I started to laugh. ‘At least you got away for a few days. I’d kill for a holiday.’
She shook her head. ‘This wasn’t a holiday. This was an exercise in not losing your shit when you have to queue for an hour to sit on a twirling teacup in sub-zero temperatures.’
She filled up the teapot and placed it down on the table before rummaging around for biscuits, while I filled her in on my incredibly dull New Year, including my current predicament.
‘Am I being unreasonable?’ I asked, hoping not only that she’d have some wisdom to impart but also that she had something other than custard creams. The smell of them made me sick during my pregnancy and I’ve never fully recovered.
‘You know, Kevin and I went through something similar, when Grace was two,’ she began, retrieving some cleverly hidden, single-finger Twix from the back of a cupboard. ‘We actually went to counselling.’
‘WHAT?!’ I replied. ‘You never told me any of this!’
‘Yeah, Kevin made me promise not to discuss it . . . so you cannot say a word! But it helped us. We’d lost the passion. It happens.’
‘And now?’
She grinned. ‘Let’s just say we’re back on track and it’s easier for us to talk about it when we’re not. I’d give you the name of our therapist but he retired a year or so ago.’
‘That’s OK,’ I replied, pouring some tea. ‘I think I know someone who could help.’
Monday January 16th
I watched a couple of strangers flirt on the tube this morning. In fact, I think the whole carriage was aware of the spark between them. I don’t think anyone would have been surprised if they just mounted each other there and then. I won’t lie, it made me pine for something. For that feeling of lust that makes you repeatedly stare at someone until they stare back or have you arrested.
The snow has finally fucked off which made my walk to the office slightly less treacherous. It never fails to amaze me, the women I see in heels trying to negotiate ice and slush, like having sexy shoes makes you immune from sliding in public. Or from the effects of gravity.
Kelly was already in the office, eating something that definitely wasn’t made by nature. It looked like it was made by Greggs. Her face went into full panic mode when she saw me.
‘Do not tell anyone you saw this,’ she begged, wiping the crumbs off her shirt. ‘I was starving.’
‘My lips are sealed,’ I reassured her. ‘But seriously. Fuck what anyone else thinks. You enjoy that . . . is that a pie?!’
She nodded, stuffing the last piece into her mouth.
I wish I had a pie.
*
Ten minutes later, Lucy and Brian appeared, quickly followed by Dorothy who was keen to start the morning meeting and make us all feel shitty that we were behind target for the month.
‘We need to work on new business, people! And don’t tell me that you can’t just magic it out of thin air because it already exists; I’ve just torn it out of our competitors’ publications and placed it on your desk. I will be adding incentives to the board for anyone who brings in new business.’
This meant wine. It always meant wine.
With Brian first on the phones to claim his weekend ‘carry out’, I decided to quiz Lucy on my conversation with Hazel.
From:Phoebe Henderson
To:Lucy Jacobs
Subject: Idea
Hazel suggested Oliver and I go for some couples therapy. Was going to call Pam Potter. What do you think?
x
From:Lucy Jacobs
To:Phoebe Henderson
