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intellectual, as Rich had promised. But rather than being stimulated, as Tash had expected, she was paralysed. She knew she’d come across as dim, which was infuriating. Still, there was plenty of time for her to drop into conversation that she had actually read Salman Rushdie’s The Satanic Verses and James Joyce’s Ulysses . She hoped that one day they’d be friends enough for her to admit that she hadn’t actually enjoyed either book.
    But Mia.
    ‘Absolutely, they loved you,’ enthused Rich, interrupting Tash’s thoughts and ignoring the nuances of the evening.
    ‘Well, why wouldn’t they? I’m very nice.’
    ‘Mia even made up a nickname for you, a rare honour. Come on, leave the washing up. I’ll do it in the morning.’
    Tash peeled off the rubber gloves and allowed Rich to lead her by the hand up the stairs.
    ‘Have you ever slept with Mia?’ asked Tash, as they undressed and slipped between the sheets.
    ‘Yeah, a long time ago. Just once.’ Telling Tash about old lovers was easy. Their pledge to be totally honest with one another demanded a level of trust and an expectation of clear-headed responses.
    ‘That explains a lot,’ stated Tash simply, as she fought a yawn.
    ‘It wasn’t an exclusive club.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘Well, obviously there was Jason. They used to be an item, but she’s slept with Ted, too.’
    ‘Ted?’
    ‘Yeah.’
    ‘Blimey.’
    ‘I’m not sure Kate knows that.’
    ‘No, I don’t suppose she does.’ Tash rolled on top of Rich and started to kiss his chest; he stroked her back. ‘What was Mia’s nickname, then?’ she asked between kisses.
    ‘Bridge, as in the game. Very complex.’
    ‘Given what you’ve just told me I’d have had her down as “Poker”.’
    Rich laughed, and moved closer to kiss Tash. They kissed for a very long time. Slowly exploring each other’s mouth, tongue and lips as if for the first time, not for the thousandth. Tash took hold of Rich’s hard penis and guided it inside her. Gently, she rode him, and they made love very quietly, very carefully. When Rich came, Tash lay exactly where she was until it became uncomfortable. Then she rolled off him, and they lay side by side, Rich spooned around Tash.
    ‘How many people have you slept with, Rich?’ asked Tash curiously. ‘Do you keep count?’
    ‘I have a number, but I couldn’t put a name to every one.’
    ‘That’s awful,’ said Tash, as she playfully hit him. ‘How insensitive. So, go on, how many?’
    ‘I can’t tell you that.’
    ‘You have to,’ she giggled. Rich leant close to her ear and whispered the number.
    ‘No!’ she yelled, feigning shock and horror.
    ‘What? What should I have said? What’s the right number?’
    ‘I’m teasing you. The correct number is the real number, however many or few that may be. I mean, what’s the right scenario? Would I have preferred it if you’d slept with fewer women and had had longer relationships? Or would it have been better if there had been lots more, but you’d never cared for anyone at all before me? I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Everyone has a history.’
    ‘Oh, yeah?’ smiled Rich. ‘I thought you were a virgin when we met,’ he joked.
    ‘Right,’ laughed Tash.
    Eventually, their breathing slowed, and they were seconds away from a peaceful, slightly drunken sleep when Tash thought to ask, ‘By the way, what nickname did Mia give me?’
    ‘Didn’t I say?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘She called you “Barbie”, as in–’
    ‘Barbie doll.’
    Rich fell asleep, and Tash was left wondering whether the nickname could be interpreted as anything other than a declaration of war.

8. Lloyd
    It was late October, but still startlingly warm. The leaves on the trees had turned red and were starting to fall. A warm, honey light dripped through the gaps left between the branches and rested on a blanket of conkers and colour that lay on the ground. The majority of Londoners took advantage of the mild autumn. They