down, skimming the edges of the bookcase where all her books are neatly ordered by colour. The whole house looks like something from an interiors magazine. I make a mental note to snap a photo of the little grouping of cacti and old Observer’s Books spotter’s guides she has sitting on a side table for Instagram. Nanna Beth would love that.
‘Hi, you two,’ Gen says as we enter. Gen has brought along an actor friend called Malcolm. He’s tall, willowy, and despite the late-summer sun, wearing a trilby and a floaty long raincoat. He has a drooping, strangely clown-like face and reminds me of a bloodhound.
Gen has a habit – I think it’s an acting thing – of taking on the mannerisms and personality of the person she’s seeing. So tonight she’s dressed in similarly floppy clothes, with two long scarves hanging around her neck. She’s sitting on the sofa beside Malcolm, draping her legs over his, and fiddling with one of his long, Byronic curls. He doesn’t seem to say much.
‘Did you get that report done, Soph?’ James asks as he takes my coat and hangs it up. It’s all very comfortable, in a strange sort of way. Because James knows Sophie from work, we don’t have the usual ‘introducing a new boyfriend to your mates and hoping he’ll get on with them’ thing. Sophie approves of James completely, and of course Rich – silent and easy-going, currently doing something with the starter in the kitchen – is happy to go along with whatever Sophie thinks.
‘Yeah. I had to stay behind for three hours, but it’s been put to bed.’
‘How’s work, Jess? Are you still enjoying it?’ Gen stretches, raising her arms up in the air and balling her fists.
I nod, and take a seat next to James on a sofa. It’s been a steep learning curve for the last nine months and I’m exhausted. I need a proper holiday. James made some vague noises about going away somewhere next year, and the idea of us having a next year together – well, it felt quite nice.
‘Drink?’ Sophie leans down between mine and James’s shoulders, beaming contentedly. She loves playing hostess.
‘I’d love a beer, please,’ says James.
‘Can I have one too?’
‘Coming up.’
Malcolm gives a huge yawn, echoing Gen’s a moment ago, stretching his arms up in the air. His huge clown-like face elongates and his eyes close. I look at James sideways. I get the feeling that perhaps this is all a little bit too tame and suburban for Malcolm. I sit back in the chair and take the beer Sophie hands me, looking around. It’s weird to think that nine months ago we were sitting looking at the mountains on our ski trip, talking about how things might change over the next year. And now, here’s Gen with Malcolm and me with James. It’s all very neat and lovely. I shift a little on the sofa and James turns, giving me a look of concern.
‘You all right, hon?’
I freeze slightly. He’s never used that term with me before and I’d be quite happy if he never did so again. I am not a ‘hon’.
Gen notices and snorts with laughter. ‘You’re going to have to break the spell, James, or she’ll be frozen in that position of abject horror all night.’
‘What did I do?’ James looks genuinely anguished. His brow furrows and he runs a hand through his thick blond thatch of hair.
‘I’m just not a very “hon” sort of person.’
‘She’s more of a darling, aren’t you, darling?’ Gen grins.
‘What about poppet?’ Malcolm raises his chin slightly and looks at me thoughtfully. ‘You’re quite posh. You seem a bit of a poppet to me.’
‘Posh? Jess?’ Sophie says.
‘Excuse me,’ I say, ‘I am sitting right here.’
‘Poshly.’ Gen reaches for a crisp.
‘I didn’t say I was posh, Malcolm said I was posh.’
‘James is posh,’ Gen says, decisively. ‘I bet your parents sent you to boarding school and you have an Aga and all that stuff.’
‘My God,’ he says, but he’s laughing. He puts his hands up. ‘Guilty as charged. Yes, my parents have an Aga. No, I didn’t go to boarding school.’
‘And did they call you poppet or hon?’
‘Neither. Always James.’
‘Exactly.’ Gen looks pleased with herself.
‘I’m just not a cute names sort of person, that’s all,’ I say.
With all that out of the way, we have dinner – prawn curry and a million side dishes, all prepared by Rich, who is a brilliant cook – and spend the rest of the