Page 3 of Someone Like You

‘I never liked Winnie,’ she says with a scowl.

‘No kidding?’ I say sarcastically. ‘You’ve never said anything.’

We lock eyes, holding each other’s gaze, then chuckle. Freya is the nicest person I’ve ever met and for her not to like someoneandadmit it is a huge deal.

‘I can’tbelievehe was going to propose to her after only six months. And can you imagine having her as a pseudo sister-in-law for the rest of our lives?’ she asks. ‘Christmases, birthdays, holidays…’

‘God no. It was bad enough hanging out with her.’

‘Ornothanging out, as it were,’ retorts Freya. Winnie didn’t exactly like socialising with us. Throughout their entire relationship, Raff and I rarely got together outside of work.

‘What are you two gossiping about?’ CiCi enters carrying a picked-over platter of antipasto.

‘Nothing,’ I reply.

‘Winnie,’ Freya replies immediately after. If Freya were a Viking in a former life – a possibility considering her heritage – she’d be ‘Freya the Benevolent and Guileless’, as she’s a stalwart of kindness and honesty.

‘Horse-faced cow,’ CiCi mutters under her breath, but still loud enough for us to hear.

‘CiCi! That’s not very nice. It’s not her fault she looks like that,’ scolds Freya. As I said – kind, but also honest.

CiCi chuckles. ‘Fine, that wasn’t the nicest thing to say. But ending things with our Raff the way she did – and by bloody text message!SurelyI’m entitled to call her a cow after that?’

‘Hmm – fair, I suppose,’ Freya concedes.

‘And you disliked her as much as I did,’ adds CiCi, wagging her finger at Freya.

‘Also fair,’ says Freya.

‘Okay, so none of us could stand her – are we all in agreement?’ I ask, eliciting self-aware laughter from them both.

I’ve lived in England eight years, and I love it, but I still don’t understand the convoluted way people express themselves here – all that understatement and politeness. CiCi is one of the few English people I know who tells it like it is – maybe the only one.

‘Agreed,’ says CiCi, ‘and if I ever see that little trollop again, I’ll?—’

‘Okay, okay…’ I interject before she starts plotting revenge on Winnie. She may be sixty-something and only five-two, butIwouldn’t cross her.

‘Actually, I’ve been thinking…’ says Freya. She trails off like usual, leaving her thought incomplete and us hanging.

‘About?’ I prod.

‘Matching Raff,’ she replies in a conspiratorial whisper.

Ah, of course. Freya is a professional matchmaker, Raff is our closest friend, and he’s been moping about ever since Winnie ended their relationship. I should have seen this coming.

And it’s not aterribleidea.

‘But you’ve been a matchmaker for years. Why now?’ asks CiCi, eyeing Freya curiously.

‘Because ofthat,’ Freya whispers, her arm extended towards the living room. ‘Raff was putting on a brave face just now, but you could tell it still hurts – the breakup.’

‘Hmm,’ CiCi murmurs, a concerned frown nestling on her face.

‘And think about it,’ Freya continues. ‘Normally, Raff would start seeing someone new within a week – maybe two – but it’s beenages.’

‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Three months – give or take.’

‘Exactly. He’s obviously still devastated by what Winnie did and if I can help in any way, then…’ She trails off again, looking between me and CiCi.

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