are at least two men at the bar who look likely to have chloroform-soaked hankies in their pockets. The Grand Old Duke of York is the only pub within walking distance of work that can be guaranteed to have nobody from Binary Star in it, which is why we’ve braved the bad beer and creepy loners. Tonight, anything’s better than bumping into Maya, Raffi or Laurie at the French House.
‘My life’s been too safe for too long,’ says Tamsin decisively. ‘I should take more risks.’ That’s it: no way am I letting her get the tube home. I’ll have to wait until she passes out to phone Joe. Another fifteen minutes, half an hour maximum. ‘There are no surprises – you know what I mean? Up at seven, in the shower, two Weetabix and a fruit smoothie for breakfast, walk to the tube station, in work by half past eight, running round all day after Laurie, wearing myself out trying to . . .
decipher
him, home by eight, eat dinner with Joe, snuggled up on the sofa by half nine to watch an episode of whatever DVD box set we’re on, bed at eleven. Where’s the spark? Where’s the dyna . . . dianne. . . .?’
‘Dynamism?’ I suggest.
‘Whereas now I’ve got a real challenge: no job!’ She tries to sound upbeat about it. ‘No income! I’ll have to find a way of keeping a roof over our heads.’
‘Can Joe cover the mortgage?’ I ask, feeling terrible for her. ‘Temporarily, until you find something else?’
‘No, but we could rent out Joe’s study to someone chilled-out who wouldn’t mind having to walk through our bedroom every time he needed a wee in the middle of the night,’ says Tamsin brightly. ‘He might become our friend. When was the last time I made a new friend?’
‘When you met me.’ I try to prise the gin and tonic from her grasp. ‘Give me that. I’ll go and get you an orange juice.’
Her hands tighten around her glass. ‘You’re a control freak too,’ she says accusingly. ‘We both are. We need to learn to go with the flow.’
‘I’m worried the flow might be of vomit. Why don’t I ring Joe and he can—’
‘
Nooo
.’ Tamsin pats my hand. ‘I’m
fine
. I whole-heartedly embrace this opportunity for change. Maybe I’ll start wearing blue or red instead of black and white all the time. Hey – know what I’m gonna do tomorrow?’
‘Die of alcohol poisoning?’
‘Go to an exhibition. There must be something good on at the National Portrait Gallery, or the Hayward. And while I’m doing that, you know what you’re gonna do?’ She burps loudly. ‘You’re going to be in Maya’s office saying, “Yes,please, I’ll take that extremely well-paid job.” If you feel guilty about earning too much money, you can give some to me. Just a little bit. Or maybe half.’
‘Hey – did you just suggest something that makes sense?’
‘I believe I did.’ Tamsin giggles. ‘Socialism in miniature. There’d only be two of us involved, but the principle’s the same: everything you have is mine, and everything I have is yours, except I haven’t got anything.’
‘You need an income. I’ve just been offered more than three times what I’m on now . . . No, that’d be mad. Wouldn’t it?’ I haven’t drunk as much as she has, but I’ve had a fair bit.
‘What’s the prollem?’ she slurs, wide-eyed. ‘No one needs to find out apart from you and me. Laurie’s right: if you blow this chance, everyone’ll think you’re a dick. And if you hoard your wealth like a Scroogey miser . . .’
‘So this is the great challenge that was missing from your life? Forcing me to take a job I don’t want so that you can nick half my salary?’ I’m not even sure she means what she’s saying. I wait for her to tell me she’s only kidding.
‘You wouldn’t have to fund me for ever,’ she says instead. ‘Just until I sort myself out with a new career. I’d quite like to work for the UN, as an interpreter.’
I sigh. ‘Do you speak anything, apart from English and
‘My life’s been too safe for too long,’ says Tamsin decisively. ‘I should take more risks.’ That’s it: no way am I letting her get the tube home. I’ll have to wait until she passes out to phone Joe. Another fifteen minutes, half an hour maximum. ‘There are no surprises – you know what I mean? Up at seven, in the shower, two Weetabix and a fruit smoothie for breakfast, walk to the tube station, in work by half past eight, running round all day after Laurie, wearing myself out trying to . . .
decipher
him, home by eight, eat dinner with Joe, snuggled up on the sofa by half nine to watch an episode of whatever DVD box set we’re on, bed at eleven. Where’s the spark? Where’s the dyna . . . dianne. . . .?’
‘Dynamism?’ I suggest.
‘Whereas now I’ve got a real challenge: no job!’ She tries to sound upbeat about it. ‘No income! I’ll have to find a way of keeping a roof over our heads.’
‘Can Joe cover the mortgage?’ I ask, feeling terrible for her. ‘Temporarily, until you find something else?’
‘No, but we could rent out Joe’s study to someone chilled-out who wouldn’t mind having to walk through our bedroom every time he needed a wee in the middle of the night,’ says Tamsin brightly. ‘He might become our friend. When was the last time I made a new friend?’
‘When you met me.’ I try to prise the gin and tonic from her grasp. ‘Give me that. I’ll go and get you an orange juice.’
Her hands tighten around her glass. ‘You’re a control freak too,’ she says accusingly. ‘We both are. We need to learn to go with the flow.’
‘I’m worried the flow might be of vomit. Why don’t I ring Joe and he can—’
‘
Nooo
.’ Tamsin pats my hand. ‘I’m
fine
. I whole-heartedly embrace this opportunity for change. Maybe I’ll start wearing blue or red instead of black and white all the time. Hey – know what I’m gonna do tomorrow?’
‘Die of alcohol poisoning?’
‘Go to an exhibition. There must be something good on at the National Portrait Gallery, or the Hayward. And while I’m doing that, you know what you’re gonna do?’ She burps loudly. ‘You’re going to be in Maya’s office saying, “Yes,please, I’ll take that extremely well-paid job.” If you feel guilty about earning too much money, you can give some to me. Just a little bit. Or maybe half.’
‘Hey – did you just suggest something that makes sense?’
‘I believe I did.’ Tamsin giggles. ‘Socialism in miniature. There’d only be two of us involved, but the principle’s the same: everything you have is mine, and everything I have is yours, except I haven’t got anything.’
‘You need an income. I’ve just been offered more than three times what I’m on now . . . No, that’d be mad. Wouldn’t it?’ I haven’t drunk as much as she has, but I’ve had a fair bit.
‘What’s the prollem?’ she slurs, wide-eyed. ‘No one needs to find out apart from you and me. Laurie’s right: if you blow this chance, everyone’ll think you’re a dick. And if you hoard your wealth like a Scroogey miser . . .’
‘So this is the great challenge that was missing from your life? Forcing me to take a job I don’t want so that you can nick half my salary?’ I’m not even sure she means what she’s saying. I wait for her to tell me she’s only kidding.
‘You wouldn’t have to fund me for ever,’ she says instead. ‘Just until I sort myself out with a new career. I’d quite like to work for the UN, as an interpreter.’
I sigh. ‘Do you speak anything, apart from English and
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