Page 25 of The Love Hack

Was it? I didn’t know. But I did know that the giddy happiness I’d seen in my sister when she and Zack were first engaged seemed to have faded now that the reality of marriage was actually upon her.

‘Am,’ I whispered back, conscious of Zack just a few feet away, ‘You know, if you’re not sure, it’s not too late to… you could always…’

But before she could answer, Zack called her name from inside and she turned away from me, the door closing behind her with a click that sounded like the most final click in the entire history of clicks.

TEN

Dear Adam

I really fancy this girl I work with. Let’s call her girl A. She’s everything I’m looking for in a woman – cute, smart, and thoughtful. Unfortunately, I just can’t help blushing and getting all tongue-tied every time I look at her. And it seems she has the same problem – although I’ve got to admit she looks a whole lot better when she blushes than I do. She scrubs up seriously well too – just the other night I saw her for the first time with make-up on and wearing a party dress, and – phwoar!

But that’s not the only problem. On said night, I messed up really badly and kissed another girl. Maybe we should call her girl B? It wouldn’t have been a problem, because I’m single after all and as far as I know so is Girl B. But what I didn’t know was that Girl A was there that night, and she and Girl B (still with me?) were out together in the same group.

Told you I messed up. Question is, what on earth do I do now?

Ross, Dalston

Dear Ross

I gazed at the picture of Adam on my phone. There he was, same as always, with his high fade and his neatly trimmed beard, leaning his chin on the heel of his hand, thoughtfully sucking a pencil. Every week, some graphic designer added a different bit of cartoony art to the picture to make it look different – today Adam had a thought bubble coming out of his head with a few hearts and a mathematical equation in it.

Only problem was, Ross didn’t have a problem. Gazing at Adam’s Max! column on my phone, I’d simply invented the problem I wished Ross had – and I was totally unable to imagine what Adam’s response to it might be.

Wearily, I chucked my phone down on the duvet cover next to me and stood up. It was Friday afternoon. I’d had the day off work and spent it having a manicure with Amelie and her other bridesmaids, then inspecting the wedding reception venue with Mum, who was having a last-minute panic about the tablecloths and napkins not being exactly the same shade of rose gold.

‘It looks almost beige to me in this light, Lucy,’ she’d fretted. ‘Do you think we should ask Amelie what she thinks?’

‘Definitely not. She’ll only panic and it’s too late to do anything about it. No one’s going to be looking at table napkins anyway, come on, Mum.’

In a few minutes, Dad would be here to collect me and my bridesmaid’s dress, which was hanging on the back of my wardrobe encased in plastic, and take us to the hotel. Everything was packed and ready. My spare keys were with a neighbour, who was feeding Astro the next day and Sunday morning.

It all felt very final, somehow. It wasn’t me getting married – I had no justification for this sense of seismic shifting, of the end of an era. But it felt that way anyway. As of tomorrow, Amelie would be a married woman. I’d no longer be the closest person to her in the world. Of course, the process of her moving away from me had started long ago, probably even before she met Zack and certainly by the time they’d moved in together and got engaged.

But now it would be more than a gradual process – it would be a done deal. My sister would have two rings on her finger instead of just one, and she’d be heading off on honeymoon and then to live with Zack in New York, where he’d been seconded with work, for six months.

It would be the longest I’d ever gone without seeing her. She’d have all the excitement of a new city, a new husband, a new apartment to turn into a temporary home.

I’d have my own life, carrying on just the same, only without the presence of my sister just a Tube journey away.

I should have felt happy for her. I did feel happy for her. But I felt a deep, selfish, hollow sense of loss for myself.

A buzz from the bed next to me and the sudden illumination of my phone’s screen interrupted my glum introspection. It was Dad come to pick me up, fifteen minutes early. I leaped off the bed, threw the last of my things into my bag, kissed Astro and ran downstairs, too rushed and excited now to think that the next time I saw my flat and my cat, my sister would be married and everything would have changed.

Since she was a little girl, Amelie had been clear what kind of a wedding she wanted. Admittedly, that idea had changed numerous times over the years – from marrying a prince in a magic castle to a secret elopement to being barefoot in a field with lambs grazing nearby (she was dating a student vet at the time; I expect he could have told her that the reality of lambs was a lot less romantic than her idea of them).

But since getting engaged to Zack, her dreams had settled on a London hotel, the flasher the better. My parents could never have stretched to that, but fortunately Zack could, and it was his vision of the perfect venue too. So later that evening, I found myself stepping out of a lava-hot shower into a room that, while nowhere near as large and luxurious as the bridal suite my sister and brother-in-law-to-be occupied, was way posher than anywhere I’d ever stayed before.

The bathroom was all done up in marble, with gold taps. The bed was huge and covered by a duvet so smooth and white it looked like snow had fallen on it. Through the heavy drapes on the windows, I could see glimpses of a rose garden three floors below. On the table by the telly, there was a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, and I resolved to treat myself to a glass while I got ready to go down for dinner.

But I didn’t get the chance. While I was rooting around in my bag for my make-up, there was a soft tap on the door. Mum come to discuss some last-minute emergency, I thought. Or Nush offering me her hair straighteners. Or Amelie, saying she’d forgotten her eyelash curlers (as if I’d be able to help with that).

But, when I opened the door, wrapped only in a towel, it was Bryony I saw standing smiling expectantly at me.

At least, I immediately assumed it was Bryony – her twin sister had even less of a reason to come calling on me than she did.

‘Hi, Lucy!’ she reached over to hug me like we were best friends, but when I raised my own arms my towel came adrift and I had to clutch at it, aborting the hug. ‘Isn’t this fabulous! I’m so excited! Are you excited?’

‘Yes!’ I tried to copy her giddy, friendly tone. ‘Really excited! Come in!’

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