Page 15 of Who’s That Girl?

Someone who must now be living in London. Someone who must look a lot like I used to when I was twenty-one, I decide, feeling a flash of jubilant triumph. See. I knew there had to be a rational explanation.

As I drive off, I glance in my rear-view mirror, but the Beetle has already disappeared. It must have turned off somewhere, I muse idly, sailing across the intersection. And there was me beginning to think—

I catch myself. Well, let’s just say I was beginning to think all kinds of silly nonsense.

As usual Beatrice is waiting for me with an outstretched cup of coffee. ‘Morning,’ she trills chirpily.

‘Morning.’ Scooping up my coffee, I march over to my desk, turn on my computer and start checking my emails. ‘Any messages?’

‘Larry Thompson’s people called to apologise that he’s running late for lunch – I’ve changed the reservation to two p.m. – but he’s very excited about meeting you.’ She beams and crosses her fingers.

‘Anything else?’

‘Oh, and Miles called.’

I look up, surprised. Miles never calls me at the office – he knows how busy I am. Plus he was supposed to be flying up to Leeds this morning. I feel a flicker of worry.

‘Is he OK?’ I ask, going from zero to panic in less time than it takes to say ‘accident and emergency’.

‘Yes, fine,’ breezes Beatrice. ‘He’d just landed.’

Immediately I relax.

‘He said he tried calling you this morning but couldn’t get through to you on your mobile.’

‘Oh, God, I probably forgot to turn it on,’ I groan, digging it out of my pocket. ‘I was in a bit of a rush this morning.’ I glance at the screen. That’s funny – it is on. I mustn’t have been able to get any reception. Like yesterday, I remember. ‘He should have tried me on my business phone,’ I think out loud.

‘He did. He couldn’t get through on that either.’

‘Really? How odd.’ Puzzled, I now look at my other phone. But no, that’s on too, and there are five bars of reception.

‘They’re called dropped calls,’ says Beatrice knowledgeably. ‘Apparently, they are a growing problem because of the sheer volume of people using mobile devices. In fact, I read in a scientific paper that the number continues to grow at an exceptional rate and it’s been predicted that in a few years there will be more than one and a half billion wireless-device users worldwide—’

‘What did Miles say?’ I interrupt hastily, before I’m quoted the entire scientific report.

But she’s mid-flow. ‘Although technically for it to be a dropped call I think you have to be actually cut off in the middle of a call, rather than not be able to get through at all, but essentially it’s the same thing – too much phone traffic …’ She trails off as she catches my eyes, and blushes. ‘Oh, right, yes, sorry, Miles …’ Scrambling for her jotter pad, she solemnly reads, ‘“Has just had word from a contact that an amazing house is about to come on the market and wants to make sure you’ll be free to go and look at it with him when he gets back.”’ She looks up, her eyes shining. ‘Are you two moving in together?’

‘Well, we’ve talked about it,’ I say, suddenly feeling a bit awkward.

‘Golly, how exciting.’

‘Er, yes, isn’t it?’

To be honest, I’m feeling slightly taken aback. It suddenly all feels very real, and not some far-off plan we talk about every now and again over a bottle of red wine and some mixed olives.

‘Apparently, they can’t get the keys until Thursday, but fortunately I’ve already checked the diary and managed to move a meeting with a beauty editor, so now there’s nothing in the diary for that lunchtime,’ Beatrice is chattering away. ‘I called him back to confirm that you’ll meet him there at one o’clock.’

‘Wow. Ms Efficiency.’ I laugh.

‘Well, I do try.’ She beams, handing me a Post-it note. ‘This is the address.’

I look at it feeling slightly dazed. Beatrice has the neatest handwriting and yet the address seems to swim in front of my eyes. I take a much-needed gulp of coffee.

‘You and Miles are like the most perfect couple. That’s the kind of relationship I aspire to.’

‘You do?’ I look back at Beatrice, clutching her jotter pad to her chest, her face all wistful.

‘Absolutely,’ she exclaims, nodding vigorously. ‘You’re both so successful and attractive, and you have these exciting designer lives.’