Rachel nodded at him, not trusting herself to say anything back in case her voice cracked.
She wanted to believe him – wanted him to be right, like he almost always was. She just didn’t see how it was possible.
May
New Year’sOngoing resolutions
1. Consider exercise an act with actual benefits – both mental and physical – not merely grim punishment for pizzas consumed.Have a proper go atContinue letting Greg drag me to yoga.provided he refrains from making snide comments re Jack/me and Jack. Give up trying to control subject matter discussed over dinner.
2.Also re-downloadComplete Couch to 5K running app andactually do the programme.Keep running at least twice per week –alwaysbeing careful not to perv on anyone improper.
3. Apply for promotion at work at first chance. Move to bigger account and try to get pay rise. Avoid, if possible, further projects concerning dog biscuits, disinfectant, high-quality printer ink cartridges, ‘miracle’ grass seed, organic vegetables, etc.
3a. Try to hang on to job (and temper) despitepresence of evil ex-boyfriendhideousnesscontrol-freakery of certain clients.
3b. Ignore everyone who keeps banging on about how fitheJack is.
3c. Ignore how fit he is.
3d. Ignore the fact hekeeps trying to be friendly/nice/possibly quite flirtatiousis openly trying to shag me.
3e. Ignore the fact he is getting divorced.
4. DO NOT agree to further dates with Laurence. Remember: it’s no use having a boyfriend who is good on paper if you do not actually fancy him.
4. Forget that Laurence even EXISTS(despite usefulness of overblown ‘romantic’ gestures for creating illusion of deeply devoted boyfriend. Try not to spin any more tales re ‘boyfriend’though – don’t want story to get too complicated … )– situation is already quite complicated enough.
5. Try to remember Mum means well, even during phone calls where sheimplies I am doomed to a lonely life of penury because I am thirty with no partner, hardly any savings and no mortgageinsists on talking about the babies/breasts of people I went to school with.
6. HOWEVER,do not(!!!) speak to Mum when suffering PMT. Set phone alerts for likely spells based on period tracker intel.
7. Try to address ‘hardly any savings’ situation.(If promoted, set aside extra earnings for future house deposit instead of spaffing it all on ASOS.)(Do not spend entire pay rise on‘cheer up’ treats to distract from heinous ex-boyfriend mess.)hot new outfits for work – see 3c.)
8. Try to eat my five-a-day. (Remember horrid rule that potatoes do not count.)
9.Start using proper night cream with retinol.SERIOUSLY.Regularly apply retinol cream purchased from Boots in pursuit of perfect, Dev-style skin.
10. Do the best possible job helping Tom with exhibition. Be supportive and discreet re Oscar.Avoid arguing with Tom about Jack.
11. Be a good friend (and bridesmaid) to Anna. Help with wedding organisation and keep selfish, sad worries about how much I’ll miss her to myself.
25
It was unusual for Rachel to take a half-day off work, but today she was going to start the weekend early. Anna wanted to meet her at some random shop in Wood Green, near school, and she had a free period every Friday afternoon. Coincidentally, this was the only time when the ‘by appointment’ store she’d found could open for them.
‘We can make an event of it,’ Anna had said. ‘Look at the dresses, spend some quality time together and then get to the Hope nice and early.’
Rachel hadn’t had the heart to argue, though she was apprehensive. What sort of place would Anna be dragging her tothistime? So far they’d been to look at wedding gowns in swanky boutiques, high-end department stores and specialist dressmakers’ studios. They’d drunk a fair amount of free Prosecco, but nothing they’d found had been right. Not a single dress Anna tried on had felt likeher, somehow.
‘I look like an ornate toilet roll holder,’ she’d said of a voluminous French lace gown in a bridal shop in Kensington – much to the chagrin of the owner.
‘More like a pint-sized Disney princess …’ Rachel had replied in a vain attempt at diplomacy. Anna had glowered at her. ‘… Which is obviouslynotthe look you’re going for.’
Anna was already waiting outside the shop when Rachel arrived. It was a small place, but neat, tidy and stylish. The storefront was painted dark grey and there were two beautifully dressed mannequins in the window.
One was in a midnight-blue evening dress, and the other wore a diaphanous chiffon gown in pale turquoise. It had long sleeves with flamboyant feather trim that had been dyed bright cyan. Both garments, Rachel thought, were probably 1960s originals – dresses made decades before she and Anna were even born. The sign above the door announced, in shiny bronze letters, that the shop’s name was Tempo.
‘It’s a vintage boutique!’ Rachel cried, smiling.