‘Ugh. I think I’d rather do it with the turkey baster. Anyway, the fact is that the idea is fixed in her mind now. She’s already emailed me twice this morning with ideas.’
‘Is Dan on board with it?’
‘He’s not anti. I mean, he doesn’t think it will make any difference to our chances of success, but the idea of winter sunshine definitely appeals to him.’
‘Sensible man. If I win the lottery, I’ve always said I’d buy a house in Australia.’
‘Why there?’
‘Because their seasons are the exact reverse of ours. I could spend British summer here and then head for Australia as soon as the weather turned, so I could live in perpetual summertime.’
She considers this for a moment. ‘Christmas in the middle of summer would be a bit weird though, wouldn’t it?’
‘You’re right. I guess I’d need a Christmas house too. Somewhere where snow was guaranteed but I could still get about.’
‘A cabin in the woods, with a roaring log fire,’ she suggests.
‘I like the log fire, but not the woods.’
‘What’s wrong with them?’
‘I’ve seen too many horror films where people get murdered in the woods.’
‘OK, no woods.’
My attention is distracted by Sonya, who is miming dying of thirst at us from her desk as she talks to someone on the phone.
‘We’d better get back,’ I say to Lily. ‘What are you going to do about this holiday though?’
‘I don’t know,’ she replies as we make our way to our desks and I hand Sonya her mug. ‘Perhaps I won’t do anything. Or maybe I’ll let Amy and Dan slug it out and just go along with whatever they dream up.’
The rest of the day seems to pass in a blur. By the time Alan finally arrives and summons us for a staff meeting at half past four, I’ve added seven new candidates to our client list. The major upside of this is that I haven’t had time to reflect on my idiotic hook-up with Stuart. He doesn’t even get a look in on my journey home at the end of the day, as my mind is pleasantly engaged daydreaming about how much better January would be if I were drinking rum on a warm Caribbean beach instead of rattling along in a stuffy Tube under freezing, rain-soaked streets. If I were Lily, I know exactly which option I’d be choosing.
4
One of the earliest traditions that Priya, Rosie and I started after we moved in together was Saturday brunch. It’s a strictly ‘no boys allowed’ ritual where we discuss the events of the week and anything else that’s on our minds. We did briefly consider inviting Sophie when we chose her to be our new flatmate, but I think we were secretly relieved when we found out that she spends pretty much every weekend at her boyfriend’s parents’ house in Surrey. After trying pretty much every café within walking distance of our flat, we settled on the eponymously named Rowena’s, which offered the best vegetarian selection for Priya. Rowena greets us warmly every Saturday and always ensures we get our favourite table by the window.
‘I’ve been thinking about your Stuart problem,’ Rosie says to me. Priya hasn’t arrived yet, so we’re sipping coffees while we wait for her.
‘Which problem is this?’ I ask. ‘It was a mistake and I’m not seeing him again. No problem.’
‘Yes, but it’s not as simple as that, is it. We need to examine your motivation for sleeping with him so we can prevent you from making a similar mistake in future.’
‘The motivation was simple. I was drunk and in the mood. Stuart was a known quantity, if an unfortunate choice. I really don’t think we need to pick this apart.’
Rosie’s probing is interrupted by the arrival of Priya, looking flushed and irritated.
‘Explain to me why engineering works are allowed to create merry hell on the Northern line on the first weekend of the year, when they’ve already had the whole of the Christmas break to faff about?’ she demands crossly as she sinks into the vacant chair. ‘After twenty minutes with my nose rammed against the armpit of some guy who’s patently never heard of bloody deodorant, the driver announces that the train is terminating four stops before the one I want. I waited ages for a bus and then, of course, there has to be a sodding accident, so we sat in stationary traffic for half an hour. Welcome to London, where nothing works properly.’
‘You’ll be glad to know that my coffee machine is absolutely fine,’ Rowena assures her as she sets a cup in front of her. ‘Soya milk latte, just the way you like it.’
‘Thanks, Rowena. You’re a lifesaver,’ Priya replies as she bends over the cup and takes an appreciative sniff.
Rowena smiles. ‘I’ll give you a few minutes to collect your thoughts before I come back to take your order.’
‘I’m starving,’ Priya declares, grabbing a menu.
‘You don’t need that,’ Rosie tells her with a laugh. ‘You should be able to recite it from memory by now. Maybe you could go onMastermind.Name: Priya Singh. Specialist Subject: Rowena’s breakfast menu. Question one: What is the dish that Tori orders most often?’
