the house, marooned in a sea of octogenarian curtain twitchers.
‘We totally have,’ she reassures me. ‘It’ll be an adventure, a whole new story for the Godwin Twins.’ Our mum used to make up outlandish narratives for us when we were kids, in which we’d travel to exotic destinations and solve mysteries. We’d always race upstairs to bed just so we could hear what happened next. She died when we were ten, and carrying on the conceit somehow makes it feel like we’re still holding on to a fragment of her. At least it does for me.
Rufus’s impeccable timing means that he turns up just as we’ve manhandled the last heavy item up the narrow stairs. ‘Sorry!’ he shouts up after us. ‘I was trying to write a code for a dialogue box and I lost track of time.’ Obviously we don’t pause to ask him what he means, we simply fall on the bottle of cheap white wine he’s brought and flop down on the sofa. ‘Couldn’t you have asked Steve to help?’ he asks innocently, clocking how exhausted we both look. Rufus’s lack of relationship experience is often painfully obvious.
‘Considering he pretty much said, “It’s not you, it’s me,” to end a two-year relationship, I don’t think it would’ve been quite the thing,’ snaps Alice.
I met Steve through a barrister friend of mine from university, who was determined that the two of us were a perfect match. She kept welding us together at parties and organizing elaborate dinners where her agenda was utterly transparent. It became a bit of a running joke between the two of us, which convinced me that he was totally uninterested. Besides, he seemed so sorted and self-sufficient, what with his thriving law practice and circle of scarily successful friends. When he finally made his move, after a drunken cab journey, I went with it. I definitely felt it in the moment, but now I look back on it, I wonder if timing played a bigger part than I realized. I was hurtling towards thirty, a good two years out of my last relationship. Snaring a good-on-paper boyfriend felt a bit like passing a test. But although I grew to love him (I think), some of those initial misgivings turned out to have a grain of truth. Do you think there’s a snapshot of what will ultimately drive you apart in the first five minutes of meeting someone? A warning from future history, if only you could grasp it? Even if there is, perhaps it’s better not to know, better to enjoy the moment, however fleeting.
I was in awe of Steve’s zest for life, his determination to get the most out of everything he did, but it did leave me feeling a tiny bit hopeless. I love my work, but it’s Zelda who’s the shining star. Steve always seemed charmed by me, if a bit bemused. I think he found me a total contrast to the kind of sharp-suited power bitches, jostling for partnership, who surrounded him at work. We had a lovely time together, no question, but when I think about it, I can see the writing was on the wall. I had a toothbrush and some tampons in his bathroom, but neither of us was pushing to go the whole hog. The idea of moving away from Alice is too gruesome to contemplate, so I guess I wanted to avoid touching on the territory until it became critical. As we approached the two-year mark, it was inevitable that we needed to start considering if our relationship was a keeper, particularly for someone as goal-orientated as Steve. Even so, the speed and brevity with which he delivered his decision made me realize how untouchable he must be in court. He loved me, but he couldn’t imagine us wanting to build the same life long term. His next couple of years needed to be all about work and he didn’t want to sell me short. I can’t yet decide how much of my pain is hurt pride and how much is a genuine sense of loss.
I snap out of my reverie, zeroing in on the ongoing argument that we’ve been having with Rufus.
‘It’s called “My Single Friend”, you realize,’ he says. ‘Not “My Single Little Brother”.’
‘That’s not the point,’ says Alice. ‘No one’s better qualified than us to sing your praises. What are you going to do, ask one of those social outcasts at work to do it? They’ll make you sound like a dalek.’