It Would Be Wrong to Steal My Sister's Boyfriend by Sophie Ranald Page A

could have all the good parts of going out with someone, but none of the shit,” I said. I’d been reading Jean-Paul Sartre, and I burbled on for a bit about how monogamy was a bourgeois construct, limiting personal freedom and stifling growth. I’m not making this up. I thought how desirable I must sound – how interesting and independent and grown-up. I suppose part of me even believed the twaddle I was spouting.
    “To exist is to be free,” I said. “Consciousness is what makes us different from cauliflowers.”
    “Different from cauli… Right,” Ben said. “How about a pint?”
    I felt smugly confident that my little speech would have the desired effect. Ben would think I was the ultimate cool girl, offering great sex but not asking for commitment or fidelity. I wasn’t going to be clingy and demanding, and I wasn’t going to fall in love. That way no one would get hurt.
    Well, that worked out well for you, didn’t it, I said to myself as my alarm jerked me awake for the final time and I reluctantly swung my feet out of bed and into my waiting running shoes.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    My new regimen might have been austere, but after five days of morning runs, porridge for breakfast and increasingly inventive vegetable-based dinners, I was forced to admit that Ben was on to something. My clothes were feeling looser, my skin had lost that pasty winter pallor and Duncan at work asked me if I was in love.
    “Because you’re glowing, sweetie,” he said. “This is January, it isn’t natural.”
    We were in a meeting to discuss our new outdoor advertising campaign, which wasn’t actually outdoors at all. It was a series of digital escalator panels, paid for by a generous donation from a deceased estate and a huge deal for us because we didn’t usuallyhave any budget at all for advertising. The meeting got off to a bad start, though, because Ruth was a bit late and by the time she walked in Duncan and I were already deep in discussion about the DEPs, and Ruth misheard and sort of blanched and said, “I know we’re all for being up-front about sexual education but surely we shouldn’t be running a London-wide campaign about double penetration?” And by the time we’d finished laughing and set her straight and I’d gone across the road to squander some of our funds on takeaway cappuccinos from the Fairtrade coffee place, and we’d had a bit of general chit-chat, it was nearly lunchtime and we had yet to make any decisions.
    “Don’t you think Ellie looks well, Ruth?” Duncan said.
    “Ellie always looks lovely,” said Ruth. When I first started working there I wondered if Ruth was hitting on me, but in fact she’s just a naturally kind person who makes a point of saying nice things that make other people feel good about themselves.
    “I’ve started getting up early in the mornings and going running,” I explained, “and I’m putting on a bit of slap before work too, and ironing my shirts. Just trying to clean up my act, that’s all.”
    “She is in love!” Duncan crowed. “She so is! Tell all, Ellie, who is he?”
    I wasn’t going to explain the whole Oliver situation to Duncan, who is a terrible gossip, so it was a relief when my phone rang and Ruth said, “Shall we reconvene at the same time tomorrow, and then we really must make some decisions,” and they sort of drifted away and I checked my phone and saw Claire’s name flashing up on the screen.
    “Hey Ellie!” her voice sounded a bit squeaky, the way it does when she’s excited about something. Being a drama teacher, Claire knows all about breath control and resonance and all those good things, but she’s never seemed to stop this tell-tale change of pitch in her own voice, and I think it’s really sweet so I’ve never mentioned it to her. “I need a hugefavour. Are you free this evening?”
    “Rose is due back from her holiday,” I said, “but we haven’t made any plans. Why?”
    “Can you possibly look after Pers? Just for