‘Exactly.’

‘And that’s why we’ve decided to stage an intervention.’

‘I’m beginning to feel slightly nervous.’

Sophie shakes her head, and her pale blonde hair lifts and settles back down, still perfectly neat. ‘No need. We’ve found you The Perfect Man.’

‘There’s no such thing,’ I say.

‘Ah,’ says Sophie, pulling her phone out of her bag, ‘there is. Look.’

‘I’m not signing up for online dating again. I had to delete Tinder – every time I looked at it there were dodgy messages from perverts, telling me what they’d like to do to me, or what they were doing to themselves, or worse. And the photographs?’ I shudder dramatically.

‘Will you stop talking for one second?’ Sophie pushes her phone across to me and I pick it up.

There’s a photograph on her screen. I zoom in on the picture so I can see it more clearly. It’s a blond man with dark brown eyes. He’s holding a bottle of beer and standing next to Sophie. They look a bit like a pair of Danish twins. Both tall, healthy-looking, blond, and with impossibly good teeth. Weirdly, he reminds me a bit of the man I saw in the hailstorm that day before Christmas. Only presumably Sophie isn’t trying to set me up with someone who already has a boyfriend.

‘Who’s that?’ I ask.

‘James.’ Sophie takes the phone away, looking slightly smug. I reach across, grabbing it back and zooming in on the photo again. He looks nice. Friendly.

‘Is he gay?’ I ask.

‘I beg your pardon?’ Sophie takes the phone back, laughing. ‘Thought you weren’t interested.’

‘I’m not,’ I say. He does look quite nice though. ‘What’s the catch?’

‘No catch,’ says Gen. She’s doodling absent-mindedly on the expensive-looking menu, drawing groups of tiny little daisies. A waitress comes past and swipes it from her hands, giving her a disapproving look.

‘Would you like anything else?’ she says to Gen, who’s already wolfed down her sandwich.

‘I’d like another coffee, please – decaf, thanks.’ Sophie smiles up at her.

‘I’ll have a diet Coke, thanks,’ says Gen.

I look out of the window and watch as a couple of tourists wander by, hand-in-hand. It’s weird, but recently everywhere I’ve looked people seem to be loved up and I’ve felt like a spare part, sitting in cafés watching the world go by and with a vague sense that my life is going by too, and if I don’t do anything about it, I’m going to wake up one morning and find I’m forty-five, still single, and still wondering what I’m going to be when I grow up. I square my shoulders and turn back to look at Sophie.

‘So what’s the deal with James?’

‘He works in the marketing department with me. Really lovely. Single – no skeletons in the closet. As soon as he was transferred in last month I thought he’d be perfect for you.’

‘Okay,’ I say, feeling bold. ‘Where do I sign?’