Page 5 of The Fallback

‘Work is the usual. I’ve got a new post doc starting next week,’ she said, ‘which might shake things up a bit. Not like that!’ She swatted him across the table when she noticed the smirk on his face. ‘I meant that it’s always funny to see how the rest of the team react when a new person starts. Some of them will start posturing and others will fall apart at the prospect of any kind of competition. You remember what it’s like, how fragile scientists’ egos are.’

Mitch rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t remind me. I still have the occasional anxiety dream.’ He shuddered.

‘Anyway, this new post doc has written some really interesting papers so I’m excited to see what he can do if we give him some proper lab space and funding,’ Rosie said.

‘I couldn’t care less about his research,’ Mitch replied, propping his chin up on his hands and staring dreamily into Rosie’s eyes. ‘Tell me the important stuff: Is he hot? Is he single? Is he straight?!’ Rosie threw a beer mat at him.

‘Ow!’ he protested. ‘I’m really not interested in his academic credentials, I want to know whether he’s going to be your one!’ he said teasingly and ducked as she pretended to throw another mat at him.

‘Oh please,’ Rosie said, ‘I’ve told you before I never meet anyone through work – and don’t even start on this post doc, he’s far too young.’

‘Well what aboutoutsidework Rosie, you know there is a big wide world out here.’

‘Really? Random people don’t meet in a bar when they’re in their thirties.’ Mitch raised his eyebrow. ‘OK,’ she conceded, ‘You might, but I don’t.’ She gesticulated around the beer garden at the people on offer, and Mitch looked around and then shrugged his shoulders in agreement.

‘And I’m giving up with online dating. It’s too much admin with too little…’ She paused. ‘Actually cancel that, withzeroreturn.’

Not all of this was strictly true: yes, scientific research was not an obvious place to happen upon romance, and it was true that once she turned thirty, Rosie had stopped speaking to men in bars – not that she did a whole lot of that in her twenties, but there was at least the possibility that shemight. However, her position on dating apps was not entirely honest. In reality, she had deleted most of her profiles months ago. At the time she told herself it was while she got through a busy patch at work, but work had been quiet for weeks now and her profiles remained dormant.

Her reluctance to reactivate them was a result of several factors. Firstly, she hated the chat one had to go through just to try to work out whether someone was worth meeting. Secondly, she begrudged the amount of time she felt she needed to devote to going through messages when she could be doing something much more interesting. And finally, it was the ultimate disappointment she had felt each and every time she finally went on a date. Rosie knew she wasn’t going to meet the man of her dreams on one of these apps, so what was the point?

Mitch looked at her with a painfully soulful expression. ‘But you can’t just give up Rosie, the next person you swipe right on could be the one!’

Rosie tried to hide her smile. Mitch, ever the optimist, the eternal romantic, was always convinced that the next person he met not only could be the one butwouldbe the one. This was one of the reasons she loved him so much and one of the reasons their friendship really worked. It wasn’t that Rosie was a pessimist but her pragmatic approach to life and problems always appeared to be a glass half empty next to Mitch’s overflowing cup.

It was this that had drawn her to Mitch in the first place. That and the fact she was desperate for somewhere to live in London, fresh out of university, floundering in heartbreak. Completely spontaneously, Mitch had recently taken on the lease of a beautiful mansion block apartment just moments from Hyde Park. He had met the owner at a party, charmed them immediately and when they had asked if he would be interested in renting the place while they ‘went traveling to find themselves’ during a delayed mid-life crisis, Mitch had jumped at the chance, never bothering to find out how much the rent would be and whether he could afford it.

He couldn’t afford it, which was why he was so desperate to find another PhD student who would be willing to share the one-bed space. All of this was very Mitch, as Rosie would soon discover. But she got the bedroom and she didn’t much mind if Mitch turned what was supposed to be the sitting room into a bedroom for himself. And the result was perfect in two ways; firstly, they could both afford to live in this amazing place and secondly, they became best friends.

Rosie had hoped from their first meeting, all those years ago, in that grotty pub off the Strand (which Mitch seemed strangely nostalgic about and which they still went to when Covent Garden was heaving with tourists), that they would become friends. She had been so nervous about the move, about the job, about being in London single and friendless, but Mitch's easy manner and charm had made the conversion to London life seamless. Mitch just presumed everyone would be his friend so he didn’t think twice about including Rosie in all his plans. And now, almost all of her London friends were people she had met through Mitch.

That flatshare, and indeed working together, may have been a distant memory, but their friendship had endured. Mitch had swiftly moved on from academia, almost before the ink was dry on his PhD certificate. A certificate that it had been touch and go if he would ever receive. Mitch always told people that the only reason he had got it in the end was because of Rosie. And Rosie, being terrified of being drawn into a plagiarism scandal, would play it down entirely and change the subject swiftly anytime it came up.

Mitch was eminently more suited to the life he had gone on to as a journalist. As science correspondent on one of the national newspapers he could still claim he was using his science background, but Rosie knew that what he really relished was his role in breaking stories and being the one with all the connections. He was king of the roost, even if that roost was situated in the somewhat niche world of academia and science.

Mitch met new people through his work all the time: scientists, other journalists and a steady stream of new government officials. He had a strict policy never to mix work and pleasure. It was strict more in his referencing of it rather than in observation. Rosie had lost count of the number of times he had become romantically entangled with people he had met through work. Normally with hilarious (for Rosie) and sometimes disastrous (for Mitch) consequences. But he wasn’t selfish, it wasn’t justhisromantic life he considered, he was always trying to pair Rosie off with people. She had never forgiven him for the humiliating episode where she had finally agreed to meet his colleague for a coffee only to realise that the man in question was using this as a fishing exercise to find out more about Mitch.

‘I honestly didn’t know he was interested in me!’ Mitch had protested loudly. But the incident had put a dampener on her trust in Mitch’s judgement of suitable men. Ever since, Rosie had refused to meet anyone Mitch had suggested.

‘We should get going,’ Rosie said, drinking the rest of her glass of wine and nudging Mitch’s beer towards him. ‘Your mum won’t forgive you if you’re late.’

Mitch downed his pint and stood up. ‘Promise you won’t tell her?’ he asked.

Rosie nodded. ‘But you know the chances of her not finding out are slim to none?’

‘Come on,’ he said and pulled Rosie’s arm through his, ‘let’s get the interrogation over with.’

Jackie still lived in the two-bedroom flat in Chiswick that Mitch had grown up in. It was just a couple of streets back from the river and Mitch made Rosie walk the scenic route, which she didn’t mind. The Thames always looked beautiful in the sun, especially if you didn’t lean over the railings and notice the mud and the rats down below.

* * *

‘Mitch will do the washing up, won’t you Mitch?’ Jackie said, pulling Rosie to sit back down. Reluctantly, Mitch began to pile the plates up and then shot Rosie a murderous glance as he left the room. Rosie knew that this wasn’t because he was annoyed about having to do the washing up but more because he didn’t trust Rosie not to tell his mum about Tessa while he wasn’t in the room to defend himself. Actually, it was more that he didn’t trust his mum not to break down Rosie’s defenses and sniff out the story.

Jackie leaned forward and rubbed her right knee. ‘How is it feeling?’ Rosie asked with concern. Jackie had never been quite the same after she was hit by a drunk driver last year. Mitch and Rosie had been on holiday in Italy when they heard the news, and the memory of that phone call still made Rosie feel shaky. Mostly Jackie didn’t complain about it, but every so often Rosie would notice that she was walking with her stick more regularly, or that she needed to sit down a little more often. Rosie glanced at the corner of the dining room and saw that Jackie had propped her stick there.

‘I’m fine love, honestly. It just twinges every now and again. Don’t tell Mitch though, I know how he worries.’ Rosie knew that Mitch saw everything and would already have noticed that Jackie was more tired than usual. But she was happy to pretend to Jackie that she would keep her secret; one secret for Jackie and one for Mitch, she thought as she smiled and nodded.

‘Tell me what’s going on with Mitch and that girl Tessa?’ Jackie said, causing Rosie to start with alarm. There was no getting anything past Jackie, she might be in pain and tired but she had some sort of sixth sense when it came to Mitch. ‘They’ve split up, haven’t they?’ Jackie asked.

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