Kerry drops me back home at three, promising to call later. I plan to creep back into bed for an hour before Grace comes home, but Helen corners me in the hallway.
‘I can’t believe you haven’t let me know how your date with Tom went.’
‘Jeez, Helen, it was only last night. Give me a break.’
She places her hands on her hips and frowns. ‘That doesn’t answer my question. You didn’t blow it, did you?’
‘No! It was great. He’s really nice. We’ll be meeting up again.’
Her frown vanishes and her face explodes with happiness. ‘THAT’S WONDERFUL! I KNEW HE WAS THE MAN FOR YOU!’
‘Christ, calm down. He hasn’t proposed.’
‘Oh, I know. I’m just pleased you’re getting another date. It’s hopeful!’
‘Yeah, I suppose it is.’ I take the keys from my pocket and begin unlocking my front door. ‘We’ll see how it goes. What are you up to today?’
I turn around but she has already vanished back inside, presumably to excitedly report to Adam that her sister isn’t such a lost cause after all.
*
I’ve hit the mid-week blues and find myself ignoring three copywriting jobs I’m supposed to be finishing up in favour of drinking a frozen margarita I found at the back of my freezer while half watching an episode of Criminal Minds I’ve already seen. Secretly I know I’m distracted because it’s Thursday and Tom still hasn’t been in touch to arrange our next date. I’m becoming one of those women who might as well be pacing the streets of Glasgow, dressed in a sandwich board that reads: ‘WHY THE FUCK HASN’T HE CALLED?’ Should I text him? I have his number stored from the last text; I could easily drop him a ‘Hey, are we still on for this week?’ light-hearted, no pressure, dripping with desperation text . . . No, I’m not fucking allowed to, so what can I do?
I call Kerry.
‘He’s probably just busy. It happens. Call him.’
‘I’m not supposed to call him.’
She sighs loudly. ‘Get the book and tell me what it says.’
I grab my copy of The Rules of Engagement and turn to Rule 4 – ‘Don’t Harass Him.’
‘It says, “By texting or calling him every seven minutes, you’re telling him that you have nothing else going on in your sad life.”’
‘Ha ha, does it really say that? What else?’
I’m a little annoyed that she finds this all so funny. ‘“Stop making it easy for him. Let him do the work,”’ I continue. ‘This is so bloody clichéd. So, what? I should make it hard for him? Like go into hiding?’
‘You should challenge him.’
‘Challenge him to what? A duel? Turn my life into one long episode of Takeshi’s Castle? Is that challenging enough?’
Kerry snorts down the phone.
‘And what if I do call him? Would it really be so bad? What’s the worst that can happen? I interrupt him watching fucking Babestation?’
‘Calm down, Cat.’
I toss the book back on to the coffee table. ‘This bloody book is turning me into a prize idiot, and I still have very little to write about this week, other than Saturday’s uneventful dinner date. I need more!’
‘Listen, if he doesn’t call, then fuck him. I’m sure your editor will understand that you can’t force these things.’
‘No, forcing it is exactly what she’ll expect me to do.’
‘Right, well. Oh! Before I forget, Kieran and I are going to some actor’s birthday party in the West End on Saturday night. Do you have Grace?’
‘No, she’s at Peter’s. Which actor?’
