She smiled again. ‘I can’t answer that for them, my darling, just like I can’t tell you. It’s not that simple. We can’t pour your feelings into a measuring jug and see where they come up to. Only you can work that out.’
‘What if I can’t?’
‘Then that might be your answer.’
‘But… but…’ I floundered. ‘He has all the things I wanted on my list! And my family like him!’
‘Indeed. But perhaps the qualities you wrote on your list weren’t the ones that really mattered?’ she said, squinting at me. ‘Maybe that’s what this process has taught you. And of course your family’s opinion counts, we’re all swayed by our families. But ultimately it’s your feelings that matter.’
I sighed. Falling in love wasn’t this complicated in Disney cartoons. Then I steeled myself for my next question, opening my mouth before I replied, unsure how to phrase it.
‘What does it mean if you’re sleeping with someone but you see the face of someone else?’ I blurted, as my cheeks turned the colour of Gwendolyn’s jumper.
She frowned. ‘Do you mean…’ she dropped her voice to a whisper, ‘in the act?’
I nodded. It had happened again that week. I’d stayed at Rory’s on Wednesday and persuaded him to watch an old Bake Off rerun, but halfway through he’d hauled me on to his lap and we’d had sex on the sofa while Prue Leith talked about custard slices in the background. And as I was on top of him, his head bent to my chest, I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what it would be like if it was Zach’s head there instead of Rory’s. I had to shake my own head to get rid of the idea while ignoring Prue’s voice at the same time. It hadn’t been a relaxing session.
‘But that’s all right, isn’t it?’ I added. ‘That happens in relationships sometimes, doesn’t it? My friend Jaz says she sometimes sees Gordon Ramsay when she’s having sex.’
‘Whose face did you see?’
‘It’s a friend, someone I work with.’ My entire body shrivelled with shame. Saying this out loud made it real, even if I was only admitting it to the overgrown fairy in front of me. But what if someone else could hear? What if Zach had called me and my phone had picked up in my bag so he was overhearing this conversation? I’d have to emigrate to the moon. I leant down and groped in my rucksack to check. My phone screen was black. No accidental phone call.
‘What’s he like, this friend that you work with?’
‘Lovely. But he’s not my type. He’s untidy and leaves mugs and his motorbike stuff all over the shop. He dresses like the lost member of Linkin Park. And doesn’t even have a proper job.’
‘I thought he worked with you?’
‘It’s only temporary.’
‘But why does that matter? Why do any of these things matter?’
‘Because…’ I stopped and looked out of the window. Actually, I wasn’t sure. I’d once read an article about evolution which explained that women were attracted to successful men because, when we were scrabbling around caves, the most successful men would have been the best hunters and provided hunks of woolly mammoth for us to ensure our survival, and the least successful men would have got picked off by a wild beast and left us to go hungry. But I didn’t want to date someone like Hugo just because they had a company Mercedes and a pension. ‘I don’t know,’ I said, looking back to Gwendolyn.
‘I tell you what we need to do,’ she said, one finger aloft in the air.
Here we go.
‘And that’s a little spell for clarity.’
Might have guessed.
‘Lie down on the sofa and close your eyes. I’m going to do a short incantation.’
‘Will this really help me decide?’
‘It will,’ she promised.
I lay down and listened to the sound of drawers opening and closing and a match being struck. Then she placed something cold on my forehead.
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s amethyst. I’ve put it on your third eye for clarity.’
‘My third eye?’
‘It’s a site of mystical powers. Our sixth sense. And take this in your left hand. It’s malachite to stimulate your aura and guard against any negative energies.’
I felt her press a hard, round object into my palm and closed my fingers over it.
‘And this smoky quartz in your other hand to increase your focus.’
With a crystal in each hand, I lay very still so the amethyst didn’t roll off my head,