photos. The other side was filled with communal tables and a dulled metal bar that ran halfway down the room, lined with tall barstools and Edison lights hanging down overhead. It looked like a steampunk hairdressers, if a giant strawberry yoghurt had exploded inside. Not that it mattered what I thought, the place was absolutely packed, the sofas were swarmed and the communal tables full of people nursing an almost empty coffee cup while they abused the free WiFi.
With no other options, I hopped up onto an empty stool, resting my bag on the bar. A woman appeared on the other side and gave me a big smile. Her hair was woven into a long, elaborate braid you couldn’t help but respect and a heavy leather work apron covered her white shirt and blue jeans.
‘What can I get you?’ she asked.
‘A white wine please?’ I replied with a quick glance at the happy hour menu. ‘A large white wine?’
I might not be able to afford expensive cheese but there was always room on my credit card for a drink.
‘One of those days?’ The bartender pushed an enormous glass of Sauvignon Blanc towards me.
‘Something like that,’ I agreed, tucking my own long hair behind my ears and taking a grateful sip. I liked her already.
The day had been a challenge. Between my jetlag and a pair of randy rutting foxes that had seemingly chosen the back of my shed as their love nest I’d barely slept a wink. Which meant I didn’t cope very well when my dad apologetically explained he’d moved all my clothes from the washer to the dryer without asking me and accidentally shrunk more than half of them. And that was before I’d got to the freezing-cold water in the shed shower or the utter horror of the compostable toilet. My parents might be happy to have me home but home did not seem happy to have me.
‘Oh my god, it’s you, it’s you, you’re really back!’
Without warning, a black leather tote bag, filled to overflowing, thumped down beside me at the bar with a short South Asian woman attached.
‘I am so happy to see you,’ I told her, squeezing my friend so tightly she squealed in protest.
‘I’m happy to see you too,’ Sumi replied, delight all over her face. She’d always hated being short and lived in four-inch heels but she loved that she was, in her own words, ‘a thicc bitch’, all confident curves and zero-fucks attitude. Her hair was long and dark and her face was a masterpiece, glowing skin, huge eyes and a mouth that always seemed to be smiling.
‘I’m gagging for a drink,’ she said, waving to the bartender and pointing at my glass before giving her a thumbs up. The woman threw her a wink and went to work. ‘So, tell me everything. How does it feel to be back?’
‘Weird,’ I admitted as we fell right back into our rhythm. I hadn’t physically laid eyes on Sumi since she came out to visit a year ago but one way or another, we’d spoken every single day without fail. We didn’t miss a beat. ‘I’m happy though, I’ve missed everything about home so much.’
‘You picked the right three years to be gone,’ she replied. ‘I’d have gone with you if I could have. How’s the flat-hunt going?’
‘Can’t get a flat without a job,’ I pointed out. ‘I’m totally broke. If I’d known I’d be leaving so suddenly, I’d have tried to save more.’
I shuddered at the thought of winter in the shed.
Sumi took in the news with her trademark sympathy. ‘You’ll work it out,’ she said, patting me aggressively on the back. Sumi was a corporate lawyer who would never be out of work as long as companies continued to do dastardly things to each other – which basically meant she’d be loaded forever. ‘Everyone will be champing at the bit to give you a job. Your CV must look amazing, who else in London has three years’ experience at American Public Radio? You’re a rockstar, babe.’
‘Yeah,’ I agreed weakly. ‘That’s me.’
She lifted her head slightly to examine me, an expression I knew only too well.
‘You still haven’t really explained what happened. Did you quit? Was it layoffs?’
‘I was ready to come home,’ I said, also ready to draw a line under the conversation. ‘It’s a long, boring story, not worth the waste of breath.’
She gave me a sideways glance as her wine arrived. Sumi, ever the lawyer, knew when a case was closed.
‘Your mum and dad must be thrilled to have you home?’
‘They’re making me live in a shed.’
Sumi’s eyes lit up. ‘I have many follow-up questions.’
‘You may not ask them,’ I replied. ‘But you can help me set up my new phone if you like.’
I pulled a sexy black slab out of my bag and modelled it with my best game show hostess hand movements while my friend contributed the appropriate ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’. Even though I couldn’t really afford it, I had to have a phone. I’d had a work one in DC and the moment I’d handed it back in, it was like having my arm cut off. The ancient handset I’d been using in the interim was so slow, it would have been easier to send my friends telegrams than it was to text.
‘My phone is so old you practically have to put twenty pence in the back to make a call,’ Sumi muttered, admiring my new technology. ‘But I can’t face learning how to use a new one. I’ve gone full Luddite.’
‘Oh, I’ve got no idea how to use it but look how pretty it is.’ I gazed lovingly into the glossy screen and blinked with delight as it unlocked itself, opening up the home screen. ‘Look at that! I didn’t even have to press anything.’
‘Facial recognition,’ she said darkly. ‘Another reason not to upgrade, I don’t need the Russians saving my face to some mad database.’
‘Why the Russians?’ I asked, peering at the virgin, unscratched screen. So beautiful.
‘It’s always the Russians,’ Sumi said, a knowing look on her face. ‘The Russians or Mark Zuckerberg. Or both. In fact, do we even know he’s not Russian?’
‘Yes, Sumi,’ I replied, holding my phone at a safe distance and studying it carefully. ‘We do.’
My sister, Jo, could pick up any item of technology and, within three seconds, she’d have a gluten-free, vegan pizza on its way, her favourite music playing through an unseen speaker and five potential dates lined up for the weekend, all while checking her blood pressure and livestreaming footage from the Mars Rover. I had to work a little bit harder. The woman in the shop had set up the basics but I was going to have to figure out the rest for myself. For the last three years, I’d had to listen to all my albums on shuffle because I was too embarrassed to ask anyone how to turn it off.
Sumi took a deep swig of her wine and sighed with pleasure. ‘Have you downloaded the apps yet?’
‘Give me a break. I’ve had the phone for half an hour, this is the first time I’ve looked at it since I left the shop,’ I replied, sighing at her impatience before casting my eyes towards the floor in shame. ‘I downloaded Tinder.’
She pulled a bowl of snack mix down the bar and began popping peanuts into her mouth as
