the zip done up, him in his anorak.
‘Would you like a cup of tea and a bun?’ he offered politely.
I snuffled a little. ‘Yes, please.’
We sat together in the café rather awkwardly, surrounded by rich shouty women. I wondered if people were looking at us and speculating on what kind of relationship we had: I always did. Or maybe it was obvious he was my non-friend’s fiancé’s bitter little brother.
I looked a bit more presentable after I managed to get rid of the worst of the mascara with a wrinkle-creating rub, brushed my hair upside down, and shrugged back into my navy blue trouser suit – the one that almost made me look like my arse didn’t stick out, although it did make me look flat-chested, and if I buttoned it up it was a bit Pee-wee Herman.
‘Do you usually buy your mother lingerie?’
‘No, I was just pissing about. I never know what to get her, so I drift about hoping something fantastic will leap out at me – then end up getting her a bath mat or something.’
I knew that feeling. I didn’t know how many Delia Smith books my mother could take, but she was bearing up manfully.
‘Why don’t you and Fraser club together; send her on a cruise, maybe?’
‘I don’t know … How much money do you spend on your mother?’
‘Hmm, well, about thirty pounds, I suppose.’
‘Oh.’
There was a long pause, during which I started to worry in case I’d insulted his mother: I knew what the Scots were like. And just what I needed, too: to upset someone else in the world. I was losing a popularity contest with the ebola virus.
He frowned. ‘That would get her about halfway into the Camden canal then?’
‘Well, she is a bit of an old boot.’
He laughed at my utterly shit joke, which made me realize that he was feeling as uncomfortable as I was.
‘Yes, I don’t spend thirty pounds lightly,’ I went on.
‘I know. I could tell by those pink trousers.’
I smiled for the first time all day.
‘Oh, thanks for the fashion tip, Anorak Man.’
He half smiled.
‘What?’ I demanded.
‘Oh, nothing.’
‘What? Is it, like, a magic anorak?’
‘No.’ But he was grinning now.
‘Yes, it is, isn’t it? It’s a magic anorak that gives you – oh, I don’t know, a supernatural ability to notate trains.’
‘Hff. Actually, my lovely anorak is North Sea standard issue. I had to go see the BP people today and they take you more seriously if they think you just got out of the helicopter.’
‘Wow, you’ve been in a helicopter?’ D’oh. Who was I – Amanda?
‘Yes,’ he said seriously, ‘just like Noel Edmonds.’
‘Well, I didn’t know you got to go in helicopters. I thought you went down pipes and stuff.’
‘I do. But I need a helicopter to get me to the pipes. And the pipes are underwater.’
I was impressed, but wouldn’t show it.
‘So what are you saying, that this is, like, your James Bond anorak?’
He stared me straight in the eye.
‘Yesh, schweetheart, thish ish my James Bond anorak.’
And, weirdly, that was the moment I fell in like with Angus McConnald.
An hour and a half later we’d bought his mother some hideous golfing memorabilia from the Disney shop. (She golfed. I’d wondered if maybe this was an obligatory Scottish thing to do, but apparently it was a real hobby.) And I’d bought some comfortable size fourteen navy blue trousers from Racing Green, which proved I was getting old, but I had to buy something.
A boy who liked shopping? I’d cheered up considerably, as I must have appeared to the world like the kind of girl that boys liked enough to go shopping with, even if they were a bit ginga. And we chatted easily about everything under the sun – except when we passed an enormous crystal display in one of the glassware departments. A young, smartly dressed couple were looking at it and checking things off on an enormous list.
‘Marcus, you must hurry up and choose the place settings,’ the girl was saying bossily. Marcus, who looked exactly as he must have done at the age of six, only larger, pouted and turned red.
Angus leaned over to me.
‘Does everyone in London look up new minor peers five minutes after their fathers have died and move in on them like piranha fish?’
I turned to him in surprise. ‘Do you know him?’
‘I know the type,’ he said darkly, looking at the girl. That pissed me off.
‘Well, excuse me. I didn’t realize it was international sexist day. And for your information, the answer is yes. I personally am killing time with you on my way to seduce Prince William.’
‘Huh!’ he said. Then, less grumpily: ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ Then he clammed up like a, umm, clam.
Still, it was time to go home anyway, and I really felt quite relaxed.
‘It was good to bump into you,’ I said lamely at the tube station.
‘Serendipity.’ He grinned through his anorak.
‘Oh, a word with lots of syllables in it! Was that meant to turn me on?’
God, WHY did I say that? Angus turned red and neither of us knew what to say.
‘Erm, no, no, it wasn’t. I’ll … see you later.’ And he scuttled off into the crowd.
‘Angus!’ I yelled after him.
I caught a glimpse of his neon orange trim bobbing up and down towards the tube, then just in time he turned round.
‘Thanks,’ I shouted. ‘Thanks for last night. Fran was really appreciative.’
He grinned again, infectiously. ‘At your lady’s service, ma’am,’ he said, bowing low in the middle of Piccadilly Circus.
Alex had left a message saying he’d gone to the football, so I looked almost as mournful as Linda when we came face to face in the hall. Then I remembered my niceness campaign.
‘Hey,
