His handsome face, his voice... here, at long last, was a man who could be described with some degree of certainty as “husband material.”
Mummy was going to be thrilled. At the office, there was that palpable sense of Friday joy,
everyone colluding with the lie that somehow the weekend would be amazing and that, next week, work would be different, better.
They never learn. For me, though, things had changed. I had not slept well, but despite that, I was feeling good, better, best.
People say that when you come across “the one,” you just know.
Everything about this was true, even the fact that fate had thrown him into my path on a Thursday night,
and so now the weekend stretched ahead invitingly, full of time and promise.
One of the designers was finishing up today—as usual, we’d be marking the occasion with cheap wine and expensive beer, crisps dumped in cereal bowls.
With any luck, it would start early, so I could show my face and still leave on time. I simply had to get to the shops before they closed.
I pushed open the door, the chill of the air-con making me shudder, even though I was wearing my jerkin.
Billy was holding court. He had his back to me, and the others were too engrossed to notice me slip in.
“She’s mental,” he said. “Well, we know she’s mental,” Janey said, “that was never in doubt. The question is, what did she do this time?”
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