Page 10 of When Sparks Fly

I shrug, trying to downplay it, because it’s just a place.

‘Honestly, it’s not all that different from Leeds,’ I tell them. ‘Just bigger and busier.’

Mel raises an eyebrow.

‘Come on, it has to be more interesting than that,’ she pushes me. ‘Do you run into celebrities all the time?’

‘I bet you can’t go into a café without seeing a movie star,’ Angie adds. ‘I’ve seen Notting Hill.’

I’ve seen Jaws but I’m not expecting a shark to pop out of the sea and start eating people – I’m not not rooting for it though.

‘Not really,’ I tell them. ‘I mean, I’ve seen a couple of vaguely famous people, but it’s not like they’re everywhere. Most of the time, it’s just regular people going about their day.’

‘What about the nightlife?’ Mel asks, pausing to sip her drink. ‘Is it as wild as they make it seem on TV?’

‘Oh my God, do you do drugs?’ Angie asks, followed by a gasp. ‘I heard everyone does drugs in London.’

‘People do drugs here in Marram Bay,’ I point out. ‘But, no, I don’t do drugs, and yes, Mel, the nightlife is great. There is more choice than there is here.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with here,’ Angie reminds me. ‘And this is Mel’s boyfriend’s pub, don’t forget.’

Wow, I really can’t say the right thing, can I?

‘Do you ever get caught up in any drama, like people fighting in the street or dramatic break-ups in fancy restaurants?’ Mel asks, clearly not offended.

I can’t help but laugh.

‘No, my life wasn’t all that exciting,’ I tell her. ‘Sorry.’

‘Why on earth would you leave?’ Angie asks.

‘The cost of living,’ I reply. ‘And, well, this is my home. It’s good to be home.’

Angie eyeballs me suspiciously.

‘And free,’ she points out.

‘I guess,’ I reply with an awkward laugh. ‘But I’m going to find a job here, get my own place, and see about settling back in.’

I mean, I’m not certain that’s what I’m going to do, but it’s all I’m willing to tell her.

I spot the mysterious Mr L walking across the pub and my heart skips a beat.

‘I’ll be right back, I’ll just nip to the loo,’ I tell them, standing up.

‘No worries,’ Mel replies.

Oh God, what am I doing? I’m stalking him now? Who am I, Joe from You?

I guess I am because I follow him around the corner and up the stairs. Bloody hell, this place is like a Wetherspoons; it’s a genuine trek to the loos.

He goes through a door marked ‘toilets’, so I pick up the pace, only to find myself in a corridor full of doors, so I’m guessing the loos are individual now.

There’s no sign on the door next to me, but there’s a bit of tape, as though a sign might have fallen off. I decide to go in there for a few minutes, then walk back out, hoping to bump into him on the way back downstairs.

I walk through the door, into a small room with one cubicle and one sink. I head to the cubicle, pushing the door, only to realise it’s locked. It makes a loud clatter as I try it.

‘Someone’s in here,’ a voice calls out. Yep, it definitely sounds like Mr L. Perfect.