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eat a damn thing. Do you know they have almonds in the salad? You’d think they’d put on a few fish fingers just in case. This is going to be even worse than the Stricklands’ wedding, and that made me sick.’
    â€˜You were drunk.’
    â€˜God, yeah.’
    Clelland raised his eyebrows.
    â€˜This is Oliver,’ I introduced him. ‘My, er, boyfriend.’
    Why the ‘er’? I was conscious that perhaps I wasn’t sounding as thrilled as I could.
    Clelland put his hand out. ‘Hi.’
    â€˜Hi,’ said Olly, holding out his hand.
    â€˜Clelland’s an old school friend.’
    I’d never told Olly about Clelland. At first it was because I was obeying the ‘don’t tell new boyfriend about exes; they must think you’re a virgin’ type bullshit law. And then … well, some things are private. Also, I think if we knew all about how people behaved when they were teenagers, no one would ever go out with anyone.

    â€˜Nice to meet you,’ said Olly gruffly.
    Looking at them both, I felt very strange suddenly. I wasn’t comparing them. Definitely not. This was not a competitive thing. Clelland still had a chance to appear a complete prick.
    â€˜Olly’s a lawyer,’ I said helpfully.
    â€˜Really? And I shook your hand?’ said Clelland, and smiled.
    I’d hardly ever seen his smile. Not something suburban rebels do very often, smile. They talk about suicide and Leonard Cohen quite a lot. It was lovely. His teeth were slightly crooked, and the incisors pointed in.
    â€˜Oh gosh, yes, sorry about that. But we only really screw you if you’re a multinational, our lot,’ said Ol. ‘Just the sixth circle of hell really.’
    â€˜So you’re not one of those chaps that advertises on telly for fat ladies who fall off their chairs at work?’
    â€˜No. Although I help Flo, you know, when it happens at home,’ he said with a grin.
    â€˜Yes,’ said Clelland in the way people have to when someone makes a slightly off-colour remark. I couldn’t tell if he thought it was funny either.
    â€˜What line are you in then?’ said Olly, half eyeing a waitress carrying a bowl of prawn toast. He reached out a hand and took four.
    â€˜How come you can eat sesame seeds on toast and not on sausages?’ I said without thinking. Both the boys looked at me.
    â€˜Because it’s toast,’ said Olly, as if explaining to a four-year-old. ‘Anything can be done with toast.’
    Clelland stuck his bottom lip out at me.
    â€˜Um … I’m an ethical logistician.’
    â€˜A what?’ I said.

    â€˜Oh. Do you perform on stage a lot?’ said Ol. ‘Puppets and so on?’
    â€˜No …’
    â€˜OK, what is that then?’
    â€˜Well, I try to direct aid through the best routes. Try to play down the possibility of it being hijacked by armies, that kind of thing.’
    I admit it. My heart leaped. This was exactly the kind of thing I’d have dreamed he’d be doing. Well, that or some sort of tragic Moulin Rouge -style poet, obviously, but this – heroic, good for the world, manly – I had a vision of him standing on top of an elephant, for some reason. Then, I’m ashamed to say, one of me looking like Meryl Streep in Out of Africa -style linens, saying, ‘I hed a ferm in Efrica …’
    â€˜I hate it,’ said Clelland. ‘It’s a pissy job.’
    â€˜Really? It sounds interesting,’ said Olly.
    â€˜Everyone says that.’ He ran his hand through his dark hair. ‘It’s bloody endless government bureaucracy, and as to how much good we even do at the end of the day I couldn’t tell you. Certainly doesn’t seem to make anything any better. God, I’m sorry. Am I being really depressing at a wedding? Was I always like this?’
    He looked directly at me, and I couldn’t meet his eyes. Get a grip, I told myself