Page 85 of Don't You Forget About Me

Ed’s holding his phone in his palm, expectantly. It’s in no way his fault that I’ve lived our whole affair in my head, in the time it takes to get my mobile out of my beaded clutch bag.

‘You’re welcome to have my number,’ I say, ‘but I’m not dating much or interested in dating at the moment. If you ever want a waitress-eye view of life in the city, or a quote about something, or a pint with a friendly face, you’re very welcome.’

‘I have enough friends,’ he says, but after keying in my digits.

‘Lucky you, then,’ I reply.

Robyn’s ‘Dancing On My Own’ starts.

‘I love this, excuse me!’ I say.

It might a bit on the nose to dance on my own to this song, but it feels great all the same. I’m not going to do this any more – feel I’m validated by male interest, or get involved with whoever turns up. It’s OK to turn nice guys down. I’m fine as I am.

As it reaches the second chorus, and I’m having a rapturous moment, I feel a bump on my arse and turn round to see Ed, singing along, getting the words wrong, trying to hold onto my waist as he grinds his hips against me.

Sigh.

28

I know the Battle of Elephant’s Foot with Geoffrey was bad when I get an email from Mark. It pings on my phone at an ungodly, efficient person’s hour on Monday and I traipse downstairs to answer it on my computer because it’s larger than my phone, with a strong coffee.

My film star dress is crumpled on its hanger and reality has returned, after an interlude of major hangover. Here was a frisson, though: while in jogging bottoms watching episodes ofDawson’s Creekthrough the holes in a fabric face mask, I texted Lucas. I’ve read the exchange six times.

Do I thank you or sue you for how I feel today? I need a Keith Richards style whole body blood transfusion #freeSambuca

Hah! Bad head? Hope you had a nice time (and didn’t fall out of any coconut trees)

Great, thank you very much for the special service (Coconut trees?)

(It was a joke about Keith Richards) (Google it if you have the energy) And my pleasure x

It’s not exactly the letters between F. Scott Fitzgerald and Zelda but the unexpected appearance of a sign-off kiss is a warmth I shall cling to.

Karen’s left a note for me too. Good-oh.

MORNING.

Your turtle is weirding me out. It was staring at me while I ate dinner last night and smells like cabbage. Please can we move it from that position by the telly, it’s not necessary to let it dominate the room.

PS also are its toenails normal they look like a dinosaur’s

Poor Jammy. I go to check on him, stroke his rough scaly head with my index finger and feed him some gem lettuce. I knew Karen would agree to me having Jammy and then kick off. It took a lot of wheedling and sweetener gifts and promises to bung in more for the bills, as obviously a tortoise is a heat sponge and water user. And he has to go in the living room: there’s no way I could get Jammy’s hutch up two flights of narrow stairs.

I flip open my old Dell laptop, and re-read Mark’s missive. He’s Esther’s nuclear option to talk me round. Given his reluctance to scrap, she deploys this weapon sparingly, knowing overuse will diminish its efficacy. The last time I remember Mark trying to broker a settlement was when I refused to wear the real fur stole – with a little petrified rodent face with yellowed teeth like pins, no less – Mum had chosen when I was bridesmaid to her.

Hi G! Hope you’re well. Look I will get straight to it, you know I don’t usually get involved in this sort of thing but apparently your mum is having conniptions about you avoiding her since you and Geoff had words, and Esther is getting it in the ear. E doesn’t want to push you in case you think she’s on your mum’s side yadda yadda. Do you want to at least tell your mum you’re taking some time out? I’m not telling you what to do. I’m just a brother-in-law, stood in front of a girl, asking her to love him enough to stop him having to listen to your sister wittering on.

Which one was that? Four Weddings? Love, Mark xx

Hi Mark. OK. Given it’s YOU.

Xx

PS Notting Hill, I believe

Mark is clearly at his desk and in need of distraction because before my toast has popped he replies:

Ahhhh the one with the actress?

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