Page 50 of If I Never Met You

Yes, Mad Bint of the Year.

She could’ve badly done without her Shirley Basseyness pointed out and muttered: ‘Nope’ with a fierce enough intonation that he didn’t inquire further.

Jabal said nothing, obviously thinking:these award-attending divas.

Laurie’s stomach fizzed and rolled as she walked into the ground-floor brasserie and scanned for Jamie. Heads turned and Laurie felt she should be wearing a sandwich board sayingI am not anyone from Corrie or with a footballer, go back to your Manhattans.

She thought of Emily saying: ‘a huge part of getting attention is signalling you’re up for attention’ and felt the truth of it. Her clothes and make-up commanded:look at me. Inside she howled:don’t.

She saw Jamie, treacle-dark head down, looking at his phone, sitting on a chair at the other side of the circular bar. It was a small island of glass and light, the staff working away within it, noisily rattling ice in shakers above their shoulders. Laurie realised the location might also have been chosen for its scene-setting potential.

Laurie picked her way carefully towards him, the prospect of going arse over tit too awful to contemplate. Jamie glanced up as she approached and did what seemed to be a genuine double-take, eyes widening, mouth open an inch, phone immediately abandoned.

Laurie was too uncomfortable to feel any compliment. It was hard to separate out making an effort for the caper, from simply making an effort for him, and the thought he’d suspect the latter was mortifying.

She reached Jamie and said: ‘Hello.’ There was a pause. ‘Well. Getting on that chair is going to be interesting.’

‘… He left you forwho, again?’

Laurie rolled her heavily made-up eyes. ‘I was going to say “It’s not a competition” but if it isn’t, why am I here? Moral high ground was in short supply, huh.’

‘Well, seriously, morality aside, you look incredible.’

‘Haha. Thanks.’

He stood down from his seat so it was easier for Laurie to heave up into hers. Jamie was wearing a black shirt and slim-cut grey wool trousers, the angles and planes of his face set off wonderfully by the low lighting, and Laurie relaxed a notch, thinking, at least I look like I’m supposed to be here. It was a close-run thing, but feeling too scruffy for the company and clientele would’ve been worse. Inspecting the room, it was indeed the sort of place for beefy men, still glowing pink from their early evening power shower, their rail-thin wives in Kurt Geiger stilettos and everyone flashing American Express cards.

‘Right so, here’s your resolve stiffener,’ Jamie said, and motioned to the waitress who had appeared by them, holding a martini out for Laurie.

Laurie had never been ordered for in her life.

‘Sorry, you drink martinis? It’s vodka, dirty, olives,’ Jamie said, seeing her expression.

Who did he think he was, some ASDA Whoops! aisle James Bond?

‘Yes,’ Laurie said, wondering if she should’ve said no, show me the cocktail menu please, on principle. Who ordered drinksforpeople? Was she a gangster’s moll already?

Compromised, that’s what she was. She’d confided in one man that another man had damaged her.

Laurie sipped it gingerly, recoiling slightly at its salt and strength, as well as the feeling of being taken for granted. Her lips numbed.

‘It’ll be a little easier to play-act this picture if not stone-cold sober,’ Jamie said.

‘What have you got in mind? Is it going to be posed like Charles and Diana’s engagement photo?’ Laurie said as she sipped again.

‘Haha.Whatever love means,’ he quoted, ‘My kind of guy.’ Laurie was quite impressed at him knowing that given he was only thirty-one, though she didn’t say so.

Her phone vibrated with a message and she pulled it out of her bag. Jamie. Uh?

The bartender is a trainee and my drink took a lifetime to make! Shall I order for you? Is a martini OK? Tell you what, I’ll get you that and then if you don’t have it, I will. Jx

‘Oh. Just got your message!’ she said, glancing up from the screen, guiltily. ‘Bloody EE coverage.’

‘Hah. No worries.’

Assuming had made an ass of Laurie, he was being thoughtful. And it occurred to her that if he’d got her something full of passionfruit juice and Malibu, she’d have objected that, in fact, she was the kind of woman who liked proper navy strength drinks. 0/5 to the romantically scalded, grumpy Laurie Watkinson.

‘OK, so, time for a little game theory, as those Twitter analysts of American politics like to say,’ Jamie said, and Laurie smiled into her third sip. Dammit, it was so violent, and yet so drinkable.

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