A Hopeless Romantic. Harriet Evans
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‘Oh, I’m so glad.’
‘Me too,’ said Jo. Her voice was quiet. ‘Look, I am really sorry. You poor thing. Are you OK?’
‘Well,’ said Laura, not wanting to sound pathetic. Then she said, ‘Actually, no, not really. But I will be.’
‘Can I – can I pop round?’
Laura looked at her watch. It was only three o’clock. Jo should be at work. ‘Course,’ she said. ‘Where are you?’
There was a knock on the door, three feet away from Laura. She jumped up in the air. ‘Argh!’ she cried.
‘It’s me,’ came Jo’s voice, from down the phone and outside at the same time. ‘Hello.’
Laura opened the door. There was her best friend, standing in the doorway, her tiny frame dwarfed by her enormous backpack. She was holding some chocolates and a bottle of wine. She raised a hand and her eyes met Laura’s and she smiled.
‘Bunked off work,’ she said, rolling her eyes in the direction of the backpack crammed with papers on her back. ‘I – I wanted to see you,’ and she came forward, her arms outstretched, and gave Laura a hug.
‘Poor, poor baby,’ she said soothingly into Laura’s hair, and both of them were crying, not just for Laura’s predicament, but because girls are a bit pathetic like that. ‘Poor baby.’
‘Yes,’ sniffed Laura, wholly in agreement. ‘Thanks,’ she added. ‘You must think I’m a complete idiot.’
‘No I don’t,’ said Jo firmly. ‘Just – no, I don’t. He’s the idiot, isn’t he?’
‘Yeah!’ said Laura. ‘But – well, I have been really stupid. And the worst of it is, you were right,’ she said in a rush. ‘All along. You’re always saying it.’
‘Saying what?’
‘You know,’ said Laura, looking at the floor.
Jo swung her bag onto the ground and said nothing.
‘Well,’ Laura said after a while. ‘Just – it’s not the first time. I should have learnt my lesson by now. I have. Just so you know.’
‘Sure, sure,’ Jo crooned, putting her arm around her friend. ‘Yes, of course you have.’
‘No, I mean it,’ said Laura firmly. ‘You sound like Paddy. I have. Well, you’ll just have to see. I’m a changed person. Anyway. Forget it.’ She eyed the bottle of wine. ‘Screw-top, yum. Come and get a glass.’
‘Great,’ said Jo. ‘So, tell me all about it. It happened on Friday, right?’
‘Right,’ said Laura, retreating into the kitchen. ‘So…’
Laura suffered a setback on Wednesday. She knew she’d been doing so well, but it was hard being good and kind and
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