‘I’ve got one!’ She beamed. ‘His name’s Lance. He loves books and he keeps making jokes. He’s exactly like you!’

Practically wrestling Jemima off her horse, Simi shoved her towards Lance, thrilled at her achievement. It had worked. She’d got herself out of the way and it had bloody worked.

‘Well done,’ said Meagan with an enigmatic smile.

‘Thanks!’ said Simi as she scanned the room, calculating how to modify her approach for the different types of men.

Maybe the suit having an animated debate would need his ego massaged. She’d descend upon those students like the party girl from heaven and as for that trio of hipsters, perhaps she’d parachute in with a strident opinion about fine art. I mean, what is art, really?

‘Listen, I’ve been thinking,’ Meagan said, rocking gently, ‘If you really want me to, I’ll tell Antonia’s office you’re not available. Simi?’

Simi watched Jemima and Lance chatting on the other side of the bar. Looking out at Shoreditch’s melting pot of punters, she realised that this was what being single but not heartbroken felt like. And even if it was fleeting and the sorrow returned, this felt good. She could always come back to this place, this feeling. Yes, the thought of Oscar could still bring her to her knees but those moments would get further and further apart the more she let life in.

‘It’s cool,’ said Simi, ‘and thank you.’

‘Right, I should hear back from her in a couple of days,’ said Meagan, raising a glass.

As Simi leaned in and clinked her drink against Meagan’s, Jemima returned, puffing out her cheeks.

‘Bloody hell. He can talk the hind legs off a rocking horse,’ she laughed, throwing him another wave.

Simi smiled again. What a win. She’d actually got Jemima to enjoy talking to a guy. That hadn’t happened for years. As Simi felt the quiet relief of a slowly healing heart she wondered if Jemima might begin to let go of her fears and allow someone in too. Maybe even Meagan could learn to trust again. She wouldn’t say it to the girls but she had a good feeling about how this was all going to turn out.

‘Happy days,’ cheered Meagan. ‘Right, Simster, get the drinks in. Jemima, don’t get too cosy. You’re up.’

Chapter 18

Jemima

There was no way she was getting off the hook and Jemima knew it. She had to find Meagan a date. The good thing was, at least their earlier schism had passed. Jemima scolded herself for those clumsy queries about Parker. In her eagerness to engineer the conversation she’d forgotten how sensitive a subject he was. Simi was right, she had got off lightly. And her heart had nearly stopped when Simi had mentioned Troy. She thought she’d been rumbled about the borrowed stories before she’d had a chance to confess.

‘Be nice,’ said Meagan shaking Jemima from her thoughts. ‘Play with your hair or something.’

‘Right,’ said Jemima, her face frozen in an unnecessarily grave expression.