tapping something into her iPad.
‘Oh, very nice,’ she said.
‘What is?’
‘Edwin Jones, of course. I’ve just googled him.’
‘Of course you have.’
‘How tall is he?’ she asked. She’s only 5’1”. Graeme calls us Little and Large, but she knows I have a bit of a complex about dating men who are shorter than me.
‘About six four,’ I replied, trying to sound nonchalant despite the butterflies in my stomach.
‘Then he’s clearly perfect for you. You know what they say, the best way of getting over someone is getting…’
‘Yes, thank you, Pen,’ I said firmly. ‘It’s not a date.’ I wasn’t sure whether I was trying to convince Pen or the butterflies.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I just…’ She trailed off with a sigh.
‘What’s up?’ I asked.
‘Oh, nothing really. I’m just bored I think. You’ve left, Alec’s leaving and now Graeme’s going to be leaving too.’
‘What? Graeme’s leaving?’
‘He’s finally found the café of his dreams,’ Pen replied. For as long as either of us has known him Graeme has wanted to run a coffee shop. It was an idea he came up with when he was travelling in Australia. He wanted to run a place that roasted and ground its own coffee beans, a place that sold organic cake and homemade sourdough bread. It sounded delicious but in all these years he’s never found a premises that he could afford the rent on. Not in Cambridge anyway.
‘Wow,’ I said, trying to take it in. ‘Where?’ We’d always imagined this café would be in Cambridge, despite the astronomic rents. The thought of it, and Graeme, not being there is almost as alien as the thought of Alec not being at Trinity College any more.
‘York,’ she replied. ‘A friend of his told him about this old greasy spoon that was up for sale. It needs refurbishing, but it’s going for a song and he just about managed to borrow enough money to buy it. And now he’s moving away.’
‘When?’
‘End of the summer I think.’
‘Oh, Pen, I’m so sorry. I know how close the two of you are.’
She didn’t say anything.
‘But you know, I’m not leaving.’
‘Yes you are,’ she replied firmly. ‘The universe is giving you an opportunity to turn your life around, and you know nothing can change the universe’s mind.’
I sighed audibly.
‘Now,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘What are you going to wear for your date with Edwin Jones?’
*
So here I am in Marco’s waiting for Edwin. I’m not sure what prompted his invitation for dinner. I think he felt responsible for the latest curveball life had thrown at me in the form of the letters. Anyway, I wanted the low-down about what was going to happen in another meeting with tax lawyers tomorrow. I managed to convince him to come to Marco’s even though he sounded almost as snobbish about it as Alec.
He arrives not long after me, still wearing his suit trousers, white shirtsleeves rolled up, top buttons undone. He looks hot and slightly dishevelled, smelling a little too strongly of expensive aftershave, and has clearly come straight from work. He smiles as he bends down to kiss my cheek.
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