LITMIR.BIZ

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can say to change how she feels about that. Too many shit things have happened for her to be happy right now. It’s almost scary: when someone as cool and confident as Plum can’t handle singledom, what hope is there for me? No, I’ll be fine. I have Robert to help me. Plum just needs a Robert, but I don’t think she wants to hear that right now.

      ‘Shall we have a Good Will Hunting moment, where I tell you over and over again that it’s not your fault?’

      Plum smiles, sighs, and shakes her head. ‘No. You know, I thought Dan was a good guy. Maybe there are no good guys left.’

      ‘Come along tonight and have some fun,’ I say. I take her bag, take out her cigarettes, put one in her mouth and light it for her. ‘Let’s see what’s out there.’

      ‘Let me save you the bother,’ she says, exhaling smoke dramatically. ‘Nothing, and no one, is out there. I don’t even know why I suggested fucking speed dating. I give up. Do you hear me, universe?’ She shouts. ‘I give up!’

      At that moment, her phone rings.

      She locates it in the side pocket of her bag, and looks at the screen.

      ‘No fucking way . . .’ she says quietly, and presses the answer button. ‘. . . Hello?’

      There’s a pause, and I see her eyes scanning space as she listens. ‘Yes, oh, oh, hi,’ she says, and quickly covers the phone while she wipes her nose and clears her throat. ‘I’m marvellous, thanks, Dan. How are you?’

      Dan! Her good guy! From the nightclub! Who hasn’t called in weeks!

      ‘It did? . . . You did?’ she pauses, and smiles. ‘Really? What a nightmare.’ Seeing Plum grinning is one of the nicest things I’ve seen in days. Like cold feet in a hot bath, my worry slowly eases. She mouths that she’ll catch up, and I nod and skip to where Henry and Charlotte have stopped to wait for us.

      ‘Sorry,’ I say.

      ‘Everything alright, Abigay?’ asks Henry.

      ‘Smashing,’ I nod. ‘She’ll just be a second.’

      Plum runs up to us, buzzing with happiness. ‘Dan’s suitcase was lost on the way to Atlanta! And his phone was inside it as he’d changed jackets at the last minute! And he was emailing Rich, trying to get in touch with me! But Rich wasn’t responding cos he’s got a new job in Hong fucking Kong! And then he tried to find me on Facebook but my privacy levels were too high! So Dan finally got back to London yesterday and just got his suitcase back today and the first thing he did was call me! He said he was sitting on the floor of his flat because he had to charge it at the same time because the battery was dead! I’m seeing him tomorrow!’

      We all start cheering and high-fiving, even Charlotte, who seems pretty confused by the whole story but just rolls with it. By the time we reach The Perseverance, I am feeling uberconfident and ready to go. I am going to make this speed dating night my bitch. We walk in, and I look towards the bar.

      And then I see Josh From HR.

      And Skinny Jeans guy.

      And Peter’s brother, Joe.

      Shit.

       Chapter Eighteen

      ‘Fuckety fuck, fuck, fuck it,’ I say. I’m saying it to no one, because the minute I clocked the three of them, I ran straight for the bathrooms. Now I’m locked in a cubicle, having what I sup pose is a very mild version of a panic attack: I’m looking at my shoes and saying ‘fuck’ a lot.

      What do I do now? I have to leave, right? I cannot brazen my way out of this, no matter how detached and cool I pretend to be. I’ll text Plum and ask her to come in here, perhaps we can fashion a burkha of some kind out of her scarf, and I can escape without them seeing me—

      ‘Abigail?’ says a voice. It’s Plum. ‘Why did you just do a pirouet te and leap for the ladies?’

      I open the toilet door and walk out just as Charlotte bursts into the bathroom.

      ‘What’s going on?’ she says. ‘You left me with Henry!’ she stops short. ‘Not that I mind . . .’

      ‘I have to leave,’ I say, fighting the urge to laugh hysterically. ‘The dweeb is here and the guy that I, you know, was a drunken slutty nightmare with, and Peter’s brother, Joe, who hates me and called me a selfish bitch. What are the odds? I can’t possibly stay and sit face-to-face with them for three minutes each!’

      ‘You can’t leave!’ they say in unison.

      ‘I need you here,’ says Plum. ‘And if you leave, you’ll fuck up the guys-to-girls ratio.’

      ‘I only came because of you!’ says Charlotte nervously.

      Fuck. It’s true, I really can’t leave Charlotte since I invited her. Plum was practically hysterical on the street just now, I mean, she seems stable since Dan rang but God knows what might happen if something went wrong. And it really would be difficult to hold a speed dating night with too many guys.

      ‘Oh God, I’m having a hot flush from nerves, this may have brought on The Change,’ I say, leaning over the sink and running my wrists under the cold water.

      ‘I find it unlikely that you’re going through menopause at 27,’ retorts Plum.

      ‘When were you a drunken slutty nightmare, by the way?’ says Charlotte. Ah yes, I pretended I was sick. Oh well, we’re friends now. I give her a quick rundown on the Skinny Jeans date, and she laughs so hard I think she might be ill.

      Then we’re all silent for a second. ‘There’s what, seven million people in London? What are the odds?’

      ‘I thought it was eight million,’ says Charlotte.

      ‘Whatever,’ I say. ‘I need some thinking time. What time is it starting? We’re just butterflying now, right?’

      ‘We’re supposed to go to the private room upstairs by 9 pm,’ says Plum, glancing at her phone. ‘You have half an hour.’

      ‘I’ll tell Henry what’s going on,’ says Charlotte, dashing back out. ‘He’ll be worried.’

      ‘I’ll get us some drinks,’ says Plum. ‘Then we can figure out what to do.’

      And I’m alone again. I feel sick, like I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t . . . I never responded to any of the texts from Josh From HR or Skinny Jeans. Perhaps this is my comeuppance for being so arrogant. Karma is a bitch. Should I say I lost my phone? Or that I just never got their texts? Perhaps I could pretend to have amnesia. Like Guy Pearce in Memento.

      Fuck it, I’m calling Robert.

      ‘Why are my spidey senses telling me that you need advice?’ he says, instead of hello.

      ‘Total fucking meltdown. Can you talk?’

      ‘I learned to talk when I was a year old, but I was advanced for my age. What’s up?’

      ‘I’m at speed dating, you know, and Skinny Jeans the one night stand guy is here, and Josh From HR, remember that bad date at the Albannach? And Peter’s brother Joe who hates me, and called me a stupid bitch, and I’m going to have to talk to them all for three minutes each, and I can’t leave or the girls will kill me.’

      There’s a pause.

      ‘You’d better not be laughing!’ I say.

      ‘Sorry,’ he says. I can tell by his voice that he’s smiling.

      ‘Why is it echoing?’

      ‘I’m hiding in the, uh, euphemism.’

      ‘Right . . . So, who cares? Three minutes. You can do anything for three minutes.’

      ‘No! I need help!’ I am overreacting,

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