A Hopeless Romantic by Harriet Evans Page A

normal hair, normal everything —it was all she could do not to walk out. Amy gave her a lizardlike, thin-lipped smile, which meant nothing, as Amy pretty much hated all girls except her own, incredibly similar friends, who were kind of like the Pussycat Dolls mixed with the clique in Mean Girls.
    “Hey, Dan,” said Chris as Laura came over to the bar. “There’s your Tube buddy!”
    “Hey, Tube buddy,” said Dan, bending over to kiss Laura. How could he be so nonchalant, Laura wondered, as his hand squeezed her shoulder fleetingly and he kissed her on the cheek. “Can I get you a drink?”
    “Oh, a beer, thanks, Tube buddy!” said Laura. “Hi, Jon. Hey, Chris. How was Morocco?”
    “Haven’t seen you since then, have we? Can’t believe it. It was great,” said Chris, hugging her. “Got some great photos to show you! The girls are over there, go and say hi.”
    The girls. Laura went over to where Amy and Jo were sitting. Jo jumped up immediately. “Laura, hi!” she said, her eyes sparkling. “God, it’s so good to see you, babe! How long’s it been? How long? This is crap, we mustn’t leave it that long next time.”
    “Hi, Laura!” said Amy. She looked down at Laura—both actually and metaphorically, thought Laura—and all three sat down again. Whoa, what an evening of direness lies ahead of me, she thought. Dan put her beer on the table and smiled at her. Amy leaned back and caught his hand. He smiled mechanically at her and released himself, walking back over to the bar to rejoin Chris. Laura didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
     
    “I know we’ve had our problems over the past year,” Amy confided to Jo and Laura, an hour and a couple of drinks later. “But lately, he’s been…so different. I think he’s realized.”
    “Realized what?” asked Jo.
    “Oh, I really hope he’s realized…Gosh, it’s awful saying it out loud, isn’t it?”
    “Oh, honey,” said Jo. She patted her hand. “I know….”
    Jo was no fan of Amy’s either, but was a far more tolerant person than Laura.
    “Well…” Amy blinked slowly, her huge eyes gazing at Jo with intensity. “That, you know. He’ll lose me. I’m going to finish with him if he doesn’t shape up, and I’ve told him that.”
    Laura looked round to see if Dan could hear any of this conversation. Chris and his brother were at the bar, talking to Hilary, but she couldn’t see Dan anywhere. She turned back and looked at Amy, and suddenly felt the old hot flush of guilt wash over her.
    “Well, that’s great, Amy,” said Jo kindly. “I hope it works out, if that’s what you want.”
    Laura flashed her a look as if to say, “We hate Amy, what are you doing?” But Jo only glanced at her briefly in return.
    “I really think it will,” said Amy, smoothing down her hair and smiling. “I hope by then…well, I’m going to drop some gentle hints about what I’d like more than anything else for my thirtieth. If you know what I mean!”
    “Great,” said Jo, taking a sip of her drink. “Well, we’ll just have to wait and see!”
    “What?” Laura asked stupidly, thinking, What does she want? Some new shoes, probably, knowing Amy.
    “Oh, Laura…!” Amy looked at Laura as if she were a little alien, or a Mexican peasant unfamiliar with her ways. Amy delicately ate an olive, and licked one of her fingers. She smiled at Laura pityingly. “An engagement ring, of course.”
    A pit from the lemon slice in Laura’s gin and tonic wedged itself in her throat and she nearly choked. “Right,” she gasped, determined not to lose control. “Right. Aaah. Aaaaah. Loo. Excuse me.” And she got up and stumbled outside, to the clear fresh air of the spring night. She stood there taking big gulps of air, one hand clutching her throat, the other rubbing her stomach, a habit she had had since she was little. Right, indeed. She looked in through the big glass windows of the Cavendish, over to the squashy leather sofas where her friends sat,