I stared at the screen, trying to come up with just the right message. How was I supposed to say ‘Hi, I’m back in London, please don’t ask me any questions about my surprise return that was one hundred percent my choice and also I live in a shed now’ without sounding completely pathetic?

‘You’re sending people your new number, you don’t have to write an essay,’ Sumi climbed down from her stool, peering over my shoulder to see my fingertip poised over a blank screen. ‘I’m going for a wee, see if you can finish it before I get back.’

‘Good to know, enjoy it,’ I told her as she click-clacked off through the bar in her stilettos.

Hi, it’s Ros Reynolds, I typed out before I could overthink it. Overthinking was one of my greatest talents. Given the chance, I could talk myself out of literally anything in under five minutes. Instead, I took another glug of the wine while I tried to imagine what I would say if I were writing it for someone else.

Hi, it’s Ros Reynolds. This is my new number, I just moved back to London! Let’s catch up soon.

One exclamation mark, no emojis. Short, sweet, to the point and, most importantly, not pathetic. It was a winner. I tapped the little arrow in the corner and saw a small white box pop up.

Group Text wants to access contacts? I hit ‘Allow’.

Choose recipients or select all?

‘Can I get you another drink?’

I looked up to see the woman behind the bar smiling at my empty glass.

‘Could I get a water?’ I asked, my head suddenly swimming with the realization that I’d absolutely chugged an entire glass of wine on an empty stomach. Not the perfect start to a Monday night. Or was it?

Rubbing my tired eyes, I looked back at the screen. Choose recipients? I started scrolling and clicking, scrolling and clicking, scrolling and clicking. It got very boring, very fast.

Yawning, I flicked my thumb upwards, sending the screen whirring all the way back to the top of the page. I clicked on Select All.

And then I pressed send.

CHAPTER THREE

‘Someone’s popular,’ Sumi said on the return from her mission to the loo. On the bar, my phone flashed with unread message after unread message.

‘Turns out a lot of people are bored and on their phones on a Monday night,’ I replied as the ‘welcome home’, ‘let’s get a drink’ and ‘who is this?’ texts flooded in. ‘I don’t even know why I have half these people in my contacts, I never text anyone apart from you, Adrian, Lucy and my sister.’

‘I am honoured,’ she drained her wine glass. ‘Shall we have another drink?’

‘Oh, go on,’ I said, pushing my water away. ‘Which way are the loos?’