Conditional Love by Cathy Bramley Page B

Emma tried to throw a Malteser into her open mouth.
    Jess couldn’t handle alcohol at lunchtime. It had taken Emma and me quite some time to wrestle her away from her unfinished pint of cider and her new pensioner friends, who she had been entertaining with her version of ‘Somewhere over the Rainbow’. One or two of the old men had even had a tear in their eyes.
    ‘We should go out tonight,’ said Emma, ‘it’s ages since we’ve been anywhere.’
    Floppy and comfy in the armchair and drained from the excursion to Woodby, I ignored her. She didn’t want to go out really. She only said it because she felt she should. Because like me, Emma was thirty-two and single. Because she worked on her own in a little studio bashing away at precious metals all day and she knew she would never meet a man unless she made an effort.
    I flicked through the TV channels, trying to find something to distract her, and settled Grand Designs . I loved this show.
    ‘It’s Saturday night,’ she persisted. ‘Come on, it’s only seven o’clock. Let’s crack open a bottle, put some music on and get tarted up. We could be in town for eight.’
    ‘Haven’t you forgotten someone?’ I nodded in Jess’s direction as she gave a gentle snuffle. Emma grabbed another Malteser, squinted, took aim and fired. ‘Goal! And the crowd go wild,’ she chanted.
    Jess’s eyes popped open and she sat up, munching away as if being woken with a mouthful of chocolate was the most normal thing in the world.
    ‘Are we going out tonight?’ she asked.
    I rolled my eyes. Not another Piper sister intent on disrupting my sedate Saturday night telly with a glass of wine and a bag of unhealthy snacks. I loved going out with them both, I did really. We always had fun. Although it usually descended into ‘Clash of the Titians’ once the two redheads clapped eyes on a man they both fancied. Then it was gloves off, game on.
    I grimaced. ‘Not tonight. I don’t think I’m ready to put myself back on the market yet.’
    Marc hadn’t called despite the glimmer of interest he had displayed when he popped round the other night. This was a good thing, I told myself. Surely it was better if he didn’t want to get back together simply because of the financial benefits? But just in case, I didn’t want to scupper my chances by making myself unavailable. I would stay in, in case he called. Besides, I fancied doing a bit of sketching.
    Emma huffed and puffed for a bit, then, ‘Can I be blunt?’
    I met Jess’s eyes and we snorted. Emma was never knowingly backward in coming forward.
    ‘When was the last time you went out?’ she continued.
    ‘Marc and I went out all the time!’ I protested.
    ‘I mean out out. Not last orders at the bar when he finally turns up after being God knows where all night.’
    Jess bit her lip and looked at me in sympathy. ‘It’s true, babes. You did pretty much put your life on hold for him. Dressed up and ready to go out, sitting on that sofa with your lipgloss on for hours. Just waiting.’
    I saw myself for a moment through their eyes. It did sound a bit pathetic, but at the time it seemed the right thing to do. Perhaps that’s why he thought I was boring, whereas I thought I was being accommodating and flexible. Next time I had a boyfriend (or got Marc back) I would have to be less accessible.
    ‘You’re gorgeous, Soph,’ said Emma. ‘And you can do a million times better than waiting in for a booty call from him. You should be paraded round and shown off.’
    ‘Oh, gerroff,’ I interrupted, shovelling a handful of Maltesers into my mouth. ‘You’re making me sound like a prize racehorse.’
    ‘You need to get back in the saddle…’
    ‘So now I’m the jockey!’
    Jess yawned. ‘Are we deffo not going out, then?’
    Emma stared at me.
    ‘Er, no,’ I answered, picking up my sketch pad.
    ‘OK.’ Jess plumped up a cushion, stretched her legs out on her sister’s lap and closed her eyes.
    ‘And if you ask me