I’d messaged her a couple more times, but she hadn’t replied. In this case, I strongly suspected, no news was bad news.
So I was relieved when I turned up at the gym on Wednesday and she was there, in the plank position on the mat, her legs trembling with the effort of holding her body still.
‘Hey,’ I said, squatting down next to her. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Zoë!’ She flopped down onto the mat, then rolled over on her back. To my surprise, her face was glowing with happiness that definitely wasn’t the result of a killer workout. ‘Look! Look over there!’
She gestured towards the rack of wire cages that were the closest the Dark Arch had to lockers. I could see her familiar purple nylon backpack squeezed into one of them, and on the floor in front of it was an enormous bouquet of red roses, far too big to have fitted in the locker.
‘From Fabian?’
She nodded. ‘They were here when I arrived. He doesn’t know my home or work address so he sent them to Mike’s. How adorable is that? And there was a note with them that just said, “Sorry. Will you consider giving me another chance?” So of course I messaged him right away.’
Of course you did, I thought. ‘And what did he say?’
‘He said he was really, really sorry about Saturday night. He said there was some cock-up with the guest list and he’d asked for our names to be added but they must’ve slipped through the cracks somehow, and he was going to sack that snooty blonde woman. He said he tried to text me that evening to ask where we were, but his phone was out of battery. And then he said he was really, really sorry some more, and he’s going to come round to mine on Friday night and I’m going to make dinner for him. So it’s okay!’
Fabian’s story had as many holes in it as a colander, and it was him who should have been making dinner for Dani, by my reckoning, but there was no point saying that to her.
‘You’re going to have to help me, Zoë. What the hell do I cook for him? I want to impress him but I’m totally crap with food; my signature dish is scrambled eggs. What do I do?’
Chicken a la salmonella, I thought. Day-old rice insufficiently heated through. Jerusalem artichoke soup that’ll blow him right out of your front door with the force of his own farts.
‘Steak,’ I said. ‘Man like that, a fabulous steak will impress him more than anything. I’ll get the organic place we use for beef to add a couple to our order, if you like? And I’ll lend you a meat thermometer so you can get it just right.’
‘Do you mean bloody? I hate bloody meat – it freaks me right out.’
‘Me too. But it won’t freak him out, so you’ll have to learn to like it, fast.’
‘Okay, fine. So steak. And what else?’
‘Bacon.’
Dani boggled at me. ‘Seriously?’
‘Not really. But I bet he’d be made up if you did serve bacon on the side. Or eggs. I’ve been a chef for a long time and I know my market. But I’ll send you some easy recipes for salads and stuff.’
‘You’re a star. So what happened to you on Saturday, anyway? One minute you were there and the next I looked around and you’d vanished.’
I pulled up my Lycra leggings to show her the impressive scabs that had formed on both my knees. ‘I fell over, like a plonker. I’m crap at walking in heels.’
‘Oh no! You poor thing! Ouch, that looks really painful. And I wasn’t even there to help.’
‘It’s okay. Someone else helped me.’
Dani’s perfectly microbladed eyebrows rose enquiringly, and I spilled out the whole story of how Jude had stopped and looked after me, and how we’d gone back to my flat.
‘Oh my God, that’s so cool! So romantic! And so did you…?’
‘Not that night. He fell asleep. But the next morning.’
‘And was it amazing?’
I paused. Part of me wanted to big it up, give Dani the romance she was craving, and myself the reassurance that I longed for just as much. But I couldn’t do that – I felt bad enough that I hadn’t told her exactly what I thought about Fabian, even though I had tried to warn her and she wouldn’t have listened anyway. At least when it came to my own love life I could be straight with her.