Be More Lucy

Lucy turned over on Em's sofa bed. There must be some position where there wasn't a spring or a crossbar sticking into her back. She moved a little to the left. Slightly better. It hadn't felt this uncomfortable when she'd slept on it last night, but she'd had so much to drink yesterday, she'd gone out like a light as soon as her head hit the pillow.

She looked at her phone. 11.35 pm. It was a bit early to be in bed alone on a Saturday night.

Lucy considered knocking on Em's bedroom door to ask if she'd got a spare blanket to put on top of the mattress to make it feel less lumpy. But Em was probably asleep already. As soon as they got back from the hospital half an hour ago, she said she had a headache and hurried off to bed. Lucy suspected it was an excuse to avoid talking about what had happened with Jack earlier.

It was so frustrating watching those two screw things up. Jack was the perfect man for Em. He was charming, well-educated, he had a good job as a history professor, he always smelt lovely, he had no obvious bad habits, he was an excellent cook and he was good-looking. Too clean cut for Lucy, but totally Em's type. And Em was ideal for him - funny, caring, equally good-looking and, with nearly 30 years of dealing with that barking mad, controlling mother of hers, probably the only woman who understood the hell Jack was going through trying to divorce his narcissistic wife, Isabella.

Lucy wasn't sure what had gone wrong this time. Jack and Em had been flirting with one another in the restaurant, and the banter continued in A&E while they were all waiting for Lucy to have a fishbone removed from her throat. But when Lucy had rejoined them after the doctor had done her stuff, there was an atmosphere between them that you could cut with a knife. The drive back to Dashford had been tense, to say the least. Mark hadn't got a clue what had gone wrong either, judging by the whispered conversation Lucy had with him in the back of the car.

Gorgeous Mark. Deep brown eyes with a roguish twinkle. A nice line in risque jokes. Lush, curly, medium brown hair - just the type of locks she'd enjoy running her fingers through. He had a healthy tan, too, thanks to living in Spain, she guessed. She'd like to find out where those tan lines ended.

Mark was the complete opposite of Lucy's boyfriend, Lars. Don't think about Lars! He's an ex-boyfriend now, or he will be when you send him the "You're dumped" text. Yesterday's Instagram post of Lars enjoying himself with a scantily clad woman during his friend's stag party drifted back into her mind. He was probably still fondling women in Mallorca this evening. Well, Lars could do what the hell he liked now. There was no way Lucy was letting him back into her bed. To think she had believed he was serious about their relationship after he invited her to meet his parents in Canada.

Lucy needed to find a new man to entertain her, and Mark would fit the bill nicely. Some people might think it was indecently hasty, but why wait around for him to be snapped up by someone else?

She was pretty sure Mark wanted to find out where her, albeit much paler, tan ended, too.

He'd been very attentive over dinner and seemed genuinely concerned when she'd started choking in the restaurant. He'd volunteered to come with her to see the doctor in A&E, and he'd even held her hand while she had that big metal instrument shoved down her throat. He said how good she'd been. Perhaps he was impressed by her lack of gag reflex. Lucy felt a warm glow, thinking about the implications of that.

Then there had been that spark of attraction when their fingers touched. It had been a long, long time since she'd felt that sensation. Not since Dylan. Don't think about Dylan, either! What was wrong with her inner voice, conjuring up unreliable exes one after the other? Think about the future, not the old disasters!

And now Mark was on the other side of the courtyard in the big Georgian manor house that had been his childhood home. He might still be awake.

Lucy got off the sofa bed and looked out of Em's living room window. The house was in darkness, except for one first-floor window. That could be Mark's room. Or it could be his mother, Nancy's. She could try texting him.

Lucy found Mark's number on her phone and tapped out a message:

Three dots appeared almost immediately. Great - he wasn't asleep.

Lucy knew about the text. Em hadn't been spying on Jack - reading it had been an accident. She ought to try to make things right.

Another quick reply:

Jack and Em really were perfect for each other. They even sulked in the same way. Well, she'd done her duty as Em's best friend. Time to find out whether Mark was in the mood for some company.

Typical Nancy! She was always on the go. If Mark were anything like her when he was 74, he'd still be fun to be around. But she ought to confirm how fun he was now before planning the rest of her life with him. Another text from Mark.

A kiss this time. Lucy replied

She added a kiss as well. He immediately started typing again.

Intriguing. She texted back:

The three dots appeared and disappeared several times. Either his response was long, or he was editing it a lot.

No kiss this time, but a wink emoji instead.

Promising. Very promising. Lucy sprayed herself with perfume, pulled on her jeans and a jumper, laced up her trainers and quietly let herself out of Em's flat.