throws a ball of paper at him. ‘You’re gorgeous, Hannah!’ she says, frowning at him.
Having ducked the paper, he’s now pretending to concentrate on work, but a dimple forms on his cheek. He’s trying not to laugh, and I can see by his face he’s thinking up a far worse punishment for Sameera than a rolled ball of paper.
Jas and I roll our eyes at each other, at the two ‘kids’ in the office.
A psychologist I worked with once told me that within a group of people, a family unit always emerges. However long they’ve known each other, people subconsciously take on familial roles, and I see this in our small team every day. Jas is in her early forties, she’s in charge and very much the alpha, the big sister of the group. I don’t think anyone would argue with my theory that at thirty-six, I’m the next big sister, while Sameera and Harry, both in their twenties, are the unruly kids.
I watch Jas as she answers a query from Harry about one of his clients. She’s so ‘on it’, knowing exactly who he’s talking about and responding clearly, in bullet points. She practises ‘controlled emotional involvement’, something we all know is the secret of a good social worker. She cares, she understands, she empathises, but doesn’t allow emotions to cloud her judgement. Unlike me.
Despite a pile of paperwork on my desk and at least five home visits to do today, all I can think about is Alex, and my emotions are clouding everything. I watch Jas through the glass of her office and wonder if she’s right that he’s like all the rest. As she said, I know it’s not just up to him to get in touch – but I want him to want a second date enough to call and ask me, rather than have me chase him.
A couple of hours later, I look up from my computer screen and realise, with a sharp sting, that he still hasn’t called. I wonder if he’s like me, and doesn’t want to be the one to call. How many great love affairs have been dashed on the rocks before they began because neither had the courage to make that first move?
I’d given up on men, until Jas told me about Meet your Match. She convinced me that I should ‘get back on the horse after Tom’.
‘Even if it’s just a bloke you can go to the cinema with, sleep with, someone to put your bins out,’ she’d said.
‘I want more than that,’ I’d replied, as we sat at the bar of The Orange Tree that night.
‘There’s no such thing as a man who wants commitment. They all just want a one-night stand,’ she said, as we sipped on Porn Star Martinis – ‘our’ drink.
‘But I want a home, a family, three kids and… a Labrador. I want a big garden with a trampoline and holidays in Devon, like we did when I was a kid… and…’
‘Pina coladas and walks in the rain?’ She’d sighed. ‘That’s why you can’t find anyone. I mean, talk of Labradors and kids would scare any normal man off. I think you need to be a bit more like me and lower your standards. All I ask is that a man is good in bed, makes a mean cheese on toast, doesn’t ask too many questions… and who needs a dog and kids anyway?’
Jas is ‘seeing someone’ but not in a relationship. She’s recently been hooking up with a teacher she met while working on a family case. They live their own lives and just meet up now and then, which she says she’s happy with, but recently he hasn’t been returning her calls, and she told me she thinks he’s seeing someone else. I didn’t think it would bother her too much, she’s always said she isn’t looking for commitment, doesn’t want to be married again, but I sometimes wonder if she’s lying to herself. She’s forty-two and she loves kids, and whatever she says, I worry she might regret not being a mother. Perhaps I’m just imposing my fears on her, because I very much want marriage and kids and I’m not playing games with myself pretending I don’t. I know it might sound old-fashioned, but that’s what I want, a family of my own, and someone who’s committed enough to stay with me beyond next weekend.
Jas’s weekends are spent drinking too much wine, catching up on work and cleaning her house.