Page 112 of In the Same Boat

I really, truly, honestly think I’d rather get back on the apps. This place makes Matcher seem like a fairy tale.

Mum orders two cocktails then hands one to me.

‘To meeting new people,’ she says.

I reluctantly clink my glass with hers.

‘Hey, ladies,’ a tall man, probably pushing forty, says as he approaches us. ‘I wish I’d brought a buddy – I feel bad interrupting you and your friend.’

‘We’re not friends,’ Mum explains. ‘Well, we are, but this is my daughter.’

‘Your daughter?’ he blurts. ‘Did you adopt her when you were six?’

As Mum giggles gleefully, I realise it was her he came over to talk to, not me.

I take a big swig of my drink as they chat, hoping time will start to move faster.

I have spent the last week or so trying to get back to normal life, which would be easier if normal life hadn’t started looking faintly inadequate in comparison to our adventures in Monaco. My house is the same – Mum still lives with me. Work is the same. The men in the office still bug me. They still don’t think I’m good enough. I have still got emails to answer, reports to check and colleagues who ask me questions they could solve themselves if they could be bothered.

And yet everything feels different. Like things have changed in a way that I can’t undo.

I have tried not to think about him – Nico, I need to be brave enough to say his name – but he creeps into my thoughts now and then. I don’t know if it’s worse that I can’t message him, because I don’t have his number, or better, because it removes all temptation.

I keep thinking about the look on his face when I left on the stag-do yacht. He looked how I felt – crushed.

‘You’re doing that thing again,’ Mum says.

I notice her new fella has gone.

‘What thing?’ I ask.

‘Looking like you’re arguing with yourself and losing,’ she replies.

‘I’m not losing,’ I insist, although generally I do lose most of my argument simulations.

‘Anyway, come on, follow me, I’m meeting a friend here,’ she tells me.

‘You have a friend at a flirty thirties singles night?’ I reply – but of course she does. ‘You have friends in their thirties?’

‘Just you,’ she says, nodding towards one of the booths. ‘And him.’

The first person I notice is Hank, who I assume she isn’t referring to. Then I see Nico sitting next to him, looking as reluctant to be here as I feel.

Hank says something to Nico, then points in our direction. Nico glances around. He sees Mum first… then me.

His expression changes. Shock, happiness, then something that looks a little sad. Exactly how I’m feeling.

Hank, however, is grinning like the Cheshire cat, so he was obviously in on this with my mum.

‘No,’ I say. ‘Mum, no…’

Mum says nothing.

‘Did you…?’

‘Darling, I just want you to be happy,’ she insists. ‘Would you please go talk to him, clear the air?’

I look over at the two of them. I imagine Hank is giving Nico a similar pep talk.