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I took my shoes off and felt the grass under my feet.

      ‘How many cats do you need to be a mad cat lady then?’ Steph pushed her sunglasses on to the top of her head, more attentive now she’d grabbed us a table.

      ‘Four.’ I said this confidently, now knowing it to be fact.

      ‘Get three then. Or maybe only two. Why are you getting a cat, again? Does Connor like cats?’

      ‘I don’t know, actually,’ I said realising it was strange that after a couple of years together I didn’t know if he liked cats or not. I worried that it should be something I absolutely knew. ‘I don’t really want a cat at all but I’m worried that I will end up like Doris if I don’t leave my stupid job. Where’s Sinead?’ Sinead was great at giving thoughtful advice and words of wisdom, whereas Steph was more practical – apart from when it came to heel height.

      ‘Doing some of her hippy bollocks, she’s having her chakras cleared with Tibetan bowls or Himalayan bells or something,’ Steph rolled her eyes. ‘It’s supposed to make you feel calm. I told her the only bells that actually makes you feel calm is the whisky. But wine is much nicer. Cheers. Hey, you know what? Stroking cats is supposed to make you calm and happy.’

      ‘Well, Doris at work isn’t calm and happy. Quite the opposite in fact. She’s always miserable. She only has three so she’s not full mad cat lady. It’s definitely four for that. And I have four on my mug and Doris only has three on hers and I barely see Connor so I might as well be single.’

      ‘It’s not that bad, is it? Have you two been arguing again?’ said Steph with her eyebrows raised, looking concerned.

      ‘Oh I don’t know, Steph. I haven’t really seen him to have an argument with him!’ I said and slumped down. ‘It all seems like such hard work, you know?’

      ‘I know,’ said Steph. ‘Maybe it’s time to change your plan then?’

      Even though I had considered it earlier, I now bristled at the thought of it.

      ‘Hmm,’ I said ‘I’m not sure.’ I had spent so long saving, and all those Saturdays at work would be for nothing. I didn’t want to give up on my dreams now. I’d only have to do Doris’s job for a few years. I could still leave long before I became a cat lady.

      Steph rolled her eyes. ‘What’s the point in having a plan if it doesn’t make you happy? And what’s the point of a boyfriend you never see? Honestly Fi, he ought to be making a bit of an effort.’

      ‘He said he won’t be so busy once summer is over. There won’t be so many festivals and events and I’ll see him more.’ This was one of things I was hanging onto; once the festivals and the summer parties were over, he’d be back to working less brutal hours, and things would be back to normal. This is what I hoped for anyway.

      ‘It kind of is the end of summer,’ said Steph, delivering a crushing blow as I realised it was almost September and I had spent barely any time with Connor. No summer picnics, no strolls in the park, no weekends away, holidays or days out on the beach. No time to stop all the planning and to just be for a little while.

      ‘I feel like I’ve missed it,’ I said.

      ‘I know what you mean, I am so tired. I could do with a holiday,’ said Steph, sighing. Steph had not taken any holiday since Christmas, she’d been working so hard trying to win accounts which would get her a promotion. She worked ten-hour days but at least she was doing what she wanted and was successful. But it was taking its toll on her – she looked a little dark around the eyes, as though she’d not slept for weeks.

      With both of us now feeling really miserable, we did the only thing to do in this situations; we checked in with Facebook, tagged each other and uploaded smiling selfies of ourselves ‘feeling happy’ while we waited for Sinead to arrive.

      ‘Seriously though, Fi, are you happy?’

      I thought about her question for a moment, and was relieved when Sinead arrived so I didn’t have to answer.

      Steph sniffed her to check for patchouli in case she’d gone full hippy.

      ‘Good, no patchouli, you may still be my friend,’ she teased while pouring her a glass of wine.

      ‘Clear off, Steph.’ Sinead gave her a gentle shove. ‘What’s going on?’

      ‘Connor let Fiona down again last night and now Fiona is getting a cat. Four cats, actually.’

      ‘Oh, no, again? Very calming, and pets are also good for moving the energy around. Very good feng shui,’ said Sinead. ‘Plus, nice company, you know, if you’re lonely?’

      ‘I’m not getting a sodding cat! And I am not lonely. I don’t think.’ I winced.

      Sinead had managed to hit a nerve while simultaneously hitting the nail on the head.

      ‘She doesn’t need her feng shui sorting out,’ Steph started to laugh. ‘What she needs is to be sorted out. What she needs is a good sh-’

      ‘Steph!’ Sinead and I shouted at her.

      ‘What? I was going to say Chardonnay! Ha. Christ knows I do. I haven’t been on a date in years. Don’t have the time.’ Steph winked and topped up my glass and laughed the dirtiest laugh. I found it hard to believe Steph would be struggling to meet anyone.

      ‘What about that bloke from Fiona’s work who you went for a balti with on Ladypool Road last month? That was a date wasn’t it?’ asked Sinead, smiling encouragingly.

      ‘That doesn’t count. I have erased it from my memory.’ she said. ‘His favourite film was Jurassic Park Two. And he said he liked the smell of bleach. Seriously, who likes the smell of bleach? A mad axe murderer or a serial killer, that’s who. Therefore, it does not count as a date. It was more like a sociological investigation into the mind of a psychopath. Or a prison visit.’ She shuddered.

      It was a very ill-informed decision of mine to set up Steph on a date with Ken from work. Not my finest moment. I didn’t know about his liking for dinosaur movies or cleaning products before the date, but still, it’s never a good idea to set up your friends with work colleagues.

      ‘And he ordered a korma too,’ said Steph. ‘He said he didn’t really like spicy food.’

      ‘Oh no,’ Sinead looked at her with pity and touched Steph’s hand. Perhaps slightly overreacting.

      ‘I know,’ said Steph. ‘What a wuss. That is such a girly thing to do. Where are all the real men, for heaven’s sake?’

      ‘They’re not in here for a start,’ ‘I said. ‘Look at the state of them. I used to love it here.’

      It used to be an old man’s pub before it got hipster-y and uber-fashionable, when the only food they served was a cheese cob wrapped in cling film. We would spend hours in here and treated it like our living room, meeting up after work and staying until closing at the weekends before heading into town. Me and Connor had our first date here. Now it was all black walls and chandeliers and blackboards full of cocktails and ridiculous tapas creations and I hated it. The people were different too. Once it had been full of all sorts of people, old men popping in and out of the bookies, supping pints of mild. Now it was full of hipsters, wearing the same sorts of clothes the old men used to wear but with designer labels on them.

      Connor still liked it in here, he mingled with all the hipster types, but it didn’t feel real to me any more. It was all so pretentious.

      ‘I can’t believe we haven’t been on holiday this year,’ Sinead said, interrupting my thoughts. ‘We could all do with a change. A rest. We’re all overworked. We’re burnt out. I was reading about it on Goop. Women our age are tired because we want it all but what we really need is some fresh air,’ she announced. ‘We need fresh air, peace and quiet, country walks. A break away from it all. We could go camp–’

      ‘Forget it.’ I interrupted.

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