‘What’s that for an answer? Come on, Em. What is it, are you afraid or what?’

‘Okay, all right!’ Her voice was raised now, and she felt her neck flushing with heat. ‘Yes, I am bloody afraid … afraid no one will ever match up. How can they? And if, in some fantasy universe, they ever did? What the fuck then! What if something happened to them? I don’t want to go back to that place, Bev. I don’t want to ever go near those feelings again! So yes, I am bloody afraid … You happy now?’

‘No. Oh, Em …’ She placed her arm around her friend. ‘Hey, I’m sorry, hun. So sorry. I didn’t realise it was still so raw for you. I know you’ve told me about Luke, what happened. But seven years, Em. It’s seven years.’

‘I know.’

‘But hey, jeez, I didn’t know you then. I never saw how much it must have hurt at the time, did I? I see you now, strong and independent and beautiful.’ She stroked her friend’s red wavy hair. ‘And it just seems such a waste. But forgive me, I’m just a silly bloody woman who’s had too much Prosecco and hasn’t got a clue how hard it must be. How do I know how that might feel seven years on?’

‘Yes, you are a silly bloody woman.’ The edge of Emma’s lip started to sneak up into the trace of a smile. ‘A silly bloody woman in a zebra-print onesie.’

And they slung their arms round each other in a hug.

Two days later, Emma picked up the phone and dialled.

‘Okay, so I’ll go.’

‘Is that you, Em? Um, what are you talking about? Go where?’

‘On that date thing that’s not a date, that cinema trip or whatever you’re planning with Pete’s mate in a couple of weeks’ time. What did you say his name was?’

‘You will? That’s great! Well, that’s a bit of a turnaround … well done you! And he’s called Nigel.’

‘Ni-gel, how could I have forgotten? Can I back out already?’

‘Hah, don’t judge by a name. He looks more like a Brent.’

‘And what does a Brent look like?’

‘Blond, American?’ Bev suggested.

‘Well, I’m conjuring up Brent from that TV programme, The Office. And it’s not doing anything for me.’

‘Hah, he’s fine; not bad-looking, in fact. Easy to chat with.’

‘Okay, that’ll do. I’ve said I’ll go, so I’ll go. But don’t expect too much from me. Just friends, on a normal night out. Okay?’

‘O-kay. It’ll be fun.’

Emma wasn’t quite so sure. But even she could see it was about time she got herself out and about a bit more. She couldn’t hide behind the chocolate forever.

8