I cringed. ‘Oh god, I haven’t been back there since I had that atrocious date with the guy I met online. The one who was hung up about his weight, remember? Ugh, I’d forgotten about that until now.’
Lucy started sniggering. She was the one who convinced me that Internet dating was a great idea when it was possibly the worst idea since Brexit. ‘You should go back again and create a happy memory there,’ she replied. ‘Take Molly. She’ll probably be bettered behaved than he was.’
‘Oh, I forgot to tell you!’ I exclaimed. ‘Remember I had that meeting at Downtime? Turns out the manager is some guy I shagged years ago.’
‘Oh shite. Was it awkward? What did he say?’
‘It was awful.’ I flopped my head on to the table, narrowly missing my soup. ‘He didn’t remember me. How humiliating.’
Lucy moved my soup bowl and laughed. ‘No one can remembereveryonethey’ve slept with, silly. It’s a good thing! You can do business without both of you constantly remembering that he’s been up you.’
I nodded, my head hanging off the desk.
‘I don’t know why you’re bothered anyway,’ she continued. ‘Random shags mean nothing. We’ve all had unmemorable ones. Go home and be with your stupidly lovely family. At least they’re likely to remember who the fuck you are.’
Friday February 17th
Hazel came round at lunchtime with carrot cake and some of Grace’s clothes that she’d outgrown, which I gratefully accepted. I always find it bizarre that people buy designer clothes for their kids when they’ve already grown out of them by the time they leave the shop. Molly is already wearing age 6 clothes on account of her being a giant.
‘I think I’m going to get my face resurfaced,’ Hazel announced while I made coffee. ‘There’s a clinic doing a deal at the moment, I went to an open night. £500.’
‘Resurfaced? Oh God, you’re not going to get one of those laser jobs where you have to hide indoors for a week and your face literally sheds right off the bone? Are you?’
She shook her head. ‘No, it’s like tiny needles that shoot radio waves or fucking gamma rays into your skin – something like that. I was too busy looking at the before and after photos to listen properly. To be honest, if it makes me look refreshed, they can do what they want.’
Hazel has always had hang ups about ageing. Years of sun worshipping hasn’t helped, but she’s nowhere near as haggard as she implies. She’s a very beautiful, elegant-looking woman. I’m lucky that I haven’t begun to wrinkle yet, but I put that down to having oily skin which never gets a chance to dry out.
‘So tell me,’ she continued, cutting into the cake she brought, ‘how is the therapy going? I must say, it’s a very different approach to what we were offered. Ours was mostly talking and learning to appreciate each other again. Lots of learning to reconnect as individuals and not just as a couple. All very wanky but it seemed to do the trick.’
‘Yeah, Pam is unusual, but that’s why I’ve been going to her for so long. She seems to get me. Oliver says it takes an oddball to understand an oddball. I think he secretly likes her. But the abstinence part is going well – Oliver’s a walking hard-on.’
She laughed. ‘And you?’
‘Don’t ask,’ I replied. ‘I had to go for a walk yesterday to stop me humping the furniture.’
‘Jesus. How long to go now?’
‘One week,’ I replied, blowing on my coffee. ‘You’re still taking Molly on the Friday night, right? There’s no way she can be around when I pounce on him.’
‘Yup, I have a movie night planned. And I’ll bring her back late afternoon so you can sleep in . . . or have more sex. Whatever.’
I fucking love my friends.
Saturday February 18th
I think we did ‘frottage’. I’m not even entirely sure that’s a word but we did rubbing. Fully clothed, fully erect, body rubbing. It was completely unexpected. One minute I’m in my jammies, changing the bedcovers and the next, Oliver was on top of me, bare mattress, fully covered arse. He didn’t speak, he didn’t kiss me, he just buried his face into my neck and breathed me, slowly grinding away as I ran my fingers up and down his back. It was one of the most fucking intense moments ever and now I’m a grinning fool, still sitting on the edge of an unmade bed.
Sunday February 19th
Molly Skyped with my parents and their new dog Daphne this afternoon and was surprisingly into the whole thing, given her recent dog hatred.
‘He’s so cute, Mum! He looks like he’s smiling.’
I placed her lunch in front of her, hoping she wouldn’t notice that I’d left the crusts on her sandwich. ‘I think Daphne is a girl,’ I replied. ‘It’s a girl’s name.’
‘Whatever. We should get one.’
Ugh. I fuckingknewit. I don’t want a bloody dog. I have enough to do. ‘A dog is a lot of work, Molly, and it’s not fair to leave them alone all day. Your Nana and Papa are retired; they can spend lots of time with her. Besides, only Canadian dogs smile. Scottish dogs are very grumpy.’
