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come back, it was going to be on my terms. This time, Fran would be proud of me.
    OK: we’d have lots of togetherness. No more him vanishing with the lads … But then, what if I was just being all clingy and wouldn’t leave him alone and he got really, really bored and I did too and we ended up just staying in and saying things like, ‘Err, do you want to go to the cinema then?’ ‘Errr … don’t mind …’ ‘What do you want to go and see?’ ‘Don’t mind …’ until we both killed ourselves! Maybe nitch that one then.
    OK, we’d have lots of open public affection. Not snogging, necessarily, but a bit of hand-holding wouldn’t go amiss, so he didn’t look like my cousin fromthe attractive end of the family if I ever met anyone I knew.
    And he could at least try and get on with my friends. Although they all hated him.
    I phoned Fran again.
    â€˜Leave me alone. You are no longer my friend. You fraternize with the untouchable ones.’
    â€˜Fraaan.’ My genuine panic was beginning to show through.
    â€˜OK. Here’s one test. He’s been away for ten months, right?’
    â€˜Yep. I’ve had my hair done.’
    â€˜Oh, that’s pretty subtle … Anyway, he’s been away for ten months. After vanishing completely and never contacting you again …’
    â€˜Apart from the postcard.’
    â€˜The postcard you got two days ago when he remembered he’d left Charlie in the shit and needed to find somewhere else to stay.’
    â€˜Mmm.’
    â€˜OK. Those are the facts. You are dumb enough to be there waiting for him. As a hypothetical test, one might think it would be the least little considerate thing he could do to buy you a present, right?’
    â€˜Oh, Alex doesn’t really believe in giving presents. He thinks it’s bourgeois.’
    Now what was she sighing for?
    â€˜God, Mel, what are you doing? Tell me you’re not putting him up.’
    â€˜Mmm.’
    â€˜Fantastic. Have you told Linda about the new addition to your jolly little Kennington family?’
    â€˜Oh, she’ll be fine. She won’t say anything.’
    â€˜That means the same thing, does it?’
    I was getting too upset to talk. I mean, what did my best friend since age four know about my life anyway?
    â€˜Mel, you know I wouldn’t say anything if I wasn’t worried about you and if I didn’t care about you, don’t you?’
    â€˜Yes,’ I mumbled ungratefully.
    â€˜Give me a ring when he gets in then. When’s that going to be?’
    â€˜Ehmm, anywhere in the next fifteen hours.’
    â€˜OK. Cool. Bye.’
    It was true. Alex did a horrid, horrid thing to me. It’s just, oh, Alex’s problems – where to start? Public school, weird distant parents who divorced early, that whole deal. I was psychologically-tastic when it came to Alex. When I’d met him he’d just emerged from his last finding-his-own-anus phase in Goa. Well, I wasn’t going to be his doormat any more.
    Oh good, only six hours to go.
    Wanting to avoid another ear-bashing, but desperate for someone to talk to, I phoned Amanda. Some bloke picked up the phone.
    â€˜Hello, is Amanda there?’
    â€˜No, she’s not. Can I take a message?’
    I recognized that accent!
    â€˜Frase! Hi, it’s Melanie!’
    There was a pause.
    â€˜Melanie …’
    â€˜Melanie Pepper. You remember! Mel!’
    Jesus.
    â€˜Oh, hi, hi there. Yes. What are you up to these days?’
    Oh, I’m just sitting in Heathrow Airport, where I’ve turned up fifteen hours early by mistake, having my hair set and waiting for my selfish ex-boyfriend who left me in shit nearly a year ago, and whom I still haven’t got over, to – possibly – return from America, having walked out of my job this morning with no explanation.
    â€˜Oh, you know … usual