Page 21 of Who’s That Girl?

‘Yes, I think so…’ I nod, though to be honest I’m not sure. In fact, I’m not sure of anything any more. I change the subject. ‘Anyway, I didn’t come here to talk about me, how are you?

She screws up her forehead and pretends to think. ‘Good, I think. I’m a stay-at-home mother who lives in a world of bath times, tantrums and dirty nappies. I gave up my job and my life to make orange gloop. Need I say more?’ A spoon in each hand, she smiles wryly, then continues alternating orange gloop and pasta between two hungry mouths.

‘Yeah, but you love being a mum,’ I counter.

‘True.’ She smiles, turning to me, her face lit up. ‘My kids are the best thing. I can’t imagine life without them …’ She breaks off uncomfortably as she catches my eye, and the smile slips from her face. For the briefest moment, a look passes between us. ‘But I’m glad I waited until my thirties to have them,’ she adds quickly.

She glances away and there’s an awkward pause.

I fill it by changing the subject. ‘Anyway, you hated your job,’ I point out. Vanessa used to work in the solicitors’ firm next to my office. That’s how she met Julian, her husband. ‘You said you couldn’t wait to leave.’

‘True.’ She nods, breaking into a huge smile at Ruby, who’s laughing hysterically as she smears orange gloop over her brother.

‘You threw a resignation party,’ I continue.

‘And you couldn’t come,’ she remarks, shooting me a look.

‘I was on a deadline.’

‘When aren’t you on a deadline?’ she counters.

I open my mouth to protest, then close it again. Actually, come to think of it, I can’t remember a life before deadlines.

‘Gosh, that was a great party.’

I look back at Vanessa, who’s gone all dreamy-eyed. ‘We had over a hundred people squeezed into the old house. I was pregnant and couldn’t drink and so Julian made me Virgin Marys …’ She smiles wistfully, her mind wandering back to that night over three years ago. ‘Anyway, back to you, are you certain this Thompson chap made a pass?’ she asks, returning to the beginning of our conversation. ‘I’m not saying he didn’t, but you said you couldn’t be sure.’

‘True,’ I admit. ‘In fact, the more I think about it, I’m almost certain I made a mistake.’

‘And you got the contract, which is what you wanted, isn’t it?’

‘True.’ I nod.

‘So don’t look so worried,’ she reassures.

‘I’m not,’ I reply, quickly uncreasing my forehead.

Well, OK, I am a bit, but I’m not going to admit it.

‘Really?’ Vanessa looks surprised. ‘That’s not like you. Usually you worry about everything.’

‘I wouldn’t say everything,’ I say, a little miffed.

‘You worry about being worried,’ she points out, smiling.

‘That’s not true!’ I say defensively.

‘What about when we were celebrating your birthday and we bought all that champagne? And as we were about to open it, you got worried the cork was going to pop out and blind someone …?’

‘Well, it could have,’ I protest. ‘I was just being careful.’

‘Yelling “Duck!” and diving for cover?’

I blush. ‘OK, so maybe I was a little overcautious, but those corks can be dangerous. They can take an eye out,’ I argue, but I don’t think Vanessa is listening.

‘And what about the time we went to that spa hotel for my hen weekend and we were all having fun by the pool and you lay in the shade and refused to join in because you were worried you were going to slip and bang your head and kill yourself.’

‘Accidents can still happen,’ I warn her.