‘Okay,’ she said, sighing. ‘Whatever. I guess it must be, then.’

‘I really am sorry, Debs. But at least you’re not going on your own – Sarah’s going as well, isn’t she?’

‘Yes, she is. Not quite the same though.’

The line hummed between us for a moment. I almost crumbled, told her I would go with her to watch her work colleague perform with his band, just the way I’d promised. But then I imagined how upset Jim would be if I was out when he rang, and I held my tongue.

‘Have fun, then.’

‘I will.’

The line went dead, and I felt a heavy weight settle in my belly. I hated letting Debbie down, but I was fully aware I was doing it more and more these days. And Debbie was right, Jimwasdue home tomorrow. I just had to hope she’d understand.

I swallowed down the pebble of doubt lodged in my throat, and switched on the TV, where a new programme calledBrush Strokeswas playing, and tried not to think about how guilty I felt for choosing a man over my friends – something we always promised we’d never do, no matter what.

The canned laughter from the TV washed over me as I thought about the number of times I’d seen my friends in the last few months. We used to go out at least once a week, for drinks or dinner, a trip to the cinema, picnics in the park. Being scattered across London meant it was important for us to make a regular arrangement to get together. But since I’d met Jim over a year ago, the times I’d actually made it to one of our catch-ups had dwindled so much that now I couldn’t actually remember the last time I’d seen all of my friends together.

I told myself it was all right, that wanting to spend all my time with the person I was falling in love with was perfectly normal, and that my friends would forgive me. But the truth was, I was worried I’d already lost most of them. There were only so many times you could let someone down before they started to wonder whether you were worth fighting for.

Yet there was something about Jim that made me want to be there with him. Although at first the three or four nights he was away every week made it easier to see my friends, as time passed it became trickier, as he began ringing at awkward times in the evenings, so that, if I didn’t want to miss him, I had to make sure I was at home to take his call.

‘You know you will survive if you don’t speak to him every single day, don’t you?’ Debbie had said one day after I’d cancelled yet another night out.

‘Of course I do,’ I’d snapped, and luckily Debbie had left it at that. The trouble was, I knew she was right. I knew I was being pathetic and needy – and yet it seemed important to Jim, and so it was important to me.

The sound of the phone ringing made me jump and I reached over to the side table and snatched up the receiver, turning the volume down on the TV at the same time.

‘Jim?’

There was a crackle, and a beep, and then a tinny recorded voice started speaking:

Hello. This is an automated message.

I slammed the phone down before it could get any further, and sat back.Brush Strokeshad finished andThe Billtheme tune had started. I checked my watch. It was already after eight, and Jim had said he’d ring around dinner time. I sighed, pushed myself up to standing and took my dirty plate through to the kitchen, scraping the rest of the congealed baked beans into the bin. I might be a chef, but I still hated cooking for just me and often settled for something easy. I opened the fridge and found half a bottle of Chardonnay and poured myself a large glassful, then took it back through to the living room. I sat on the sofa, and tried to concentrate on what DI Galloway was saying on the TV, but I couldn’t focus so I wandered back into the kitchen and refilled my empty wine glass, then went back to wait for the phone to ring again. WherewasJim? Probably out with colleagues, or working late. Why else wouldn’t he have rung when he said he would?

It occurred to me that Jim had never actually given me his work number. In fact, now I thought about it, I wasn’t entirely sure what the company he worked for was even called. All I knew was that it was a big hotel chain, and although he’d no doubt told me once, it had never occurred to me that I’d need to know any more details. After all, he rang me every day, so it wasn’t as though I actually needed to call him – as he said, he was busy working most of the time so it was easier this way.

As the minutes ticked by I found myself becoming more and more agitated. I’d stayed in tonight, let my friends down again, because he’d told me he had something important to talk to me about. Now it was almost ten o’clock and I was sitting here like a lemon, still waiting for him to ring.

I could hear laughter from the flat upstairs, and a pang of sadness bolted through me. I stood and walked to the window. For London, this street was quiet. But there were still signs of life, couples walking home arm in arm, friends laughing, people chatting.

And here I was, alone.

I refilled my glass and went to run a bath. Even though I felt cross, I took the phone off the cradle and carried it through with me, resting it on the closed toilet lid before lowering myself into the scalding-hot water. As I lay back, I shut my eyes and let my mind drift.

How had I become so isolated from the world? Apart from when I was at work, I barely saw anyone apart from Jim. I missed having someone to call when I was feeling down. Debbie was brilliant but I knew she didn’t trust Jim so I tried not to talk about him too much. I thought about Mum, too. It had been months since she’d last rung me, the longest we’d ever gone without speaking. Although we’d had a strained relationship since she’d shacked up with Brian, she’d still always been there for me when I needed her. Now, though, I wasn’t so sure she’d want to hear from me, and it broke my heart. I let out a long sigh.

Suddenly, the phone pealed loudly. I sat up so quickly that water and bubbles sluiced over the side of bath, soaking the bathroom floor. I quickly dried my hands on a towel, and snatched up the handset.

‘Hello?’ I said breathlessly.

‘Hey, gorgeous, it’s me.’

Jim. At last.

‘Hey,’ I said, reaching for a towel and quietly stepping out of the bath as I cradled the handset between my cheek and shoulder.

‘What are you up to?’ he said.