Not just Fridays. But I’ve met someone, and he doesn’t live in the same city as me, or even the same country, so we’re doing the long-distance thing and mostly I just see him on weekends. It’s not very long-distance – we’re just a short flight away from each other – but it’s fun and exciting, and it’s given a whole new meaning to That Friday Feeling.
I like him an awful lot. And that’s all I’m going to say on the subject. Because this one’s different. So I’m closing the bedroom door, and I’m shutting down the blog. No more Ms NiceGirl. Because after all the men I’ve known – Mr Bossy, Mr Curious, Mr Strange, Mr Bump and Grind, Mr Ed (remember him?), Mr Handy – I’ve finally found the one I was looking for all along… Mr Right.
It needed work, but it was a nice idea, she thought, as she switched off the laptop and put it away. She liked to think of NiceGirl getting her happy-ever-after. And she’d get her own happy ending too. Tomorrow would be date number five. She would sleep with Mark and everything would be fine.
28
The following evening they took a taxi to Mark’s friend Olivia’s house in Belsize Park. Claire took his hand in the back of the cab, sighing happily as his warm fingers curled around hers. It had been such a lovely day. She had worried there might be some awkwardness after last night, but Mark was his usual friendly, relaxed self, and she felt perfectly at ease again.
It had been a beautiful summer’s day, the sun hot in a cloudless blue sky, a gentle breeze taking the edge off the temperature so that the heat wasn’t oppressive. They had had a blissfully lazy day in the garden, chatting, reading the papers and stroking Millie, punctuated by coffee and tea, cold white wine, croissants, salmon quiche and strawberries. Claire felt almost drowsy with pleasure, as pampered and content as Millie.
‘So, this is our fifth date,’ she said, as they walked up the path to his friend’s house.
He stopped and turned to her. ‘Is it? I wasn’t sure – I mean I didn’t know if you counted this weekend as one or?—’
‘It’s definitely our fifth date,’ she said. ‘And, by the way, I’m not seeing the Artist any more.’
‘You’re not?’
‘No. I broke it off with him before I came over here,’ she said, with a calm smile.
He smiled back, his eyes glittering with intent. Then he took her hand and continued walking.
A very pretty girl with long, shiny dark hair answered the door. ‘Mark!’ she squealed, pulling him into a hug.
‘Olivia, this is Claire,’ Mark said, once he was released. ‘Claire, Olivia.’
‘Hi, Claire, it’s lovely to meet you,’ Olivia said, as they shook hands.
‘You too.’
‘Well, come in, come in.’ Olivia ushered them into the hallway. ‘Let me take your coats. Gosh, I love your dress.’
‘Thank you,’ Claire said, as she handed over her jacket.
‘We’re all in here.’ She led them into a small dining room, where people were already seated around a large table. Banks of candles on every surface gave the room and everyone in it a soft glow.
There was a chorus of ‘Mark!’ as they entered, and he waved at them all in greeting.
‘Everyone, this is Claire,’ Olivia said, ‘Mark’s friend.’
Claire nodded shyly as they all said hello.
‘Sit down, you two,’ Olivia said, waving them to a couple of chairs beside each other. ‘Claire, this is Diane, Patrick, Emma and Jamie.’
‘Emma works with me,’ Mark whispered to Claire, as she sat down beside Jamie. She wondered why he was whispering and he raised his eyebrows meaningfully – at which she realised this was the Emma she knew as @Locksie on Twitter and with whom she had chatted often.
‘Oh!’ she breathed. She wouldn’t have known her from her Twitter avatar, but now that she knew it was her, she recognised the face. It felt strange not to be able to acknowledge that they knew each other – sort of.
‘Andy’s still to come,’ Olivia was saying, ‘but we’re getting sloshed while we’re waiting. Red or white?’
They both asked for red, and when she had filled their glasses, she sat down opposite Claire.
‘I haven’t seen Andy in ages,’ Mark said to Olivia.
‘None of us has,’ she said.
‘Is he bringing anyone?’
