Page 75 of The Do-Over

‘I’m sorry? Which bit of “he’s just a friend” did you not hear?’

‘Oh, I heard it, I just don’t believe it. I saw the way you looked at each other, the way you spoke to each other. There’s an easy intimacy there that goes way deeper than friendship. Plus, he’s patently nuts about you.’

‘What makes you say that?’ She’s alarmingly close to the truth, but there’s just enough lawyer left in me to know that you don’t crumble and reveal your hand just because someone has fired a single arrow in the right direction. It might just be a lucky fluke and the next one will go miles off target.

‘He was on your doorstep the first day he was allowed to contact you, and he’s had your back from the moment he arrived. That’s more than friendship. I don’t know what went on last night, and I don’t need to know, but if I’d accidentally spent the night with someone of the opposite sex who was purely a friend, I’d be a bit awkward about it the next morning, especially around my family. But not you. You and he were like an old married couple. Not quite finishing each other’s sentences, but even Phil remarked that you seemed very close.’

Not a lucky fluke then. I sigh. ‘Fine. He told me this morning that he’s in love with me.’

‘But that’s brilliant!’ Saffy exclaims. ‘He’s perfect for you.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because… Because lots of things, OK? He’s a friend, for starters.’

‘Tim is my best friend. He’s also my husband. So what?’

‘Plus he’s a lawyer.’

‘You used to be one of those.’

‘Exactly. Remember how I used to be? We’d never see each other. He belongs to my old life, the life I left behind.’

‘I’m not sure it’s that binary. What does it matter if he comes from your lawyer days? He loves you, and I think you probably feel more deeply for him than you admit to yourself. That’s a solid foundation to build on. The rest is just…’ She peters out and waves her hand expressively.

‘What?’ I ask.

‘Admin,’ Rebecca offers, evidently deciding to join in after all. ‘Yes, he might be away a lot, but that’s just life admin. You call each other when he’s away and you prioritise each other when he’s here. Saffy’s right. Don’t throw away a shot at happiness because of something as trivial as his work schedule. In fact, that makes you a really good match for him because, although it’s not your life any more, you do at least understand it.’

‘You two aren’t going to let this go, are you?’

‘No.’ Saffy’s tone is determined. ‘How did you leave things with him?’

‘He’s going to New York for two weeks with work. We’re going to talk when he gets back.’

‘Good. That gives us two weeks to make you see sense.’

The closer the train gets to London, the more nervous I feel. Saffy and Rebecca have been relentless over the last two weeks and, after countless hours picking over it, we’ve agreed that I should try to see Alasdair face to face rather than talking to him on the phone. The problem is, of course, that I don’t know where he’s going to be. I did contemplate trying to intercept him atthe airport, and I even briefly entertained a fantasy where I ran into his arms like a scene fromLove Actually, before I realised that I had no idea which flight he’d be on or even which airport it would come into. So I’ve decided to head for the Morton Lansdowne offices. I’ve planned a cock-and-bull story for the receptionist that will hopefully allow me to find out if he’s in the building. If he is, I’ll simply hang around until he appears. If he isn’t, then I’ll head for his flat. The Morton Lansdowne offices are a much more conducive place for waiting than the street where he lives and, if I’m lucky, I might even be able to wangle a free cup of coffee or two.

My heart is in my mouth as I approach the building that was my home for so many years. Despite it being the weekend, the place is as busy as ever and a constant stream of people are coming and going through the rotating doors. I can’t decide what I’m more nervous about; seeing someone who might recognise me or seeing Alasdair, so it takes me a moment to summon my courage and step inside. The low murmur of voices in the lobby, accompanied by the regular ping of the elevators, is both familiar and unsettling. ‘You don’t belong here any more,’ they seem to be saying, and I can feel my nerve failing me. I’m standing like a rabbit frozen in the headlights, trying to decide whether to press ahead or flee, when a familiar voice calls my name.

‘Thea! It is you,’ Janice says warmly, striding over and giving me a hug before holding me at arm’s length and openly appraising me. ‘You look well. Your new life patently suits you.’

‘Thanks, Janice,’ I tell her. ‘How are you?’

‘Oh, same old, same old,’ she tells me with a smile. ‘Junior partners keep me busy. You know how it is. What brings you here?’ She lowers her voice. ‘You haven’t come to ask for your job back, have you?’

‘No,’ I reassure her. ‘I was hoping to catch Alasdair, actually.’

‘Really?’ Her face lights up. ‘Come to your senses at last, have you?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Oh, come on. This is me you’re talking to. Do you seriously think I didn’t spot the connection between you at John Curbishley’s funeral? Or that Alasdair seemed to have increasing numbers of ants in his pants the closer he got to the end of your contact embargo? I take it he did contact you?’

‘He did,’ I admit.

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