pair of them, keeping the messages as true to the originals as possible, though making the ones to David flirtier and more suggestive, and the ones to Bea wittier and closer to what I was sure her version of the ideal man would be. This was easier than I’d imagined when I’d first come up with the idea; it might just work.
When David’s text messages started to take on a more ominous sexual edge, I very nearly put an end to the whole thing. I had to remind myself more than once why I was doing all this, and once I’d pushed it to the back of my mind, I barely remembered my brief guilty conscience.
After only a few days it became exhausting. Playing piggy-in-the-middle between the two of them, making sure neither one suspected they weren’t talking directly to the other, took up time I didn’t have.
Now the phone bleeped again and I shoved it under one of the sofa cushions without glancing at it. All I felt was irritation. My legs were restless but I didn’t have the energy to go anywhere or see anyone. I knew the feeling would pass, but it had been happening more and more recently, the feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach without even knowing what I was dreading, the weight of my body almost impossible to move. There were so many things I needed to do, so much of my plan still to put in place, but I was exhausted. If only I could rest, just for one day. Forget everything that was going on, go back to trying to live my normal life.
I closed my eyes and imagined a huge white duvet, thick, soft and bouncy, pulled up high around my shoulders with only my face peering out from beneath. I could almost feel the warmth seeping over me. A lie-down wouldn’t kill me. Just until I felt better. Just until I could open my eyes again. It was all so exhausting.
62
Bea
Bea resisted the urge to glance in the mirror for the fifteenth time before leaving the flat, double-checking the door was locked behind her. Considering she hadn’t even wanted to be set up when Karen had first mentioned it, she’d spent a ridiculous amount of time getting ready. Trying to choose the right outfit had been a real ball ache: not too much on show (don’t want to give the wrong impression) but enough to impress. She’d settled on a dark red fitted dress with a relatively high neck and a silk scarf. No cleavage, but form-fitting enough to make her hours in the gym worth it. Hopefully David from IT would be worth it too. The only thing dampening her excitement now was that she couldn’t talk to Karen about it, pump her for information the way she would have done before. Damn Eleanor and her principles. After tonight she was going to contact Karen herself, try to play mediator and work out some way of making this Michael situation okay.
She’d been exchanging text messages with this guy for just over a week now and was surprised at how funny and charming he seemed. Karen wasn’t known for setting her up with the most charismatic of guys; she seemed to think Bea would do better staying away from the charming, good-looking types. But she was more than ready to be proved wrong with this one, and she’d made a real effort just in case. After everything that had happened over the last few weeks, she felt like it might finally be time to give a guy a real chance. Why should she be content to watch everyone around her settle down happily while she punished herself for something that had happened so many years ago? It was time to stop being afraid.
She had done everything by the Just In Case He’s A Psychopath Handbook For Girls. They had arranged to meet at a bar in town, a busy place where Bea would be safe and surrounded by people. She’d set up a signal with Eleanor: she would one-bell her if she needed her to call with a fake emergency, although she was pretty sure he would see straight through that one. Not that she was bothered about hurting his feelings. If she disliked him enough to invoke an emergency call, then she wasn’t going to be too worried about seeing him again. She cringed when she imagined the lecture she was in for from Karen if