It Started With A Tweet(54)

I try to picture Ru being the kind of dad who’d do nappy runs and push a baby in a pram, but it’s hard to imagine.

‘Have you told him this?’

‘I’ve tried, but he doesn’t really understand.’

‘Maybe it was him who you should have brought on your digital detox and not me.’

She smiles. ‘Maybe you’re right. When did you get so wise?’

‘I have always been very wise; you always just ignored what I had to say because I’m your annoying little sister.’

‘Oh yeah,’ she says nodding.

I fill up our glasses without asking. It feels like too deep a conversation to be having with our glasses empty.

‘I think the problem with your generation’, she says, as if there’s a bigger gap than three years, ‘is that you’re too reliant on technology. I mean, I met Rupert in the students’ union. I pinched him on the bum, thinking he was one of my flatmates, and when he turned round all confused we started chatting. If you’d shown me a photo of him beforehand I would have told you that he wasn’t my type. He was practically bald even then. But after an hour of chatting I was smitten. You need to go out and meet a man in real life.’

‘In real life,’ I say, repeating it and laughing. ‘If only it were that bloody simple. No one talks to anyone in London, it’s not like I could strike up a conversation with a hot guy on the tube.’

‘But what about at work or meeting someone through a friend of a friend?’

I shake my head. I didn’t fancy any of my work colleagues and I know most of my friends’ friends. My social circle gets smaller every year as people start moving out to the suburbs or commuter towns and start having kids. House parties have become a thing of the past, now it’s afternoon barbecues where nearly everyone goes with their partners and offspring, and I’m usually left feeling like Bridget Jones.

‘I just find the whole idea of apps creepy. It’s like you’re buying a man off Amazon.’

‘Oh, I wish you could buy a man off Amazon. How great would that be, being able to customise the different bits and then return him if he wasn’t right? Ooh and you could read reviews before you ordered.’

Rosie shakes her head at me. ‘I just think dating was easier back in the day. We didn’t really use our phones as much when we lived in halls, so Rupert used to slip notes under my door and that’s how we’d arrange to meet each other.’

I see that her cheeks have started to go pink.

‘Now who’s the one going beetroot?’

She laughs a little before coughing. ‘Just remembering one of his notes that really made me, um, laugh. I know that people text these days, but I don’t think it’s the same as seeing pen on paper.’

I pat the pocket on my jeans under the table, feeling the paper under the fabric. I actually know what she means. Getting that note from Jack was the highlight of my day, and he was been funny and just a little flirty with me, wasn’t he? And he is cute, in that rugged, outdoorsy, dressed-like-a-yeti type of way. If Alexis is going to go off to the pub and not invite me, maybe Jack would be more interested.

‘You’ll meet someone,’ she says, finishing the rest of her drink. ‘Who knows, when you go back to London and start a new job, you might meet someone at work.’

‘Maybe .?.?.’

‘Ah,’ she screams, jumping up. ‘We have to dance to this.’

The violin intro to Steps’ ‘5, 6, 7, 8’ starts to play, and I watch Rosie start line dancing around the kitchen. I stand up with ease – the Baileys has been medicinal after all, I barely have any pain in my muscles now. I start shimmying around and lassoing as I try and copy Rosie’s moves.

‘Oh God,’ she says, laughing as the song comes to an end. ‘I’ve gotta pee so badly. What stupid idiot thought it would be a good idea to get drunk and to have a Portaloo outside instead of an actual toilet?’ She grabs a head torch from the table and slips it on over her head. ‘I’ll be back,’ she says in an Arnold Schwarzenegger voice.

I watch her go and sit back at the table. I can’t help but pull Jack’s note out of my pocket and read it again. Rosie’s right, there is something about seeing it handwritten in pen.

Without thinking, I shove it back in my pocket and grab my notepad and pen, which are still on the table.



Dear Jack,

No need to apologise about seeing me naked. Tons of guys have already.



I rip the paper from the pad and screw it up. That’s not quite the impression of myself I want to give him.



Dear Jack,

No need to apologise about seeing me naked, you’ve already groped my arse, so what’s a little flesh between neighbours (or friends, hopefully)? Thanks to Buster, we now have no shower, so likely you’ll smell me before you see me. Rosie says there’s a stream nearby, so if the weather ever improves maybe I can go for a skinny dip – FYI, just in case Buster likes to go pigeon hunting there too .?.?.



I can hear the Portaloo door squeak outside, before the sound of footsteps coming across the courtyard and I know I’ve got to hurry.



Anyway, see you around, neighbour. Maybe I’ll be over some day for some sugar.

Daisy x

P.S. I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that you won’t tell me who presented The Price is Right or that you googled it in the first place.