‘Huh?’ This takes me by surprise and she puts down the pile of pictures she was rifling through. ‘I mean, it could be. It could be an ex or an acquaintance or… a friend.’
This hits me square in the chest. Someone Iknow. It couldn’t be, I’d be able to tell. Surely.
‘I don’t really have any proper exes,’ I say warily. ‘Not really.’
‘You’ve dated plenty of guys,’ Salma insists. ‘Maybe not long term, but there are definitely some broken hearts out there. A few who might be looking for another chance with the Jem-Meister.’
‘Jem-Meister?’ I enquire, adding, ‘I suppose it’s better than Jim-Jems.’
She laughs. ‘Are you still in touch with any of them? Any of your exes?’
I consider this. ‘I still wouldn’t exactly call them exes, but there are three guys I’ve shagged more than once.’ I glance at Salma for confirmation.
‘Only three? Are you still not counting that bus driver you were going out with for a while, who moved to Scotland to become a full-time Loch Ness monster hunter?’
‘Shush, you!’ I cry. ‘We agreed never to mention him again.’
She hides a smile behind her hand. ‘Fine. I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t be him writing the notes anyway. He had a very specific fetish for slimy, aquatic monsters with longnecks.’ She pauses. ‘And you only have one of the things on that list.’
I take a second. ‘The long neck, right?’ She looks away and I swat her.
‘Anyway, I still follow all three on Instagram,’ I admit, pulling out my phone and opening the app. I type in a name and show Salma.
‘Oh god, I remember him!’ she giggles. ‘But look, he’s got a wife and three babies now – ew. Thank you, next.’ We visit number two. ‘Nope,’ she pronounces. ‘He’s living in Australia, so unless he’sreallycommitted to this project, the flight times back and forth to return the library book wouldn’t be realistic.’ She looks at me expectantly and I type in the third and final name. Someone I was with for seven months when I was twenty-three.
‘He’s hot!’ Salma says, removing the phone from my grip and flicking through shot after shot of him living his hashtag best life.
‘I have noticed he still watches my Instagram Stories…’ I say bashfully. ‘And he usually likes my posts.’
‘That is very damning,’ Salma says, nodding as she clicks on his Stories. Her face suddenly changes and she shrieks, throwing the phone at me. ‘Oh god oh god oh god, I just accidentally video-called him!’
I scream, too. ‘Oh god, why?HOW, SALMA?’
‘I was watching his Stories and went to hit the exit button, but the call button is also in the top right corner!’ she wails, looking traumatized.
From the phone, a voice pipes up, ‘Er, hello? Jemma?’
‘You didn’t hang up?’ I hiss at Salma and she pales, shaking her head.
I creep towards the phone, face down on the desk. Without picking up the phone, I yell in a dodgy Scottish accent, ‘WRONG NUMBER!’ and quickly hit the hang up button. Salma and I stare at each other for a long second, and then burst out laughing.
‘Were you channelling the Loch Ness monster man?’ she asks through silly tears.
‘Shit, maybe?!’ I say, giggling. ‘Oh god, hopefully it’s not him that’s been writing the book notes, because he’ll think I’m an absolute idiot now.’
‘I mean, bloody hell!’ Salma says, panting. ‘Why is there even a call function on Instagram? WHO IS CALLING EACH OTHER OVER INSTAGRAM?’
We collapse laughing again.
‘How are you girls getting on?’ Mum’s singsong question carries through from the hallway, her face appearing in the doorway.
‘Fine thanks, Mrs Poyntz,’ Salma intones politely, trying to pull herself together.
‘Would you like a drink?’ Mum offers in a child-friendly voice, like I’m having a playdate. ‘A Coca-Cola or something?’
‘No thanks, Mrs Poyntz,’ Salma answers, like a well-trained puppy.
‘OK, well, make yourself at home, won’t you!’ She disappears and Salma shakes her head.
