Free A Passionate Love Affair with a Total Stranger by Lucy Robinson

you feel at home. I’m looking forward to it. Jo X
    ‘Bang on,’ Sam said, reading over my shoulder. ‘Cheeky. Doesn’t take herself too seriously … Registers her interest but makes him wait for a date. Chas, my friend, you’re the bomb.’
    He went off to plate up tonight’s atrocity and I looked in the mirror to see what a bomb was meant to look like. A smart and reasonably well-groomed girl looked back at me, her face framed by a neat brown bob, with ultra-straight fringe. She was tall, athletic and she could see (today, but by no means always) that she was reasonably attractive.
    ‘You’re doing your weird mirror face!’ Sam sniggered from the cooker.
    I winced, knowing he was right. My mirror face was designed to make me look clever and interesting but it actually made me look frightening and constipated. I knew this because I’d tried it out in photos, repeatedly, without success. ‘Um, how’s Yvonne?’ I asked, keen to
deflect attention from myself. ‘I’ve not seen her in, what, three days?’
    ‘Here you go.’ Sam slopped down a plate of multicoloured lumps in front of me. I got stuck straight in to avoid causing offence. ‘Yvonne is great,’ he said, breaking into a cheesy grin. ‘And the reason you’ve not seen her is that she’s just started a part-time degree.’
    ‘Oh, really? Good on her! What in?’
    ‘Communications, actually. Your gig is Yvonne’s dream job.’
    ‘
Really?
’
    ‘Yes, Chas, really,’ Sam said, clearly offended. ‘She might be a bit silly but she’s fucking clever.’
    There was an awkward silence.
    ‘Sam, I’m sorry. That sounded awful.’ I put my fork down. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. I’m quite sure Yvonne’ll make a great comms person. I suppose I’m just a bit protective of my job just now. The situation with Margot … Eurgh.’
    ‘Margot’s the slapper who’s doing it at the moment?’ Sam asked, squirting ketchup all over his meal.
    ‘I don’t think she’s an actual slapper – she just wears very short skirts and high heels.’
    ‘Slapper,’ Sam confirmed. ‘Trust me, Chas, I’ve met a few in my time.’
    But I was out of smiles already, back in the Margot-related anxiety that I’d been battling for weeks. The experience of having to hand over every single detail of my precious job to her had been even more humiliating than I’d imagined and – worse still – she seemed to be getting on absolutely fine without me. ‘Please just call me
any time of day,’ I’d said to her, back in June, when she’d breezed into the hospital for a gloaty briefing. ‘There’s no need to suffer in silence.’ After all, I’d basically handed her the responsibility of getting the government and entire medical industry onside with our new drug. A huge job. A monumental job.
My
job. My chance to show the company what I could do.
    ‘Sure,’ she’d said briskly. ‘Remember, though, I’m used to this. I ran the comms for a £3.5 billion brand launch in my last company.’ And she’d walked out of the cubicle with the job I’d spent my entire career working for, positively radiating joy at my multiple fractures.
    ‘So, Chas. What’re the latest stats?’ Sam broke off from mashing ketchup into his potato to nod at my computer.
    I was relieved that he hadn’t taken offence about Yvonne. ‘The stats, Samuel Bowes, are good! I’ve got sixty-eight people signed up and sixteen active cases. Sixteen! Sixteen people glued to their screens waiting for messages from me
right now
! Can you imagine how exciting that feels?’
    Sam grinned. ‘Ace … Any fitties in there?’
    ‘Bowes! Butt out!’
    He shrugged. A leopard never lost its spots. I had another mouthful of eggy massacre (which was surprisingly good), then put my fork down again. ‘Look, Sam,’ I said. ‘Without this project I would have gone mad. Proper raving loony. Thank you so much for all of your help and encouragement.’
    ‘It’s in my interests to keep you busy, Chas. You