Who’s That Girl?: A laugh-out-loud sparky romcom!

They became messaging mates. Most mornings, Jack found some witticism to kick things off. He was catnip to someone with Edie’s quick wit, and he seemed entranced by her. He had an easy self-confidence, and ran on dryly humorous remarks and giant Americanos.

In the boredom of office life, the ping of a new message from Jack on her screen became inextricably associated with pleasure and reward. Edie was like a lab rat in a scientific experiment, pressing a lever that gave her a nut. To follow the analogy, sooner or later it’d give her an electric shock, and she’d prove the mechanics of addiction by keeping on pressing for another nut.

It was all a bit of fun.

Even when the conversation naturally strayed into slightly more serious, personal topics. Amid the anecdotes, the casual intimacy and larks, she found herself telling him things she hadn’t told anyone in London.

Edie found her spirits dip at home time on a Friday – a funny reversal – realising there’d be no more ‘special chemistry’ chatter until Monday.

Eventually, there were text-jokes from Jack at the weekend – saw this, thought of you – and favouriting of her tweets, and explosively she’d even occasionally get the notification he’d Liked an old photo of hers, buried in the archives on Facebook. Truly, the footprint on the windowsill of social media courting.

Jack would sometimes say in front of Charlotte, during the Friday night drinks, that he’d shamelessly distracted Edie at work. Charlotte tutted and chided Jack and apologised to Edie – and then Edie definitely felt a whisper of guilt.

But, why? For conversation that Jack was openly acknowledging in front of his girlfriend that he instigated? If it was anything untoward, it’d be secret, right?

There was enough plausible deniability to park a bus.

7 (#ulink_3e6cddb7-c5a7-5ef2-9f0c-bfe2ed3e5e0a)

What Charlotte didn’t know, and Edie didn’t admit to herself, was that the devil was in the detail.

It was unlikely Charlotte would be blasé if she knew Jack got joke-or-is-it? jealous whenever Edie had been out on a date. ‘Oh my word, just imagining the stress of you as a girlfriend though …’ Jack would say. ‘Getting you to tone down the potty mouth when you meet the parents. You bringing them a gift of black pudding sausage.’

They both imagined this intangible ideal and happy-sighed and laughed, Edie pretending to be outraged by his ongoing teasing about her supposed northernness, when in fact it was thrilling he was contemplating her as his other half. There was such a tenderness to it.

Jack played the role of a best friend, confidante and, well, sort-of boyfriend. And she wanted him to.

Eventually, Edie realised she’d crossed an invisible line, without ever intending to. This mistake wasn’t one big decision, it was a series of smaller, unwitting choices.

She was never going to act as long as he was with Charlotte, though, so what did it matter? A crush added a sparkle to your day, it was a calorie-free, non-carcinogenic, cost-free joy.

Only, she found out it did have a cost, some four months after Jack first G-chatted her.

Jack hadn’t wanted a mortgage, and definitely not in commutersville. One lunch time, Charlotte popped a bottle of Moët and handed round fizzing plastic cups. ‘We’ve completed on our house!’

What? Jack never said? And he and Edie shared, well, pretty much everything, she thought.

It felt like a betrayal. She’d had, as her friend Hannah liked to say, her world view bitch-slapped by reality.

She messaged, as soon as Jack was back in his seat: ‘Didn’t see this coming?’

Ack, I know right! She wore me down & got her way in the end. Hold me and tell me it’s going to be OK, E.T. x

That was it? That was all she was going to get?

Edie’s strength of feeling over this development knocked her for six. She could have it out with Jack, push him on why he’d not mentioned it, but then, it wasn’t her business. It was prying into his life with Charlotte and implying she was owed personal information. It was distinctly not cool. She’d argue with herself: Well, you go on dates? Can he not buy property with girlfriends?

But it forced Edie to take a hard look at how her hopes had been building, quietly and unobtrusively, even to her.

She resolved to avoid banter, and for a while, he kept his distance too. But after a short time had passed, and he reappeared on G-chat as sparky as ever, it was difficult to change gears, without it being a giveaway. She had to play it off as business as usual, or the jig was up.

Something that began so lightly was now the cause of much fretting for Edie. She spent evenings scrolling through Jack’s emails and texts, looking for proof of his reciprocal feelings for her. ‘X’ marks the spot.

Jack was also once again saying that Charlotte wanted things he didn’t: weddings, babies. Wood-burning stoves and 4x4s.

Edie now avoided talking about all this, and yet equally avoided what it told her about him. Refusing to look at the great big health and safety warning sign, saying: DO NOT PROCEED BEYOND THIS POINT. HAZARDOUS MATERIALS. MANAGEMENT ACCEPT NO LIABILITY.

It dawned on Edie that he didn’t tell Charlotte about their chatting because he thought it was innocent. He told Charlotte because he was an accomplished liar, and those liars hid in plain sight.

There was only one person to take this to. Her best mate, Hannah, who inconsiderately lived in Edinburgh.

Edie bucketed it all out by last orders in a nice old man’s type boozer on the Royal Mile on a bank holiday trip to the far north.

‘You know,’ Edie said, trying desperately to wear it lightly, ‘I might be better with it if I understood him and Charlotte. They’re so different.’

Hannah shook her head, dismissively.

‘Selfish jokers always like a woman who runs the show. They have a basic respect for finances and efficiency. If not fidelity.’

This had the CLANG of ugly truth.

‘Take it as a sign you don’t know him as well as you think you do, not that she’s wrong for him,’ Hannah said, adjusting her poker-straight brown hair in its top knot.

This sort of common sense wasn’t what Edie wanted to hear. She wanted to be told Jack was fatally in love with her and hadn’t found the courage to tell her.

‘This wasn’t your idea, you know,’ Hannah said, picking at peanuts in the ripped-open packet between them. ‘You didn’t want to end up here. He’s been messing with you and he doesn’t care if you get hurt, as long as he gets his entertainment. The butterflies and rollercoasters that you don’t get when you’re settled. And you’re friendly and obliging; some blokes take advantage of that openness.’

Edie knew the word she wasn’t using that also applied. Needy. He exploited a neediness she’d not admitted to herself she had. Needy Edie.

Hannah had been with lovely dependable Pete since university, though, Edie thought. Perhaps she doesn’t understand what a complicated jungle it is out here.

‘Does he even know I’ve been hurt by it, though? Maybe he doesn’t know I care,’ Edie said.

Hannah shook her head.

‘He knows. If he didn’t know, why keep things that didn’t help, from you? Why not say, by the way what’s your views on this place on RightMove we’re seeing on Saturday?’

Edie nodded, morose. ‘Don’t laugh at me. But could he be confused about his feelings?’

‘He’s not so confused he can’t co-sign mortgage papers. Bottom line. If he wanted to be with you, he’d be with you. However infatuated he is, he doesn’t want to be with you enough to do anything about it.’

Hannah had special dispensation to be brutal, because she was a surgeon (kidneys) and when she’d had a bad day, someone had died. ‘I lost someone on the table,’ was a phrase that kicked Edie’s complaints into touch.

Edie couldn’t find any way out of this last logical point. Her lip went wobbly.

‘Fuck, Hannah, he’s broken me. I feel as if there’s no one else in the world who will ever be right for me, if I can’t have him. And I’m thirty-five. I’m probably right.’

Hannah put her hand on her shoulder.