Chapter 39
One Year Later
Nicole lays her palms on the table and smugly states, ‘I knew this wouldn’t work out.’
I huff. ‘You did not.’
She scrapes the last of the ice cream from the glass and tries to get someone’s attention. ‘I did.’
‘You encouraged me,’ I protest. ‘You threw me a party when I left.’
Our waiter, an extremely patient teenager, comes over to take yet another drinks order. ‘Could we get more Slippery Nipples?’ Nicole asks.
‘How many?’
‘My friend,’ she says, raising a hand to his, ‘they come in pairs. Could we also have the bill and, ooh, a cheeseboard?’
‘I’m sorry, ma’am, we don’t serve cheeseboards.’
As the waiter leaves, Nicole’s face falls. ‘Ma’am,’ she hisses. ‘Let’s bring back being called sweetheart and babe, I hate this ma’am business.’
I refill my water glass and stare at the dust on the small llama decorations hanging from the fake tree behind Nicole. ‘When did this become a thing?’ I point up. ‘Trees in restaurants.’
‘Okay, you are drunk.’
‘Yes, around fifty per cent.’
It’s been eight months since I left Chat to work in marketing for Top Slice, an online education platform that specialises in getting international students into top universities.
After not getting the product marketing job at Chat, I set about finding a role in education.
Top Slice wowed me with a great salary and management training.
However, I have zero creative freedom, no chance of logging off before 6 p.m. and it’s essentially just marketing.
Also, due to me having lauded my – quite basic – Mandarin about, I also get pulled into countless meetings with our Chinese office.
‘I miss working with you,’ Nicole says.
‘I miss working with you too,’ I admit. ‘But if I’m lucky enough to leave Top Slice before it kills me with stress, it’ll be for something completely different.’
Nicole frowns. ‘All these months on and every time you mention your company I still think you work for a sandwich shop. Come back.’
‘When I was at Chat you were always moaning at me to leave.’
‘I know. I’m glad you moved on, moved up.
It’s just that we keep trying to find a replacement for you and they’re all terrible.
The current new you is so dry and the conversation is always so appropriate.
Last week I asked if she wanted to come for a drink and she looked at me like I’d offered her crack. I hate Gen Z. They’re boring.’
‘I love Gen Z, they’re so self-assured. I was a pushover at that age. Drinking too much, going out too much, never saying no to anything.’
‘I loved you at that age,’ Nicole gushes. ‘You were wild.’
It seems like ages ago. It was ages ago.
Nicole proceeds to tell me a bunch of stories about her wilder years and how when she was her son’s age of thirteen, she was already into shoplifting and alcopops.
‘And now?’ I say, gesturing around the lovely, yet slightly too premium Peruvian restaurant Ikenna recommended. ‘Our idea of getting wild is drinking fifteen-pound cocktails with each other once a month.’
She throws her head back dramatically. ‘You’re a decade younger than me. Tell me you have some exciting weekend plans?’
‘Does helping Eric redecorate the bathroom count?’
She pretends to bash her head against the table. ‘You’ve become so dull.’
She’s right. All I do with my weekends is DIY with Eric, because I’m the best lodger ever. Run club, because it’s the single source of my Staines social life. And sleep, because I work over fifty hours most weeks.
The waiter brings our final drinks and the bill, which I slap my hand over before Nicole does.
‘Stop,’ she says breathily, while reaching out. ‘Please, don’t pay.’
‘Once my mortgage goes through, we’ll be back at your place eating pasta bakes and whoa, we really ate a lot of fish tonight. This place is pricey.’
‘It’s wonderful. Thank you.’
We do our shooters then wrap it up. ‘So, pub?’ Nicole says once we’re out into the sort of summer evening that feels it could go on forever.
‘Sure. Though, one drink only. My head is spinning.’
‘We’ll do the fresh air thing, then get you a pint of water before we start drinking heavily again,’ Nicole says. ‘I might even have a sneaky Berocca.’
‘You’re definitely not consuming that product the correct way.’ In my beautiful, yet slightly ostentatious gold stiletto heels, I struggle to keep up with Nicole’s purposeful walk. ‘Wait for me.’
‘Why do you do it to yourself?’
‘I don’t know. Every time I vow to start dressing sensibly, I see something pretty, impractical and dry clean only I simply must have. Though I’m quite dressed down tonight. No?’ I give her a twirl so she can appreciate my halter-neck jumpsuit.
She waves her hand in front of me. ‘No hon, you are dressed to pull.’
‘Pull? Is that a word from the olden days?’
Nicole’s right, the fresh air helps, as does taking a slow people-watching walk through Soho. As we do, I share tales from my latest dating adventures with Harrison, whose opening line was, ‘Teach me how to say something rude in Spanish.’
Despite struggling to catch a spark, I saw him again, twice more, because I’m sometimes overwhelmed by how much I want another person besides me, another body. I’m also trying to give things more of a chance to develop.
‘You can’t force it, Zo; you’re not going to meet someone special just because you feel ready for it.’
‘Who said I’m after someone special? I just want someone to sleep with and occasionally go to a farmers’ market with.’
‘I’m sure he’s out there somewhere. Actually, what are we doing staggering about looking for a pub? It’s Billy’s birthday and they were all going out for it. Should I find out where they ended up?’
‘Billy. Now there’s someone I don’t miss.’
‘Danni was going too, and some others.’ Nicole checks her phone. ‘Ah, they’re in Kingly Court. Perfect. Let’s go.’
We cross onto Carnaby Street, then through the short alley to the court with its colourful shopfronts, white canopy and trees full of fairy lights all year round. It would be one of my favourite places in London if it had a single decent restaurant and was half as busy.
‘I can see them,’ Nicole says as we dodge a man laden with Selfridges bags. ‘Shit.’ She spins back to me.
‘What?’ I ask. ‘Is Jimmy with them?’
‘How drunk are you?’ she asks.
Behind her I spot the group, so many of my old Chat friends spread out across two benches.
‘This was a good idea,’ I say excitedly as I see Danni with her Insta-model hair glowing under a heat lamp.
But as I take a few steps, Nicole pounces in front of me.
She gives me a tight smile then says, ‘Cian’s with them. ’