I’m glad Jess is back. Now the house is full, it feels sort of . . . complete, somehow. I’m sure she said she’s not starting work until the second week of January. Maybe I’ll see if she fancies coming for a walk tomorrow, to find her feet a bit. It’ll be nice to have a friend who’s a girl, and not a girlfriend. I miss Lucy’s point of view on things – since she and Jack got together they basically come as a package.

I lace up my boots and I think about Jess chopping limes and chatting to me in the kitchen. Grudgingly, I have to admit to myself that in another life, Jess would be completely my type. She’s funny and she’s interesting, and I love the fact that she’s doing the same as me: taking the plunge to try something new and start life over again. It’d be good to have a partner in crime. It makes it seem less terrifying, somehow.

Chapter Five: Jess

Chapter Five

Jess

10th January

‘What’s with you and the whole Instagram thing?’ Alex asks.

He’s walking behind me on a narrow pavement in Covent Garden when I stop dead. He almost crashes into the back of me. I turn around, before he’s stepped back, and we’re so close we’re almost touching. I stumble backwards, knocking into the wooden shutter of the cheese shop.

‘Sorry,’ I say, but he’s laughing.

‘It’s fine. I just . . . What’re you even taking a photo of?’

I motion to the alleyway to our left. ‘I love stuff like that. Little hidden doorways and things.’

‘Right.’

‘Let me just . . .’ I fiddle with the phone then hit share. ‘Sorry. Done now.’

‘Shall we stop for lunch?’ he asks.

‘Yeah.’ I point to the sign that beckons us through the little alleyway. ‘There’s a café upstairs there, in Neal’s Yard.’

We climb the stairs, which are rainbowed with a million postcards and posters, advertising everything from toddler gymnastics to Chakra Rebalancing.

‘D’you get your chakras rebalanced often?’ Alex grins.

‘Never. That’s probably why I’m so clumsy.’

‘Maybe they should start offering it on the NHS.’

The café’s cramped and the staff seem slightly frazzled, which feels at odds with the whole hippy Zen vibe it’s giving off from the signs outside. We find an empty table. The uneven walls are painted with thick white paint, and woven hangings are displayed on a rail with price tags underneath. I lean forward, thinking I must have read it wrong, but no.

‘They want £120 for that?’ I nudge Alex and his eyes widen in surprise. He passes me a menu. We both look at it in silence for a moment.

‘Hi, people,’ says a tall woman with her braids tied back in a thick ponytail. ‘Do you need time to have a think, or are you ready to order?’