Page 48 of Take a Moment

Several hours later, as we’re returning from our trip to the Jewellery Quarter, I feel myself flagging, which triggers doubts about how I’ll manage a night out as well. Other than a couple of reasonably short Friday after-work drinks sessions with my team, this is the first time I’ve tried to be active through the day and also well into the evening. And it’s the first weekend since starting my new job that I’m not going to have a significant rest period. It plays on my mind: particularly how I’ll be on Monday after it all. This annoys me. What was it Emmanuel said? Just go have fun.

As we reach my apartment and let ourselves in, I feel my eyelids drooping.

‘Don’t know about you, but I’m quite beat,’ Sasha declares. ‘Shall we have a siesta?’

I’m unsure whether she’s picked up on how I’m feeling, whether she’s just playing it safe, or whether she really is tired herself. At this point I really don’t care. I need to lie down, before I fall down.

By 7:30 p.m., Sasha and I are glammed up and waiting to be served in the bar in which I bumped into Matt. It’s just as busy as last time, full of workers in corporate outfits, but thankfully I’m feeling much fresher after my ninety-minute not-so-power-nap.

‘What are you having?’ Sasha raises her voice over the music and the lively after-work chat in the bar.

‘Gin and Fevertree, please. And a glass of tap water.’

‘Sure thing. So… is he here?’

‘We’ve just got here. Give me a chance.’ I shake my head at her overzealousness. ‘Anyway, that’s a side task for this evening. If I bump into him then I’ll say hello. I’m not committing to anything else.’

‘But you agreed.’

‘I agreed to be more open-minded. And not rule out dating for the rest of my existence. That’s all.’

‘That’s as good as agreeing to go out with him.’

‘Not sure where you get that logic from.’ I gesture towards a woman in too-high heels tentatively leaving the bar, trying not to spill the four champagne cocktails on the tray she’s holding. ‘Quick, claim your space.’

Sasha expertly dodges into the eighteen-inch opening that’s appeared at the bar. As I stand behind her waiting for her to be served, my eyes roam around the room. I try to convince myself I’m just soaking up the atmosphere, but I’m kidding myself. Much as I’m resisting Sasha’s puppy-like excitement, she’s made me consider things from a different perspective and see that my application of my ‘new life’ rules has been inconsistent. Itistotally unrealistic to think I can happily trot along through life in full celibacy. I was getting married before my body committed the ultimate betrayal and I still want that – with the right guy. I’m adamant that I’m going to live as normal a life as possible. So why did that vision not include a relationship, possibly even marriage?

This realisation has ignited something in me. I want that date with Matt. It doesn’t need to mean anything at this stage. I can just have some fun and use it as an opportunity to get back into the dating scene.

As I scan the room, it becomes clear that Matt’s not here. It’s now chucking down domestic pets outside, so it’s not likely he’s in the outdoor seating area either. I feel a twinge of disappointment. What if it was complete coincidence that I ran into him before? What if I never do so again? My problem-solving brain immediately steps in to answer this: in that case you’ll move on and meet someone else.

I decide I’m not satisfied with this answer and refocus my attention on Sasha, who’s now being served. She passes my drink back to me and we make our way across the bar to see if we can find a seat. Luckily there’s a group just leaving, so we’re able to commandeer one end of their table.

‘Is he here?’ Sasha asks me again.

‘No, he’s not,’ I confirm, instead of trying to deny I was even looking. ‘Not that I can see anyway.’

‘That’s a shame. Maybe he’ll still turn up.’

‘Doubt it. It’s a bit late to come from work. He might not be out at all tonight. Or is somewhere else.’

‘Hey, how about we play detective and try and track him down?’ she suggests.

‘You mean stalker-style?’ I raise a judgemental eyebrow.

‘What? No.But you want to run into him again, don’t you?’

I let out a small groan as I sip at my drink. ‘Fine. You win.’ I relay some details while she taps them into her notepad app and stares at them thoughtfully.

‘OK, Sherlock. What do you deduce from the information I’ve given you?’

Sasha looks thoughtful. ‘Well… the most obvious lead to follow is his job. Let’s see if we can find him on LinkedIn.’

She opens up her mobile web browser and types ‘Matt Manufacturing Engineer Birmingham’ into Google. The search quickly returns a list of results.

‘Look, Lex. There’s quite a few.’ She clicks into the first one. ‘Is that him?’

‘Does that look like the kind of man I would be interested in? Think thirty years younger and one hundred per cent less grey hair.’

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