Page 8 of Faking It (and falling in love)

“I guess in your industry there’ll be a few raised eyebrows,” said Alex, turning a softer gaze onto Philippa than she had seen earlier that evening.

“Maybe a little, but I’m sure it’ll all be fine.” Philippa gave a small smile.

“Well, I’d like to apologise for coming on quite so strong during our theatrics.” Alex put her hands up. “If I’d known you were so new, I’d have toned it down a bit. You just seemed so confident.”

“Oh, don’t apologise. It was nice,” smiled Philippa, before amending herself, “amusing, even.” She remembered the words Charlie had spoken about a trail of broken hearts. Even so, shewas curious to know more about this woman, who seemed to say so much while giving almost nothing away.

“Well, good. I hoped I hadn’t scandalised you.” Alex drained her glass. “And I meant what I said, by the way. If it’s useful to have me as a bit of a foil at corporate events, then I’m always willing. It might even be useful.”

“Useful?” queried Philippa.

“Well, Charlie might have overstated it, but he’s not entirely wrong. I’ve been a bit lacking in judgement recently. I don’t actually have a trail of tearful women weeping behind me, but it’s true that I’ve broken a couple of hearts by prioritising hedonism over maturity. Perhaps you can help me with that.” Alex sighed. “You seem like a proper grown-up.”

Philippa laughed. “A proper grown-up? What’s one of those?”

“Fair point,” said Alex with a laugh. “But anyway, the offer is there, should you need it.”

“Noted,” said Philippa, as Charlie returned to the table.

“Ooh, what are you noting?” he asked. “Is she giving you sapphic lady-loving tips?”

“No, Charles,” said Philippa, side-eyeing her friend. “She and I were discussing what a proper grown-up really is.”

“Oh my goodness,” said Charlie. “Well, you are definitely one,” he said, pointing at Philippa. “You, not so much,” he added, as he elbowed Alex.

“Charming,” she said, smiling. “But perhaps being a grown-up is overrated.”

“I quite agree,” said Charlie. “So, Philippa, we need to know what your type is.”

“Oh, I see, back to the freshly laid lesbian,” said Philippa, curling her lip. “I don’t know, really. I mean, I thought men were my type for more time than might be considered realistic.”

“Fair,” said Alex. “But what about celebrities you’ve had a crush on? Who makes you weak at the knees?” She grinned and raised an eyebrow, causing Philippa to forget her train of thought.

Philippa played for time by taking a sip of her drink. “Hmm, ok, well, I would definitely say Gillian Anderson.”

“Good choice,” said Alex, “and she’s definitely on my list.”

“You are sooo predictable, you two,” said Charlie. “Gillian Anderson’s the obvious answer. I’ve never met a lesbian who didn’t love her.”

“Because we all have exceptional taste,” said Alex.

“I beg to differ, but let’s not digress,” said Charlie.

“Ok, I always had a thing for Janet Ellis when she presentedBlue Peterin the eighties.” Philippa braced herself for hoots of laughter.

“Oh, niche,” said Alex, “I like it. I mean, there is a rich vein ofBlue Peterpresenters we could examine. I always had a rather odd thing for Anthea Turner.”

Philippa’s jaw dropped, and she turned to Charlie to see a similar reaction. “Anthea Turner!” he exclaimed.

“Yes,” said Alex. “And I will not be crush shamed!”

“Tell me why,” said Philippa, intrigued.

“Well, she was always so wholesome, so organised and clean. I always sensed that behind the facade she could be a bit bossy and, I don’t know, sexy.” Alex looked away from Philippa and Charlie, clearly conjuring some less than family-friendly vision of the blonde children’s presenter.

“I refer you to my original comment about taste,” said Charlie.

They all laughed.

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