Confessions of a Reluctant Recessionista

just such bloody bad timing. Less than twenty-four hours ago I was in this state of total exhilaration, I was so excited about my new job – no, my new career ! I have a career now – can you believe it? Twenty-four hours ago I had it sorted: great job, great new house, great boyfriend. And now I have to make a choice. Do I give up this career opportunity– my first career opportunity ever, let’s not forget – for a man I’m falling in love with, even if I know he’s probably not “the one”, whatever the hell that means?’
    Jude looked at me glumly, for once lost for words.
    ‘I suppose we could do the long-distance thing …’ I went on.
    ‘Cass, take it from a woman who’s been there, the long-distance thing is not fun. In fact, it’s painful and lonely and depressing. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought that I should just call it a day … And I know Matt’s “the one”. But there were times when I could see everyone else going out and having fun and meeting new people and I was just waiting, my whole life passing me by …’
    ‘Jude,’ I said, putting my arm around her. ‘God. You never said.’
    ‘No,’ she shrugged with a little smile. But I should have known anyway, I thought. ‘Anyway, if you do think that it’s for keeps with Jake, then I wouldn’t even try the long-distance thing. It won’t work and one of you will just end up hurting the other one. And I like you both very much. I don’t want to have to cut one of you out of my life just yet …’
    Of course, there was more to think about than just me and Jake. Even if I did want to dash off to Africa to have adventures, even if I was prepared to abandon my great new career for my great new man, I wasn’t prepared to abandon my best friend. My single, pregnant best friend who was counting on me. More than that, I didn’t want to leave her – I couldn’t bearthe idea of not being there when she had the baby. The truth was that I’d loved Jake for about five minutes, but I’d loved Ali for years.
    Not that I said any of this to him, of course. In fact, I just put the whole issue to the back of my mind and carried on as though nothing were wrong. Faced with the choice of making a decision about my future with Jake and complete denial, I opted for the river in Egypt.
    I had plenty of other things to occupy my mind in any case. Intermediate French and beginner’s Spanish, for starters, with classes at the Wine Academy every Thursday evening, and antenatal classes with Ali every Friday evening, just for good measure. Plus there was the matter of Jude’s impending departure and my imminent move to West London. My relationship with Jake had slipped down my list of priorities a little.
    A fact which, it appears, had not escaped his attention. On Jude and Matt’s final evening in London, we had dinner together in the flat – Matt, Jude, Jake and I sitting on boxes around the coffee table eating takeaway, with Ali sitting on the sofa (we weren’t sure there was a box that would bear her weight). For once, the tension in the room was not between Ali and Jude, who were actually being quite civil to each other. The problems began when Ali started talking about moving dates.
    ‘I can exchange on the fourteenth of April so you could move in any time after that,’ she said, helping herself to another enormous serving of chiang mai duck curry.
    ‘I’ll move in the very next day,’ I said, clinking glasses with her. ‘I have got to be out of here by the end of the month, so that’s absolutely perfect. God, I can’t wait, Al. It’s going to be so much fun living together.’ Jude gave me a faux-hurt look. ‘Almost as much fun as it has been living with you,’ I said quickly, and clinked glasses with her, too. Jake got up abruptly from the table and opened another can of cider. It was his fourth so far that evening.
    ‘You’ve not got plans for the fifteenth, Cassie?’ he asked me.
    ‘Not that I can think of …’ I replied.
    ‘Right.’
    ‘Why, were we supposed to be doing something?’
    ‘Nothing special,’ he muttered, turning away from me to rifle through my admittedly rather pitiful CD collection. ‘Can I change this music?’ he asked, turning it off before anyone replied. ‘It’s fucking awful.’
    I looked questioningly at Jude, who just shrugged.
    Things got better as the evening wore on, enlivened by endless anecdotes from Jude about my foibles as a flatmate and a good-natured round-up of