The Men in her Life

example. ‘I’m not going to spend the rest of my life knocking back Australian chardonnay and moaning about men. I hate chardonnay as a matter of fact.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘That horrible resin taste...’
    ‘I meant men.’
    ‘I’m sick of being negative. I don’t need a man to make me happy. If one comes along, fine. If not, fine too.’
    ‘Have you ever considered dating agencies?’ Colette asked in a confidential tone of voice.
    ‘God no, have you?’
    ‘You say it like it’s taboo. Apparently there are half a million people in the country who belong to them.’
    ‘No. Half a million? Have you then?’
    ‘In a way... I wondered if we should do it together...’
    ‘No way.’ Holly’s response was categorical.
    ‘You just said you were open to anything.’
    ‘I didn’t... I said... well, I can’t remember what I said quite, but I didn’t mean...’
    ‘But it’d be fun. We might meet someone...’
    ‘We might meet some bloody weirdo...’
    ‘Says the woman who’s been fucking a bloke called Piers...’
    ‘Oh piss off...’
    ‘ “Life is suddenly full of possibilities...” ’ Colette quoted her.
    ‘Oh shut up! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going for a swim. I’m going to get fit and follow a regular skincare routine.’
    ‘All in one day?’
    ‘I think you’ll find when you get off your arse, out of my flat and onto the streets, that your attitude is completely out of date. Cynicism is very April 97 and optimism is very May. You heard it here first.’ Holly slung her swimming bag over her shoulder and marched down the stairs.

    The one disadvantage of living where she did was temptation. It was quicker to pop out for a cappuccino than wait for a kettle to boil, spoon in the Gold Blend and then find that she’d got no fresh milk in the fridge. Why waste time cooking when she could go out to dinner, eat better food and leave the washing-up? These were expenses that Holly found easy enough to justify to herself, and even though she did it every day, the sheer glamour of eating in restaurants had never lost its thrill for her.
    Buying a new white shirt because she had forgotten all the ones that lurked in the pile of ironing waiting to be done was a bit more difficult to justify, and abandoning a swim because she happened to walk past a shop window full of clothes the colour of Love Hearts was really pushing it. But she hadn’t bought anything for summer yet. It hadn’t been the weather for it. She fancied a pair of lilac jeans. New Labour, new wardrobe. It wasn’t as if it was New Year, Holly told herself, wandering into the shop. She hadn’t made a resolution to swim every day, so she wasn’t exactly breaking it. By the time Holly got to the changing-room she had turned her initial whim to buy a few clothes into an absolute necessity.
    People sometimes referred to Holly’s body as rangy, which she liked because it sounded sexy, or lanky, which didn’t. She was tall and slim but appeared to have a lot of angles. Even though she bought clothes almost every day, she nearly always ended up wearing jeans which suited her best.
    ‘So you’re taking the grape and the papaya,’ the shop assistant’s eyes widened as Holly put another pair on the pile.
    ‘Not the kiwi?’ she asked.
    ‘Kiwi? It’s not a bit like kiwi, more pistachio icecream,’ Holly remarked, knowing exactly what the assistant would say next.
    ‘... goes beautifully with your colouring...’
    They could never resist telling a redhead to wear green. Holly had been dressed in green all her childhood. The colour made her feel sick in the same way that blackcurrant cheesecake had ever since the afternoon she had defrosted and eaten a whole one.
    ‘I’m buying the rest of the bloody fruit bowl,’ Holly said, sharply.
    So that was casual sorted out, she thought, perched on a stool in a coffee-shop. Now all she needed for summer was work clothes and something for the evening. And shoes. She drank her coffee quickly, checking in the mirrored wall in front of her to see she hadn’t left powdered chocolate in the corner of her mouth. There was something funny about the light, she thought, leaning closer to her reflection. It made her look as if she had very fine lines under her eyes. Holly sat up straight on her tall stool and smiled insincerely at herself in the mirror a couple of times. The lines were where her face scrunched up when she smiled. Laughter lines. The trouble was that they didn’t entirely