Page 7 of One Night in Edinburgh

‘Maybe not the best choice of language for a public event?’ I suggest as we approach the entry point to the street party, which is flanked by multiple security staff and uniformed police.

‘Good point…’ She eyes up one of them to our left, a good-looking, stocky man talking into his earpiece. ‘I find that so sexy, don’t you? It’s like he’s from MI5 or something.’

‘You watch too much crime drama.’ I nudge her with a smile as we wait to have our tickets checked, then enter the festive buzz of the street party.

‘Think I’m just finding any male with a pulse attractive right now. It’s been a while… if you know what I mean!’

‘Maybe I should have dropped off Mrs Carmichael’s “vibrating thing” at your place? Could have given you a loan.’

‘Ha, yeah, maybe,’ she smirks. ‘Anyway, sorry… back to you. Are you all right or are you putting on a brave face?’

‘Honestly… I don’t know.’ I shake my head absently. ‘I felt absolutely devastated when he left, but right now I’m just numb.’

‘That’s a perfectly natural reaction.’

‘All I can think about is our apartment, what’s going to happen next, and how I have no idea how to date or be with another guy, you know, like… sex. Apart from a teenage fumble in the woods that I’m not sure even counts, I’ve only ever done that with Connor.’

‘Well, I can help you with that.’ Anna looks at me with a wicked glint in her eye.

‘Whatever you have in mind, tone it down massively.’

‘How did you know I was thinking in numbers? I have twenty-seven notches on my bed post, which – by the calculation you’ve just given me – means you have at least another twenty-five men to sleep with.’

I laugh loudly. ‘That’s like the most inappropriate math problem ever. Imagine that had been on our high-school exam papers. Anyway, no thanks. The idea of adding even one notch is terrifying enough, never mind a couple of rugby teams. I don’t even know how people our age “do sex” because my experience originates from the noughties.’

‘You’ll be fine. You just need to give it a go. Tearing-each-other’s-clothes-off sex is like—’

‘Please don’t say, “like riding a bike”.’

Anna shrugs and grins. ‘No.That sounds dull. I was going to say it’s like finding your favourite gin. Nothing to do with the maturity of the product. It’s all about personal taste.’

‘Nice metaphor. Well, the most important point is that I’m nowhere near ready for anything like that. I’ve got a lot of healing to do.’

‘Fair enough.’

We wander along in silence, in contrast to the jubilant party atmosphere around us, and I know Anna’s trying to be respectful: allowing me space to deal with things my way, in the turmoil of my own mind. After two fresh replays of Connor’s exit, annotated with what I could or should have said, despite the fact it wouldn’t have made a blind bit of difference, I decide that my own mind is the last place I want to spend the New Year. I also remember Connor’s words about starting the year as we aim to go on.

‘Anna?’

‘Yes, Steph?’

‘Can we not talk about Connor or my breakup any more? Maybe for the whole night?’

‘Sure. If that’s what works for you.’

‘It is. Thanks.’

She catches my eye meaningfully. ‘You know you can bring it up at any point though. Even while we’re in adjoining toilet cubicles, or during the countdown to the bells… I’m here for you. Anything you need.’

‘I appreciate that.’ I squeeze her arm gently.

‘So, if you don’t want to talk about that, what do you want to do?’

I make a show of considering this. ‘I want to lose myself in the midst of this magical night, get a bit drunk and party hard.’

‘That’s my girl.’ Anna high-fives me. ‘Mulled wine to start?’

‘Let’s do it.’

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