Page 15 of So, I Met This Guy . . .

Plus, much to her shame, she’d lost touch with most of her friends when she met Him. Their love affair had been such a whirlwind, so all-consuming, she’d neglected her friendships. Plus, He preferred it that way. He wanted her all to himself. They didn’t need anyone else, He would always tell her. At the time she thought it was romantic. Just the two of them, in this great big love bubble. She still couldn’t believe how naive she’d been.

Much easier over texts to pretend that she was doing fine, everything was OK and she was starting over in her new life like it was one Big New Exciting Adventure. The only person she didn’t have to pretend with was George. But still. She wasn’t in the mood.

Rejecting the call, she texted instead.

Sorry, I’m busy. Will call you later x

Ping. He replied straightaway.

Bullshit. Busy doing what? You’re unemployed and living in a field in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. Call me back.

His text made her smile. George always had that effect, whatever the circumstances. Loud, opinionated and self-deprecating, he was someone for whom the phrase ‘larger than life’ was coined. But he was also deeply sensitive, with dark moods and a fragility witnessed only by those very close to him. Maggie always thought that’s what made him such a brilliant artist. An ability to see beneath the layers, to glimpse light through the shadow and be able to draw it out.

Putting down her tea, she propped her phone against her mug and obediently video-called him back. Within seconds his wide smile was filling the screen, bright sunshine and blue skies making him squint against a backdrop of glistening skyscrapers.

‘Where are you?’ She could never keep track of George. Every time he rang he was somewhere different.

He swung the camera around so she could see the skyline. It was instantly recognizable as Manhattan.

‘New York. Got a night stop. Wish you were here. We could go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and look at Rothkos; it would be like the old days.’

‘I wish,’ she sighed, smiling. ‘Forgive me if I don’t swing my camera around. The inside of the caravan doesn’t have quite the same view as the Empire State.’

‘So, how’s it going?’

‘Fine.’

‘Liar.’

‘Are you just ringing to insult me?’

He laughed good-naturedly. ‘How long have I known you, Maggie?’

‘Too long.’

‘Exactly. Long enough to know nothing is ever fine. We’re either fabulous and fuck-worthy or depressed and knackered or in love or heartbroken or something, but we’re never just fine.’

Maggie smiled fondly at her friend.

George was a knee-jerk of exaggeration and drama. A working-class boy from Liverpool, he drank too much, loved too hard and always liked to joke about it. She was quieter, more rational, the sensible stooge to his funny man in the double act that was their friendship of over thirty years.

At least she was until recently.

‘OK, so I’m not fine. I just got shamed out of the local farm shop.’

‘Ooh, what did you do? Don’t tell me. You gave a carrot a blow job? You got down and dirty with an organic cheese? You did something filthy with a side of grass-fed beef?’

Maggie shook her head as he fired her with filthy puns. ‘Is this how your mind really works?’

George gave a throaty laugh. ‘Don’t look so shocked. We used to share a flat, remember?’

‘Don’t remind me.’ Maggie gave a pretend shudder. ‘Anyway, it was a lot more boring, I’m afraid. My credit card was refused and I didn’t have any cash to pay for my groceries. Actually, that’s not true,’ she corrected herself. ‘I had the cash, but they don’t accept cash these days.’

‘Of course not. It’s a cashless society.’

‘You knew that?’

‘Where have you been?’