‘What if they’ve two heads or something?’ God knows why I take relationship advice from them. “We’re all beautiful on the inside”.’ She mimed sticking two fingers down her throat, but then she’s off men too, separated like me. ‘We don’t post photos until we’ve got to know the person. ‘Like set up a profile?’ I pulled a face as Jules read aloud from the home page of Inside, Out. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.’ You don’t have to take it seriously.’ She flashed a grin. ‘Separated,’ Chrissy said, and she made it sound so final, although neither Matt nor I had mentioned divorce. My friends had rallied round, as good ones do, and a few weeks ago we sat drinking wine as they persuaded me to create a profile on a dating app. That was before he ripped my dreams away with one sharp yank, leaving me hollow and icy, icy cold. My imagined future wrapped itself around me like a blanket, cosy and warm. It was only last year Matt and I decided to try for a baby. I’m not ready, and besides, I’m still clutching onto a kernel of hope that my marriage isn’t over. I should never have let Chrissy and Jules persuade me to go on a date. I’ve a horrible sense of being watched, and not in the loving way Matt used to, when I’d open my eyes and see him propped on one elbow, gazing at me as though I was the only girl in the world. A smell I can’t quite identify and, at first, I wonder if there’s someone in bed with me. My head is pounding, thoughts cloudy, and the whole room feels as though it’s spinning. It’s not the stab of disappointment I get every morning when I realise I’m not in bed with Matt, that I’m no longer living, or welcome, in my own home. I know that even before I am aware of the throbbing at my temples. I know that as soon as I wake from a thick, muddy sleep.

They dined on mince, and slices of quince,Īnd hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, So they took it away, and were married next day ‘Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling O let us be married! too long we have tarried: Pussy said to the Owl, ‘You elegant fowl! They took some honey, and plenty of money, ‘It doesn’t matter how old we get, how big we grow, we all need a mum, don’t we?’ An unputdownable psychological thriller with a breathtaking twist

The date by louise jensen