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‘Think big, Kat,’ says Freddy. ‘Imagine your wildest dreams coming true and they will.’

‘Dreams come true for people like you,’ says Kat. ‘But not for people like me.’

‘Don’t they?’ Freddy asks. ‘You just got engaged. Isn’t that a dream come true?’

‘Yes.’ I say the word quickly, so I don’t have to think about it too much. ‘Of course it is.’

‘No, it isn’t.’ Freddy looks right into my eyes. ‘Ahmet isn’t your fairy-tale happy ending.’

‘So?’

‘So who is?’

I shrug. ‘Chris was my first love. Nobody else can be my fairy-tale ending. That ship has sailed.’

‘I have to go.’ Freddy stands abruptly.

‘What? Why?’

‘I just have to go. See you in Frankfurt.’ Freddy looks like he wants to say something else. But then he turns and strides away.

I am left alone, with piles of Italian food and an untouched dessert. This would ordinarily make me very happy. Instead, my stomach has tightened, and I don’t feel like eating at all.

I look down at my gaudy engagement ring and see that, yet again, it has slid to the side and rubbed a red line on my little finger. Experimentally, I take it off and look at my bare hand. Then I put it on again.

I don’t have time to hang around, waiting for dreams to come true. I will be thirty-five this year. My job is to accept reality and try very hard to smile on my wedding day.

CHAPTER52

Freddy arrives early at Heathrow Airport wearing the latest Bang Olsen headphones with a copy of the Financial Times under his arm. He avoids the first-class lounge because he guesses Kat will be there enjoying a three-course breakfast with champagne. That’s what everyone does when they don’t fly first class regularly. Rapidly consume complimentary food and drink like they’re under siege.

Instead, Freddy heads straight to the priority boarding gate and boards the plane before anyone else. Once onboard, he enquires about empty seats. There have been a few last-minute cancellations, as Freddy predicted, so he takes an unoccupied seat near the front of the plane. Once comfortable on luxurious, leather, Freddy opens his copy of the Financial Times and pretends to read.

Inevitably, a shadow falls over him. It’s Kat, dressed in geometric trousers, a bright green jumper and a tailored coat. She has great hair. High heels. Stylish luggage. Definitely wife material.

‘You’re in the wrong seat.’

Freddy doesn’t look up from his newspaper. ‘I moved. Don’t take it personally. I like to sit near the front –’

‘Don’t give me that.’ Kat removes Freddy’s headphones and drops them in his lap. ‘You’re avoiding me.’

‘I’m not.’

‘You are.’ Kat pushes down his Financial Times. ‘Ever since you walked out on me at the British Library. This newspaper is a prop. As are those oversized headphones. I’m amazed you’re not sitting here in a bowler hat and fake moustache.’

‘I’m just listening to a podcast –’

‘There’s no sound coming out of those headphones. Come on, Freddy. What’s going on? Why did you switch seats?’

Freddy sighs. He should have had an excuse ready. Now he’ll have to say something on the spot and, surprisingly for a salesperson, he’s not good at lying.

‘I’m scared of flying.’Oh, for fuck’s sake.

‘That might explain today,’ says Kat. ‘But what about you walking out on me at the British Library? And ignoring my calls?’

‘I just thought we were getting too close. You’re about to get married and I’m an eternal lady’s man. I didn’t want things to get confused.’

‘Good god, you’re arrogant Freddy Stark.’ Kat drops down into the seat beside him. ‘Not every woman is susceptible to your charms. Some of us like sweet, unassuming men like Ahmet with naturally brown skin, rather than a spray tan.’