preferred her as a George Foreman grill.”
“Anyway, I’ve got to get back to work.” Jess cleared her throat. “We’re going out on Friday, you’re coming and so is she. I’m staying at Lucy’s tonight so I won’t see you till tomorrow, so this is your early warning.”
“I can’t do tomorrow.”
Kate was lying and Jess knew it.
“There’s a difference between can’t and won’t. I’ll see you at home after work tomorrow,” Jess said. “It’s going to be great.”
The line went dead as Jess hung up and Kate was left staring at her phone. She wasn’t sure ‘great’ covered it, but she had little choice. When you arrived in your mid-30s, it seemed the whole world was coupled up and you’re the odd one out.
Plus, her uncle’s death had made Kate think. If she died at his age, she might only have another 30 years on the clock. If she died at her dad’s age, she only had another 21 years left. Now that was a sobering thought. Preferably, she would like some of those years to be with someone she loved, in a meaningful relationship. Not too much to ask, was it?
So perhaps Friday should be the date Kate concentrated on. Not Saturday, with the hot-but-straight florist. Yes, the hot-George-Foreman-like lesbian should be her focus. Which didn’t really conjure up a great image, if Kate was honest.
10
Friday duly followed Thursday, and after work, Kate found herself being nudged by Jess in their kitchen, a grin playing on her features.
“It’s like the tables have turned, isn’t it?” Jess looked terribly pleased with herself.
“How so?”
“Not so long ago, you were in a relationship, I was single and you were pushing me into the dating game. Now I’m doing the same for you.”
“You are so giving,” Kate said.
“I know.”
Kate took two beers from the fridge and Jess walked ahead of her through to the lounge. Kate moved a couple of cushions from the sofa onto the floor. She knew she had too many, but cushions were her weakness. Particularly fluffy ones. The brown leather couch creaked as Kate sat down, and she breathed in the smell of freshly polished leather.
“You excited about later?” Jess asked.
The plan was to meet Lucy and three of her friends in the Data Club, a new bar in Dalston. Kate’s mood could best be described as nonplussed, which even she knew was not what Jess wanted to hear. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was willing this new, apparently perfect, woman to be a florist called Meg.
“Beside myself. Cannot wait. Literally chomping at the bit to meet the woman who resembles a boxing legend.” Kate took a swig of her beer and stared evenly at Jess.
“George Foreman was a very handsome boxer,” Jess replied.
“Is there such a thing? Don’t all boxers look a bit, well, battered?”
“She’s not battered — she’s grilled.” Jess sat back, her features creased with the enormity of her joke.
Kate gave her a minute to recover. “What’s she called anyway?” Kate paused. “And don’t say Georgina.”
“Wouldn’t that be great?” Jess’s sides were, literally, shaking. “But she’s actually called Tanya — I think. Check with Lucy on the details. Kate and Tanya. Tanya and Kate. ‘Where’s Kate? Oh, she’s out with Tanya’.” Jess’s voice was sing-song.
Kate couldn’t help but smile at her friend. “She sounds like a school prefect. Or somebody who owns a horse.”
“Let’s not start Tanya-bashing before you’ve met her. And Clare Balding owns a horse — you like her.”
“I’m not sure I’d want to date her, though. Clare’s not really my type.”
“Do you have a type?” Jess asked.
An image of Meg popped into Kate’s mind. “I do when I see it.” Kate shifted on the sofa, grabbed another cushion and leaned back. “And will she be wearing a badge too? What if I hit on the wrong friend and accidentally split up a couple? That would be a bad night.”
Jess smiled. “Lucy
“Anyway, I’ve got to get back to work.” Jess cleared her throat. “We’re going out on Friday, you’re coming and so is she. I’m staying at Lucy’s tonight so I won’t see you till tomorrow, so this is your early warning.”
“I can’t do tomorrow.”
Kate was lying and Jess knew it.
“There’s a difference between can’t and won’t. I’ll see you at home after work tomorrow,” Jess said. “It’s going to be great.”
The line went dead as Jess hung up and Kate was left staring at her phone. She wasn’t sure ‘great’ covered it, but she had little choice. When you arrived in your mid-30s, it seemed the whole world was coupled up and you’re the odd one out.
Plus, her uncle’s death had made Kate think. If she died at his age, she might only have another 30 years on the clock. If she died at her dad’s age, she only had another 21 years left. Now that was a sobering thought. Preferably, she would like some of those years to be with someone she loved, in a meaningful relationship. Not too much to ask, was it?
So perhaps Friday should be the date Kate concentrated on. Not Saturday, with the hot-but-straight florist. Yes, the hot-George-Foreman-like lesbian should be her focus. Which didn’t really conjure up a great image, if Kate was honest.
10
Friday duly followed Thursday, and after work, Kate found herself being nudged by Jess in their kitchen, a grin playing on her features.
“It’s like the tables have turned, isn’t it?” Jess looked terribly pleased with herself.
“How so?”
“Not so long ago, you were in a relationship, I was single and you were pushing me into the dating game. Now I’m doing the same for you.”
“You are so giving,” Kate said.
“I know.”
Kate took two beers from the fridge and Jess walked ahead of her through to the lounge. Kate moved a couple of cushions from the sofa onto the floor. She knew she had too many, but cushions were her weakness. Particularly fluffy ones. The brown leather couch creaked as Kate sat down, and she breathed in the smell of freshly polished leather.
“You excited about later?” Jess asked.
The plan was to meet Lucy and three of her friends in the Data Club, a new bar in Dalston. Kate’s mood could best be described as nonplussed, which even she knew was not what Jess wanted to hear. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was willing this new, apparently perfect, woman to be a florist called Meg.
“Beside myself. Cannot wait. Literally chomping at the bit to meet the woman who resembles a boxing legend.” Kate took a swig of her beer and stared evenly at Jess.
“George Foreman was a very handsome boxer,” Jess replied.
“Is there such a thing? Don’t all boxers look a bit, well, battered?”
“She’s not battered — she’s grilled.” Jess sat back, her features creased with the enormity of her joke.
Kate gave her a minute to recover. “What’s she called anyway?” Kate paused. “And don’t say Georgina.”
“Wouldn’t that be great?” Jess’s sides were, literally, shaking. “But she’s actually called Tanya — I think. Check with Lucy on the details. Kate and Tanya. Tanya and Kate. ‘Where’s Kate? Oh, she’s out with Tanya’.” Jess’s voice was sing-song.
Kate couldn’t help but smile at her friend. “She sounds like a school prefect. Or somebody who owns a horse.”
“Let’s not start Tanya-bashing before you’ve met her. And Clare Balding owns a horse — you like her.”
“I’m not sure I’d want to date her, though. Clare’s not really my type.”
“Do you have a type?” Jess asked.
An image of Meg popped into Kate’s mind. “I do when I see it.” Kate shifted on the sofa, grabbed another cushion and leaned back. “And will she be wearing a badge too? What if I hit on the wrong friend and accidentally split up a couple? That would be a bad night.”
Jess smiled. “Lucy
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