‘You?’ Gen splutters, when I tell her and Sophie about my new running regime … of all of two days. Sophie, also laughing, pats her on the back. It’s Wednesday lunchtime and we’re sitting in a café in the city.
‘Why not?’
‘You’re just not exactly – well, come on, Jess. The last time you ran anywhere was probably when you found out Tesco had reduced all the Christmas chocolate to half price last January.’
I’m slightly offended at just how funny Gen and Sophie find the idea of me running. ‘I’m actually quite fit, I’ll have you know,’ I lie.
‘Well,’ Sophie says, looking at Gen then me. ‘As you’re on a mission to turn your life around, we’ve got a proposition for you.’
She’s got that glint in her eye that I recognise, and I groan.
I’m about to be organised.
‘So, Gen and I were talking about your lack of love life—’
I glare at Gen, who is trying to look angelic and chewing on the crust of her toasted sandwich. ‘Sorry,’ she mouths, pulling a face with her mouth still full. ‘She needed a project.’
‘I didn’t mean me,’ I say, scowling. But I can’t deny it, Sophie’s looking far more like her old self.
‘You’ve tried one date. It was a disaster, but you can’t just fall off the horse and stay there. You need to get back on.’
Sophie’s tone is firm, like a primary school teacher encouraging a recalcitrant pupil to join in with a PE class.
‘Honestly,’ I say, trying to sound assertive, ‘I’m fine. Loads of work stuff going on, lots of friends, I’ve got my running—’ I’ve been twice, but that definitely counts ‘—and I really just don’t want to …’ I tail off.
‘You don’t want to end up stranded on a riverboat party cruise while some banking wanker gets off with someone else under your nose?’ Gen looks at me, her huge blue eyes wide, eyebrows lifted.
‘Exactly.’
‘And that’s why we’ve decided to stage an intervention.’
‘I’m beginning to feel slightly nervous.’
Sophie shakes her head, and her pale blonde hair lifts and settles back down, still perfectly neat. ‘No need. We’ve found you The Perfect Man.’
‘There’s no such thing,’ I say.
‘Ah,’ says Sophie, pulling her phone out of her bag, ‘there is. Look.’
‘I’m not signing up for online dating again. I had to delete Tinder – every time I looked at it there were dodgy messages from perverts, telling me what they’d like to do to me, or what they were doing to themselves, or worse. And the photographs?’ I shudder dramatically.
‘Will you stop talking for one second?’ Sophie pushes her phone across to me and I pick it up.
There’s a photograph on her screen. I zoom in on the picture so I can see it more clearly. It’s a blond man with dark brown eyes. He’s holding a bottle of beer and standing next to Sophie. They look a bit like a pair of Danish twins. Both tall, healthy-looking, blond, and with impossibly good teeth. Weirdly, he reminds me a bit of the man I saw in the hailstorm that day before Christmas. Only presumably Sophie isn’t trying to set me up with someone who already has a boyfriend.
‘Who’s that?’ I ask.
‘James.’ Sophie takes the phone away, looking slightly smug. I reach across, grabbing it back and zooming in on the photo again. He looks nice. Friendly.
‘Is he gay?’ I ask.
‘I beg your pardon?’ Sophie takes the phone back, laughing. ‘Thought you weren’t interested.’
‘I’m not,’ I say. He does look quite nice though. ‘What’s the catch?’
‘No catch,’ says Gen. She’s doodling absent-mindedly on the expensive-looking menu, drawing groups of tiny little daisies. A waitress comes past and swipes it from her hands, giving her a disapproving look.
‘Would you like anything else?’ she says to Gen, who’s already wolfed down her sandwich.
‘I’d like another coffee, please – decaf, thanks.’ Sophie smiles up at her.
‘I’ll have a diet Coke, thanks,’ says Gen.
I look out of the window and watch as a couple of tourists wander by, hand-in-hand. It’s weird, but recently everywhere I’ve looked people seem to be loved up and I’ve felt like a spare part, sitting in cafés watching the world go by and with a vague sense that my life is going by too, and if I don’t do anything about it, I’m going to wake up one morning and find I’m forty-five, still single, and still wondering what I’m going to be when I grow up. I square my shoulders and turn back to look at Sophie.
‘So what’s the deal with James?’
‘He works in the marketing department with me. Really lovely. Single – no skeletons in the closet. As soon as he was transferred in last month I thought he’d be perfect for you.’
‘Okay,’ I say, feeling bold. ‘Where do I sign?’
Sophie blushes slightly and looks sideways at Gen.
‘Ah. Well,’ she says, pulling a face, ‘I have to confess I sort of organised a blind date for the two of you for next Friday.’
‘You did what?’ I reel backwards, my head banging off the window. ‘Ouch.’
‘That’s what she meant by an intervention,’ Gen says, wryly. She shifts over slightly as the waitress returns with our order.
‘What if I’d said no?’ I ask.
‘But you didn’t, did you?’ Sophie looks very pleased with herself.
‘A blind date, though?’ I grimace.
‘Don’t knock it,’ says Sophie. ‘Worked for Harry and Meghan, didn’t it?’
I roll my eyes. She’s got a point though, I guess.
‘Fine,’ I say, and they high-five and say yes in unison.