‘Oh, you know. A certain heart doctor, carrying you in his arms, then holding onto your hand for dear life.’
I snorted. ‘As if anything would ever go on between me and him.’
‘Why not?’ asked Rosie. ‘Don’t you fancy him?’
I turned my head to look at her, trying to gauge if she was serious.
‘Um … I think I would have to be blind not to fancy him, Rosie.’
‘Or a lesbian,’ Lizzy put in. ‘Although if anyone could make me swap sides it would be that man.’
I rolled my eyes.
‘Then what do you mean, Frankie?’ Rosie continued. She seemed genuinely confused.
‘Well, firstly, he hates me. Secondly, he’s so out of my league it’s not even funny, and thirdly, did I mention he hates me?’ I snapped, tired of this pointless conversation.
‘I don’t think he hates you, Frankie,’ Rosie replied, ‘and what do you mean out of your league?’
I stared at her blankly.
‘I think we both know what I mean, Rosie,’ I said. Why did everyone feel the need to pretend?
‘What?’ she asked. Honestly, why was she pushing this? I decided not to answer verbally and just shrugged.
‘Frankie doesn’t think she’s anything special,’ Lou announced, and I wanted to melt into the seat. I knew the drill here: out would come the false assurances and words of encouragement. It was all so predictable. I sometimes wished that I could give people a truth serum and get some sense out of them. Instead of ‘he dumped you because he’s a dick’ it would be ‘you were probably boring him’; and instead of ‘of course those jeans look great on you’ it would be ‘eeek! Watch out for your muffin-top.’
I was used to these false compliments but I had to admit that Rosie’s acting skills were better than the average.
‘B-but you’re beautiful,’ she said in a shocked voice. I shrugged again and made a dismissive noise.
‘You won’t convince her, there’s no point trying,’ said Lou, sighing as she brushed on what seemed an alarming amount of eye shadow over my lids.
The conversation thankfully moved on after that to where Lizzy and her partner Harriet were going to buy sperm from. Apparently you could get some from Norway, where you were allowed to see a picture of the guy. You could just buy it over the internet and then turkey-baste yourself. I listened with rapt attention, thinking that this might be essential information for me. If I did ever wanted to breed, at least it could be with an attractive Scandinavian.
‘He watches you,’ Rosie suddenly blurted out, interrupting the conversation. She was looking straight at me. ‘Tom, I mean,’ she continued, ‘he’s always watching you. I noticed it before I was on his team. At the meetings, his eyes are always on you.’
‘I –’ I tried to interrupt.
‘And he asks about you,’ she told me. ‘He asks Ash and I about you all the time. He tries to make light of it and pretend that he’s just making conversation, but he always looks really intense when we answer, like he’s trying to absorb every tiny detail he can.’
Okay, well, I would admit that was weird, but still.
‘Probably hoping I don’t complain about him; watching his back or feeling guilty for how he treated me whilst I worked for him,’ I explained, shrugging again and taking another huge slug of wine. Somehow, despite the goodly amounts of alcohol I was consuming, my glass always seemed to be full. Odd.
*****
‘I can’t believe that I’m tearing this wop,’ I muttered in Lou’s ear. My body was feeling uncoordinated as I teetered in the heels that the girls had demanded I wear.
I felt great.
A curious warmth was suffusing my body and making me feel invincible.
Lou giggled, ‘S’not tearing wop, it’s wearing top, you ganker,’ she slurred.
It was the cardiology night out. The girls had finished with my hair and makeup and I had been forced into the barely-there top. It was a shimmery grey and seemed to be held up by only by a tiny thin string behind my neck, leaving my back practically bare. Black trousers and sky-high silver heels completed the look. I always found heels tricky to negotiate but tonight they seemed to be harder to manage than usual.
Thank God I wasn’t drunk.
