Page 70 of The Key to My Heart

Shauna gives my hand a squeeze. ‘She’s catching on, this girl,’ she says.

We drink our teas, in comfortable silence, and watch, together, wordlessly, as Jason chats up, as he always does, Piercings Girl, and Secretary (of Mr Affair notoriety) arrives, like clockwork, and waits inside, in the usual corner.

At the end of her break, Shauna stands, picks up her empty cup. ‘I’ll text you the restaurant details,’ she says. ‘And if I don’t see you, I’ll see you at my anniversary Saturday. You’re still coming?’

‘Wouldn’t miss it,’ I reply. ‘Can’t wait.’

‘Me either,’ she says, giving a weak smile, and I watch as she disappears inside Goode’s, her eyes, not once, leaving Secretary Girl, who sits alone.

Tom(Just):I’ve got two words for you, Foxes.

Tom(Just):Fucking.

Tom(Just):Starving.

Tom(Just):You around tonight? Wondered if you fancied Avocado Clash? They do takeaways now. (shocked emoji)

Me:Omg, DO THEY? But does the guac still come in the hollowed-out dead cartoon avocados?

Me:And I can’t, Thomas! I’m off to dinner (no surprises this time) with NJ.

Me:(Notebook Joe, if you hadn’t guessed.)

Tom(Just):Wow. He’s catching on.

Me:My idea. (Cringe emoji)

Tom(Just):Ah! Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, pal. At the anniversary party from hell.

Me:Haha, you’ll survive. There will be no crocodiles present. Or declarations of love either.

Tom(Just):Ha. Thank Christ.

Tom(Just):And have a good time tonight.

Tom(Just):With LSD.

Tom(Just):(Little Surfer Dude, if you hadn’t guessed.)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Shauna was right. And this is why Shauna, as far as I’m concerned, is an oracle in hooped earrings. I’m having the nicest evening with Joe, and we’ve only just finished eating our starter – a shared meze, with the freshest bread I think I have ever sunk my teeth into. This restaurant by the Thames is exactly like Shauna described. Quiet and tucked away, with low ceilings and wood-ovens on show, and it has a perfect view of the river, which sits still and inky, beside us, on the outdoor terrace. It’s a beautiful evening, autumnal, but not too cold. Glowing heaters nestled under the parasols of every table take the edge off. Shauna didn’t quite mention how romantic this place was, though, with its fairy lights and lanterns and moonlit river, and if she had, I might not have booked a table. Might have worried Joe thought I was too keen, too forward. But still, I’m glad I did. Because I can’t remember the last time I got dressed up and went out for dinner. It was something I used to do all the time, especially with Priya, Lucy and Roxanne, but we haven’t in a while. Since the brunch, there’s something between us, blocking us, prising us apart. Something that shotthrough a crack in the ground, that morning of my birthday, like a giant beanstalk.

‘I’m really glad we did this,’ I say as Joe pours me another glass of wine from the bottle we’re sharing. It’s the first alcoholic drink I’ve had in months. I’m sure even Roy next door has noticed, with his eagle recycling-obsessed eye, just as much as I have. ‘It’s just nice to just – chat. And chill. No edible flowers …’

‘No smelly rooms …’

‘No men with lips on your neck in queues.’

Joe chuckles, two dimples prodding his cheeks. He looks incredibly gorgeous tonight. No wonder Hollie seemed totally enamoured by him at the gig – the full lips, the glinting, hazel eyes. He’s wearing a pressed, white T-shirt tonight, a black blazer-style jacket over the top and he’s had a haircut – just a little shorter than normal, but perfectly beachy and styled.

‘Yeah, it’s nice,’ he says. ‘Lots of personal space. Where it counts.’

He holds up his glass, and I clink mine to it. We drink.

‘Natalie,’ Joe says, nervously, ‘I wanted to say sorry about the gig the other night.’

We’ve texted a bit, since the gig, but Joe and I haven’t mentioned that night. I wondered if he could tell I felt weird and sad and confused. That I left early because of it, and not some weird, sudden illness.

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