of months. Rosie is in London, but south of the river. So I see her even less. Is Sophie your only sister?’
‘I most certainly am!’ Sophie, Luke and Henry have arrived. I feel almost surprised to see them. I was enjoying talking to Robert so much that I forgot why we were here.
We stand up for the inevitable hug-and-kiss hello dance. Robert hasn’t met Henry before, and I can see them sizing each other up the way men do. Henry still looks about 21: his rugby brawn is somehow boyish. In comparison, Robert looks like his dad.
I briefly recount the highlights of last night. Everyone tells morning-after stories to make me feel better.
‘My worst walk of shame was Battersea Bridge to Clapham North,’ says Luke. ‘I’d just moved here and knew Battersea was next to Clapham so figured it couldn’t take more than ten minutes . . . I took a detour in Clapham Junction and it took an hour and a fucking half to get home.’
‘I had a window-jump of shame because the girl didn’t want her flatmates to know she’d pulled me,’ says Henry.
‘I’ve never had a walk of shame,’ says Sophie. ‘Because I have always been an angel.’
I raise an eyebrow at her doubtfully. That is so not
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