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move on if you want one like us’.
    It wasn’t as though he hadn’t tried. Take Tatty. When he’d first met her, he’d been certain that she’d been The One. It had taken all his willpower not to march her out of the restaurant on their first date and take her straight to the jewellers before a quick look at Mothercare. In the event, he had held out for three dates only to find that although she accepted the engagement ring, she turned down the Mothercare tour.
    ‘I’m not ready for babies yet,’ she had declared in that guttural accent of hers which kept mistaking ‘e’ for ‘i’ and  ‘x’ for ‘z’ or vice versa, although sometimes he suspected it was just for effect.
    What was wrong with girls nowadays? Nancy had laughed when he’d asked her that and said something about not rushing into things too fast as he had done before. She had, Ed had told himself, a point. He’d give Tatty a couple of months to change her mind and then . . . well, frankly, he’d just have to move on.
    Which was where he was right now. Rehearsing his goodbye speech in front of the mirror; a trick that Dad had taught him years ago to make sure he projected the right facial expressions. Sympathetic. Caring. But realistic.
    ‘Listen Tatty, darling. I don’t know how you feel but personally, I don’t think I’m good enough for you.’
    His reflection shook his head. Too much of a cliché. Maybe it was the mirror that was putting him off hitting the exact right note for his ‘goodbye’ speech to Tatty. Perhaps he ought to address the water bed instead. No. Too many memories. The wall then, with that sensual Indian picture above the Jacuzzi.
    ‘Tatty. I’m sorry. You’re always saying how important it is to tell the truth. So I’m going to be frank with you! It’s not because I can read your ribs like Braille. It’s not the sex – which is amazing. Or that it’s like kissing a nicotine-flavoured G and T without the ice and lemon. It’s because you don’t want babies and – I’m really sorry to say this – you’re not the woman I’ve been looking for.’
    What kind of woman, Nancy often asked him, was the kind of woman he was looking for? ‘We’re not perfect, you know,’ she would say, tilting her perfect profile towards him. ‘And frankly, Ed, if you’re going to continue looking for someone who ticks all the right boxes, you’re setting yourself up for disappointment.’
    Was she right, wondered Ed as he tried dialling Tatty’s number again, listening to the long distance tones and hoping that the voicemail wouldn’t kick in. It wasn’t what his father had always told him. Ever since he’d started dating, his father had been quite clear. ‘If it’s not right, son, move on. Life’s too short for compromise. But never leave on a sour note. Tell them it’s you and not them. Explain they’ll be better off without you. And if they need it, look after them financially. Above all, be fair.’
    Dad – talk about a perfectionist! – had certainly left him enough to do that. Not that Ed believed in flaunting his wealth. But there were times when he wondered if Tatty had been keener on his Porsche than his baby-rearing potential.
    ‘Tatty?’
    At last! She was picking up.
    ‘Hello! Hello? Are you there? I can hear YOU!’ Fit of giggles. ‘Just joking. Sorry – I’m not around but you know what to do! Byeeeeee!’
    She’d changed her voicemail message to the type that sounded – infuriatingly –  as though she was there in person instead of on yet another shoot in the Caribbean!
    ‘Tatty? It’s me. Ed. Your fiancé. Remember?’
    Too sarcastic. Too late to take it back.
    ‘We haven’t spoken for ages. Are you all right? I need to speak. I’ve got something I need to tell you.’
    Sod it. He might just as well go into work. Get some water cooler advice. It usually worked.
     
    Ed had discovered the water cooler on his second day of work nearly five years ago, after having worked for another