Chapter 8
‘Sophie! Get up to anything nice this weekend?’
I’ve just arrived in the office, orange juice in hand, wishing I’d also picked up a bacon roll from Greggs.
As I walk over to reception, I see Eesha grinning. From her eager face I can tell that she’s not particularly interested in my weekend, she just wants to tell me about her own.
‘I just had a quiet one,’ I reply, which is true if I don’t count Friday’s speed dating farce.
My Saturday and Sunday were spent lazing around, only punctuated by a quick jaunt around the Marks and Spencer’s food court.
Naomi knows about the German pub but I’m not willing to share with anyone else. Not yet.
‘What about you?’ I ask. ‘Anything—’
Before I can finish my request for information, she holds out her left hand and squeals.
‘Congratulations!’ I say, peering down. I’m no expert on engagement rings but I know that it’s beautiful. A big round diamond on a gold band which really dazzles against her olive skin.
‘He took me to the River Café. I had the risotto. Antonio was going to order the pigeon, but I told him I’d have to sit with my back to him because no one has any business eating a pigeon.’
I find it hard to disagree.
‘Anyway, he proposed over the panna cotta. Complete surprise. I nearly spilled my champagne.’
I met her boyfriend Antonio last year at our Christmas night out. A tall, attractive air traffic controller, originally from Australia. They’ve been dating for three years but so far Eesha’s arachnophobia has kept her from visiting Down Under.
They are the size of dinner plates, and they will kill you. And don’t get me started on the crocodiles. How that country has any inhabitants is a mystery.
‘I’m really happy for you,’ I tell her. ‘Gorgeous ring! Very exciting.’
As she squeals again, the phone starts ringing.
I nod for her to go ahead and answer it, continuing to my desk.
I tell myself not to dwell on the fact that yet another person I know is engaged, instead focusing on Eesha, and how delighted she is.
At least if there’s an engagement party, I’ll get an invite along with all her fellow twentysomething friends.
As I get to my desk, I find Kieran eating a bacon roll over a Greggs paper bag. Dammit. I place my juice on the table and try not to sniff the delicious air. Shelley sweeps past me, carrying coffee on her way to Rupert’s office.
‘Morning,’ I say, opening my laptop. ‘Who’s on doughnuts this morning? I’m starving.’
‘Susan,’ he replies through a mouth full of bacon. ‘But she’s sick and working from home.’
‘Shit, really?’ I grumble. ‘That’s disappointing. Perhaps some kind person will go out and get some, if I stare at them long enough.’
‘Maybe.’
I stare at Kieran until he notices.
‘Nope. Sorry,’ he replies. ‘I have a shitload to do for this new Evian campaign, and the content for your dating app. I do not want to risk seeing or hearing from Eddie at any point this week.’
Likewise, I think, wincing. Our next meeting is going to be awkward as hell. Apparently, the last book he read was no book at all because he’s too busy being a pretentious bore.
‘Fine,’ I grumble. ‘I’ll just order some in and hope that the Deliveroo driver doesn’t drop them again.’
From Rupert’s office we hear Shelley laugh like a banshee. Kieran rolls his eyes. ‘God, she’s so annoying,’ he mumbles.
‘Did you have a good weekend?’ I ask, opening my orange juice. It’s not as chilled as when I bought it, but the sugar hit is definitely needed.
‘It wasn’t bad,’ he affirms. ‘Bite to eat at Nando’s, then met up with Charlotte to see 2:22 A Ghost Story. It was pretty good. Have you seen it?’
‘NO! And do not tell me a thing about it!’ I insist. ‘I have tickets for October.’
‘The twist is great,’ he says. ‘When that first spooky nun appears . . . man, it’s terrifying.’
‘Kieran, if you’re not kidding, I swear they will never find your body.’
He sniggers and takes the last bite of his bacon roll, little crumbs of bread settling on his beard.
‘What did you do then?’ he asks, while I point to his facial hair debris. He begins to brush the crumbs from his beard onto his T-shirt.
Well, Kieran, I decided to sit in front of men and judge them based on appearance and a few minutes of awkward conversation.
‘I bought Percy Pigs and binged Killing Eve season two,’ I reply. ‘Pretty boring weekend . . . Fuck, I’m boring myself even saying that.’
‘Doesn’t sound that boring,’ Kieran reassures me. ‘Percy Pigs are delicious.’
I’m starting to recognise just what a bloody hermit I’ve become.
For me, staying in at the weekend isn’t anything out of the ordinary.
I think if I announced to Kieran that I’d been anywhere but in my flat, he would collapse in shock.
But I’m trying. At least this saying yes malarky will get me out of the house and away from pig-shaped gummies.