thinking, Hold on, maybe it has a point. Maybe the Joe-shaped hole in my heart could be filled by someone else.
Maybe it was time for me to stop hankering after someone I couldn’t have and find someone I could.
When I got to work, Robbie was already there. I couldn’t even use an arduous journey as an excuse, because my daily commute consisted of stepping out of my tiny flat, locking the door behind me, walking down a flight of slightly rickety wooden stairs, pushing open a door, and voila, there I was in the Ginger Cat, the pub where I worked as a chef. But Robbie had beat me to it, as he usually did, and was already sliding two loaf tins into the oven.
It was his enthusiasm that had led me to hire him, two months before – that, and the fact that he was cheap, cheerful and touchingly grateful to be offered his first proper job in a professional kitchen. Not that the tiny cubbyhole where the two of us worked practically elbow to elbow was the most professional of workplaces. But I loved it, and so did Robbie, who worked all the hours I’d let him, with boundless energy and the ability to function on about two hours’ sleep a night.
‘Morning.’ I flicked the switch on the coffee machine and heard it roar encouragingly to life. ‘What have you got there?’
‘Date and banana bread. It’s gluten free, dairy free and refined-sugar free. The punters are going to love it. And so am I – was out until four and I’m hanging so badly, Zoë. Any chance of a coffee?’
‘Sure. Double espresso with three sugars?’
‘You’re a lifesaver.’
‘So what were you up to last night?’
Robbie leaned a snake-like hip against the stainless-steel worktop and ran his hand through his hair. It was dyed bright blue at the front and shaved into a careful fade at the sides, showing off his multiple piercings and ear tunnel.
‘Ah, nothing much.’ He ducked his head.
‘Go on! You know I need to live vicariously through you, since I have no social life of my own.’
‘I finished my shift here, and then I went home.’
I gave him my best hard stare. ‘And then…? Don’t tell me you were up watching box sets until four in the morning and getting shitfaced on your own.’
‘Oh, okay. So I had a new Grindr date over.’
‘What, someone you met on a dating app, over to your place? Just like that?’
‘Sure. My flatmates were asleep, they didn’t notice. And if they had, they’d have given zero fucks.’
‘So who was he? Someone you’ve met before?’
‘Never. And never will again. He was useless in the sack.’
Robbie peered into the oven. The kitchen was beginning to fill with the mouthwatering smell of cinnamon. Over the weeks I’d known him, I should have got used to Robbie’s casual attitude to relationships, but it still had the power to surprise me. The idea of inviting some stranger from the internet over to your home, having sex with them, and then hustling them out of the door while they were still putting their socks on shocked and impressed me in equal measure.
Also, although there were only about five or so years between us, Robbie had the ability to make me feel about a hundred years old.
‘I thought you Generation Z-ers were meant to be going through a sex recession,’ I said.
‘Yeah, well.’ Robbie flicked his hair out of his eyes. ‘You know the Keynesian theory of fiscal stimulus, right?’
‘Course I don’t. How do you know that stuff anyway?’
‘Did a GCSE in economics, didn’t I? I’m not just a pretty face.’
‘Okay, so hit me with it.’
‘Basically, I’m spending my way out of the sex recession. The way I see it, the more I shag, the more other people are shagging too. So in theory there should be more to go round. Supply and demand, right?’
‘Maybe. But none of it’s coming my way, that’s for sure.’
Robbie widened his huge green eyes, which were framed with lashes so long and dark, Bambi would have killed for them. ‘You poor woman. Why ever not?’
I sighed. The truth – which I certainly wasn’t going to share with Robbie, who was not only my colleague but, in theory at least, my junior – was that I’d had sex precisely twice in the past year, both times with Sean, my ex. And the last time had been well over eight months before. If anyone was in the grip of a sex recession, it