Page 54 of Who’s That Girl?

Beatrice clutches her pearls and looks at me as if I’ve just asked the obvious. ‘Nearly every observatory reflector in the world is a Ritchey-Chrétien, including NASA’s Hubble space telescope!’ she announces grandly, then breaks off, her face flushed with exhilaration. Which quickly fades in the space of time it takes to click your fingers.

‘See, that’s what always happens,’ she accuses.

‘What always happens?’

‘That expression.’

‘What expression?’ I reply defensively.

‘That blank look on your face.’

‘That’s just how my face is,’ I protest hastily. ‘That’s just how I look.’

‘That’s not true,’ she pouts sulkily. ‘I have that effect on everyone. I start talking and people just switch off. Mummy advised me to go into PR “because no man wants a wife who’s a scientist”. And she’s right. Mummy’s always right.’ Her large blue eyes start to fill up and she blinks rapidly, trying to fight back the tears. She grabs a coffee filter as a tissue.

‘Mummy isn’t always right,’ I argue hotly, then quickly catch myself. ‘I mean, your mummy … mum,’ I correct myself, ‘isn’t always right.’

‘You think so?’ She looks at me doubtfully, and twists the coffee filter in her hands.

‘Absolutely.’ I nod firmly, then throw her a reassuring smile. ‘You just haven’t met the right person yet.’

‘Like you met Miles,’ she says, looking at me meaningfully.

‘Well, yes, like I met Miles,’ I say, feeling a bit awkward as I suddenly realise that I’ve barely thought about Miles for days. What with everything that’s been going on, my head’s been full of other stuff. But now at the mention of his name I’m reminded that I’m seeing him this lunchtime to look at a house.

Out of nowhere I experience a flutter of nerves. But that’s just because I’m excited, I tell myself quickly. After all, who wouldn’t be excited to go house-hunting with their boyfriend?

‘How did you know he was the right person?’

I zone back in to see Beatrice still looking at me.

‘Oh, I don’t know, loads of things …’ I trail off.

‘Like what?’ she asks eagerly.

Abruptly I get this feeling as if I’m on stage under the spotlight and it’s my cue to say my lines. Only it’s like I’ve got stage fright and I can’t remember any of them. ‘Everything,’ I answer simply.

‘Golly, that’s so romantic.’ She sighs and passes me my coffee. ‘You’re so lucky, you know.’

‘Yes, I know.’ And it’s true. I do know I’m lucky. I tell myself that every day. It’s just—

‘Ooh! Someone’s been on a shopping spree!’ interrupts Beatrice. ‘Giving yourself a makeover?’

I snap back to see her looking at my bulging carrier bags with curiosity. At exactly the same time as I notice the Nicorette patches and several packets of condoms, which I threw in for good measure, balancing precariously on top.

‘Um, yes, I suppose you could say that,’ I say, and quickly swooping on them, I stuff them in my desk drawer.

‘Oh, what fun!’ She beams, and hugging her coffee cup, she totters back to her desk, leaving me smiling uncertainly and wondering what exactly I’ve got myself into.

For sure, the next few days are going to be a lot of things, but I’m not entirely convinced fun’s going to be one of them.

Chapter Seventeen

‘Hello, darling.’ At one o’clock I park up outside a large red-brick Victorian house on a leafy West London street and find Miles already waiting for me by the gate, a huge grin on his face. ‘Isn’t it just perfect?’ he enthuses, sliding his arm round my waist so we can stand side by side on the pavement and look up at 43 Andlebury Avenue. ‘Well?’

As he turns to me, his eyes shining with excitement, I realise I haven’t actually spoken yet. ‘Gosh,’ is all I manage.

Miles smiles. ‘Gosh?’ he teases. His mouth twitches with amusement. ‘Is that it?’