‘No?’
‘No. It was all, “Premal is a doctor and from a very good family”, and I was like, I want tofallin love– not audition fifteen suitors and then pick the one with the most solid pension plan. Luckily my parents were cool with me escaping.’
Amy laughed.
‘Are you with anyone, Amy? Did you leave your heart behind in London?’
Nisha’s interest was so genuine that Amy wavered– her stock response that she simply didn’t go in for soppy stuff withering before she could force it out of her mouth.
Instead, she said: ‘Er. Well. Iwaswith someone, but I definitely didn’t leave my heart with him. We split up just before I moved back. In fact, it’swhyI moved back.’
‘Eek,’ Nisha murmured. ‘Sounds dramatic.’
‘D’you know what, it really was,’ Amy said, lifting a last, syrup-coated square of waffle to her lips. ‘Would you believe, he asked me to marry him after only six months, with absolutely no warning? In a hot-air balloon … even though I’m terrified of heights.’
‘No way,’ Nisha said, wide-eyed. ‘I mean, it’ssort ofromantic, I guess … But, like, nobody wants to be proposed to while they’re shitting themselves that they might plummet to the ground and die.’
‘Quite,’ Amy agreed, surprised to find herself laughing.
She had no idea why she was telling Nisha all this, except that it felt as though she were expelling some toxic substance her muscles had been clinging onto. Nisha’s company, it turned out, was the conversational equivalent of a sauna.
‘We were very compatible on paper,’ Amy continued. ‘Similar careers, similar interests, similar life goals … People said we made sense together. But—’
‘No SDS,’ Nisha finished for her. ‘Absolutely classic.’
‘No … what? What’s SDS? It sounds like a chronic disease.’
‘Far from it,’ Nisha said, her fuchsia lips widening in a knowing smile.
How was that lipstick even stillon, Amy wondered, resolving to ask for details later.
‘SDS,’ said Nisha grandly, ‘stands forStomach Drop Sensation. It’s the magic. You know, the warm glow you get deep down in your gut that means someone’s justrightfor you. It comes from your heart and your body and your brain all at the same time. It’s awesome and scary, like a force of nature– like magnetism or gravity, or something.’
Amy tipped her head to one side, trying hard to appear amused rather than discomfited. ‘Is this a term you’ve coined yourself, or does everyone else already know about it? Am I the only one who didn’t get the memo?’
‘Anyone who’dneeda memo about SDS must have a serious lack of it in their life,’ Nisha said, shaking her head in disapproval. ‘Are you telling me that you’ve never, even for a moment, felt it? Not even a semi-stomach drop? Or a stomachdip?’
She looked shocked and …Yes,Amy decided, saddened. A little like Kit had when Amy denied ever having had a kiss that could be described as a ‘knee-trembler’.
‘Er. I … Maybe a tiny stomach dip?’ Amy conceded, not sure why she was admitting to this. ‘A fraction of one? I don’t know … It was a very,verylong time ago.’
‘It counts,’ Nisha said triumphantly. ‘You wouldn’t remember it otherwise.’ Amy signalled to their waitress and ordered another round of coffees, mainly so she wouldn’t have to agree.
‘It’s a long time since I felt the SDS,’ Nisha sighed as their empty plates were cleared. ‘Rowton’s lovely, but it has a serious dearth of eligible hotties.’
Amy nodded, worried that if she passed comment on any of the local men she’d give the impression she might be interested in dating one of them.
‘I mean, there’s Sam, of course,’ Nisha went on. ‘Ridiculously good-looking and newly available. But definitely not my type.’
‘Right,’ Amy said, her tone determinedly disinterested– despite the curiosity suddenly fizzing in her stomach.Newly available?
‘Yeah,’ said Nisha, scraping chocolate-dusted whipped cream off the top of her drink with a teaspoon. ‘He’s too clean-cut for me. Too neat. Too nice. I like my men a bit scuzzy– there’s less pressure. Alex from the pub, for instance– I’ddefinitelygo out with him if I could catch him between girlfriends.’
Amy pictured the auburn-haired, thick-armed deputy manager of the Oak: a man with arty tattoos, a deep rumble of a laugh and a ready, toothy grin. She could easily picture him on Nisha’s rainbow-clad arm, she decided.
Then, foolishly, she asked a question she’d already swallowed once. ‘You think Sam isnice?’ Her voice sounded scathing. Her tone dripped with incredulity.
‘Like I said earlier, everyone does,’ said Nisha, shooting her another questioning glance. ‘According to Meg, Tillyfinishedwith him for being too nice– too much like a mate. One day there were rumours of a wedding, then the next she was just gone. Poof!’
