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## ME BLACKBERRY FOOL, YOU APPLE TART

AMELIA SLOCOMBE

CHILLI DOG PUBLISHING

Front cover by Miss Swanne

Copyright 2015 Chillidog Publishing

## FROM THE AUTHOR

This is fundamentally a book about a lawyer. And it's dedicated to all the lawyers out there who wake up in the morning and want nothing more than to stay in bed and not go to work. Because being a lawyer in a top London law firm is actually one of the most depressing jobs known to man.

So why hasn't a lawyer spilt the beans on the legal profession before? Because they've never had the fucking time. You try working a 15-hour day, seven days a week and then see if you've got time to write a book about how shitty your life is.

But I did find the time. Not because I'm a saint, but because I went on secondment. And it gave me a glimpse of a better life. Oh, and there were also some other things that happened to me that inspired me to write a book. After all, no one would want to read a book purely about being a lawyer. Not a real-life lawyer anyway.

Readers may also wonder about the relevance of a book that begins on 9 December 2012. The date itself is of no importance whatsoever – that just happens to be the date that the underlying story begins. And every story has to start somewhere.

This book is not entirely a true story, but (like they say in the movies) it's based on real people and real events. I'll say no more – I'm a lawyer after all, and I wouldn't want anyone to sue me.

DEDICATION

Dedicated to the ones I love,

about whom certain characters may

(loosely) be based. I love you all.

And in memory of my mum,

who always told me I could do

anything I wanted to.

9 December 2012

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Revelation

9 December 2012, 18:45

I am currently sat on my bed, writing this email, dressed in what can only be described as an adult baby-grow.

It is by far the best invention in the history of nightwear and M&S should be knighted for it. I really should write to commend the gifted individual who had the foresight to realise that there was an obvious niche in the market for people who hate sexy underwear, but who want a practical alternative to Winnie the Pooh pyjamas.

The only problem is, it does have the rather fundamental flaw of stopping you from ever going to the loo without stripping completely naked. I've nearly been caught short on a couple of occasions when bursting for a wee and realising just in time that it takes a good six seconds to get the bloody thing off. Fortunately I haven't wet myself yet. Although I imagine there might be some older people out there who, in the same situation, might not be quite so fortunate. That reminds me, I must do my pelvic floor exercises before I go to bed tonight...

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Revelation

9 December 2012, 18:54

Evening!

God, you are fucking weird sometimes!

If I'm going to be brutally honest, I can't see this fat suit thing catching on. You should probably have bought in bulk. AND this isn't the first time you've told me something is utterly amazing, only to find it's failed to capture the imagination of any other human being on this planet.

Prime example?! Those technicolor t-shirts you had to blow hot air on to make them change colour. You CLAIMED they were cool. Fuck knows why. And you kept ignoring the fact that complete strangers would just come up and BREATHE on you. It was only when David Moore took the piss out of your multi-coloured sweat patches that you finally stopped wearing them!

And whilst we're on the subject of impulsive and utterly useless purchases, are you still using that pointless "super-cream"? Have you even told Tubby how much it costs for a year's supply?!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

The Super-cream Debate

9 December 2012, 19:06

Clearly the exaltation of my £14.99 M&S baby-grow has made me forget about my usual nightly dilemmas. Thanks for reminding me.

As a result of that cruel throwaway comment, I am now sat with a shaving mirror next to my face, trying to monitor whether or not my skin has benefited from a 38% reduction in fine lines. I am already pretty certain that I am NOT one of the 87% of women who see a visible difference within the first two weeks of use. Why am I always in the bloody minority?

Also, can you tell me why magnifying mirrors were ever invented, other than to reduce the world population by encouraging any woman who looks in one to want to kill herself? Surely they serve no useful purpose? As far as I can see, they only serve to magnify the bits of your face that you already know are large and unattractive, acting as a ghastly illustration of all that you hate about your face, but five times the size!

Anyway, I am still debating whether my "super-cream" is actually working and also mentally calculating whether to save an extra £365 a year by buying a Boots own-brand moisturiser instead. Unfortunately the very word "own-brand" screams of inferiority and I'm not sure I can take the risk that I might wake up one day looking like a postmenopausal walrus. Also, do you remember our conversation last week when we debated whether my right eye was still smaller than my left? I think we finally decided that draining the bag under the smaller eye would rectify the problem? Yet surely this emphasises that I should not give up the super-cream, since it quite clearly claims on the side of the pot to reduce under-eye bags by 15%? Without it, would I look like a frog with a hangover? I can only conclude that I should not swap the super-cream for a less expensive product in case this were to occur – I simply cannot run the risk of further facial lop-sidedness.

I obviously haven't told Toby the yearly cost of my facial creams. He gets annoyed if I flush the loo after a wee (he says we could save a rainforest a year if we only flushed after a number two). Obviously he asks me how much I pay for my nightly pea-sized dollup of gloop but I've become incredibly good nowadays when I go shopping at: 1) hiding the receipts; and 2) mentally subtracting 35% from the original price when he asks. Anything more than 35% and he gets suspicious. Anything less and he takes my Amex away from me (even though I earn all the money and therefore I still maintain that he has no right to do so).

By the way, can you remind me to google "coming off pill" and "increased facial hair" tomorrow morning at work? Also, do you think £499 is a bit much for six laser treatments to remove all my armpit hair?

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Your ridiculous spending

9 December 2012, 19:15

£499?! I know you lawyers earn an absolute fortune but that is fucking ridiculous!! I felt guilty the other day for buying a pair of reindeer earmuffs.

Also, why are you coming off the pill?! PLEASE don't tell me it's because you and Tubs have started "trying"?! I am only just over the fact that my best friend has moved in with her boyfriend. The thought of you having a child would probably finish me off!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Your ridiculous spending

9 December 2012, 19:24

No, we're not "trying" as you so delicately put it. I am off the pill to try and re-regulate my cycle. According to an article I read the other day, it's a good idea to kick your ovaries back into their natural rhythm every couple of years. If you don't, your brain can turn off your menstrual cycle so that when you do try to have children, you have problems. Think of it like jump-starting an old car battery every winter.

Coming off the pill has also made Toby happy and should keep him quiet for a few months. He's pretty desperate to have kids before he's 35 (something to do with being young enough to kick a ball around with his son in the park – he seems to think he'll get chronic arthritis in five years' time). Unfortunately I still haven't told him that I refuse to have children until you can grow them in a vat, independently of one's actual body. By the way, I did google it the other day but no one other than the two of us seems to have thought of the idea yet. It does worry me somewhat that they haven't even got to protocol stage in the US - this unfortunately suggests we are a long way off. Perhaps it is something we should look into? We could even go on Dragon's Den to raise the finance? What we lack in scientific knowledge we more than make up for in originality and the ability to use effective power point slides. Not that we have any spare cash to invest in the business ourselves – that could prove tricky...

By the way, you should feel guilty for buying a pair of reindeer earmuffs. What on earth were you thinking?! You're supposed to be the fashionable one!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Don't mock the muffs

9 December 2012, 19:28

They were for an eighties-themed Christmas party before you get on your high horse. Or maybe I should say, clothes' horse – boom boom!!

Sorry for ranting about your spending habits. Maybe I'm just jealous because you're a high-flying legal genius who earns about quadruple my salary. Why the fuck did I go into Marketing?!

Anyway, I'm very relieved to hear that you are not "with child". I am also gutted that the vat technique has not been developed yet. It was at least 15 years ago that we thought of that. Obviously our minds are a lot more advanced than the average scientist. Which makes me wonder how I only got a fucking B in GCSE Biology?!

Totally up for going on Dragon's Den btw. I think Debra would definitely see the potential of our idea. If the vat thing doesn't work, we could fall back on one of our other inventions. Pretty sure they've all been pretty shit so far though!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Don't mock the muffs

9 December 2012, 19:31

Says the girl with a turbo charged VW Beetle and a thoroughbred horse! No wonder you don't have any spare cash!

You got a B in GCSE Biology because you didn't do any bloody revision! In fact, you only got the B because I wrote up your practical for you.

Talking of Biology, how are things going with you and Spencer at the moment? I haven't received an email from you in the last hour informing me that it's all over, so I assume things are going swimmingly.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: Don't mock the muffs

9 _December 2012, 19:35_

Before I even START on Spencer, my "thoroughbred" (AKA inbred and therefore slightly insane) horse is driving me mental! Aristotle may have a family tree to match Desert Orchid, but I'm beginning to realise why I got him so cheaply. I think he has ADHD (or equine equivalent) because that horse is more hyper than a chipmunk on speed. He's even worse than that girl at our school (Christine? Cassie?) who used to throw chalk erasers across the classroom. Aristotle threw me off TWICE last week! I honestly don't know what the fuck his problem is. I might have to cut down on his food, which can only be a good thing because at the moment I'm spending most of my salary on something that looks and smells like mould.

Which reminds me – how do I get rid of damp?! At the moment I'm just wiping it with a cloth. I'm guessing it's just condensation but I don't want to open the window in case I kill Adolphe.

And as for Spencer...it's all going fine. I think. I haven't heard much from him in the last couple of days but he's promised to call me tonight. :.)

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Aristotle

9 December 2012,19:46

I've told you so many times to get rid of that horse but you never listen to me. One of these days you're seriously going to hurt yourself. You have been warned!

I have no idea how to get rid of damp - I'll ask Toby. However, just to let you know, he'll probably recommend some environmentally-friendly concoction that will involve having to boil vinegar with bicarbonate of soda. It'll do the trick, but your flat will smell like a fish and chip shop for a month.

I've got to log off now anyway – it's time for my Sunday night chat with my dad and I won't have the energy if I leave it too late. He phoned Toby whilst I was at work on Friday and spoke to him for two hours about kitchen utensils. I'm surprised Toby made it through the conversation alive.

Speak tomorrow!

Isla xxx

Ps. Remember to phone Vodafone tomorrow! Am getting fed up with emailing you when you're at home. You know Toby has issues with my laptop usage as it is!

PPs. Will you please get that fish a water heater? Tropical fish are not supposed to live in sub-arctic temperatures. And I hope you've cleaned that tank now – the last time I came round I couldn't see Adolphe through the gloom.

10 December 2012

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

The world has ended

10 December 2012, 9:33

Morning!!

I can't believe it's only 9.30am on a Monday morning and there has already been a work catastrophe. I've just received the following from Linda:

Dear colleague,

As some of you are probably aware, I was kind enough to bake and bring in some chocolate shortbread to celebrate my 55th birthday last week. However, it appears that someone has taken it upon themselves to steal the Labrador puppy biscuit tin in which the shortbread was contained.

This tin has a great deal of sentimental value, having been bought by my husband as a gift on our honeymoon in 1977.

I am hoping that the removal of the tin was a genuine mistake, as opposed to a deliberate theft. I am therefore offering a 24-hour amnesty, to enable the culprit to return the tin to its original place by the decaf tea bags.

Provided the tin is returned by 9am tomorrow, I will say no more about it.

Kind regards.

Linda

I've already told Linda I saw Ben hanging around the kitchen looking suspicious last Friday. It's a bit harsh, I know. Ben is about as likely to steal a biscuit tin as he is to have a sex change. But he did eat my last packet of wasabi peas last week and therefore deserves everything he gets! :.)

Also, what sort of person buys their spouse a biscuit tin on their honeymoon???

Speak soon no doubt!

Rach x

Ps. My phone is now sorted. I changed provider after I found out my previous one had zero coverage in my block of flats. So you can now call me on my mobile whilst at home. Next job on my list: getting a landline!

PPs. I am ignoring your comments from last night about Adolphe. I swear I'll buy him a tropical fish tank when I can afford it. Unfortunately until then he will have to make do with living next to a radiator and having his fish bowl balanced on top of my hot water bottle.

PPPs. Spencer is currently AWOL. Last communication received at 0200 hours on the N19 night bus. I'm guessing he made it home, but despite me calling him 23 times this morning, I don't know this for sure. Should I be worried?!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: The world has ended

10 December 2012, 9:46

Rach,

I love the biscuit tin message – you do realise you are working in 1984? I know you hate the place but I utterly envy you. I got into the office at 7:24 this morning. I already had two messages from that moron on the other side wanting to know whether we could complete our deal today, despite the fact he already knows that this is impossible because HIS client is out of the country until tomorrow. I was tempted to send him the following email:

Dear knob-jockey,

As you are already aware, your numpty of a client (who clearly has no idea what this deal is even about, despite the fact he is set to make _£_ 20m out of it) is in the US until tomorrow. Therefore, unless you plan to transport him "beam me up Scotty" style from Florida to Liverpool Street in the next hour, there is absolutely no possibility on this earth that we will be able to complete today. In addition, as you are fully aware, I still haven't had any comments from you on the documents, despite the fact that I sent them to you last Tuesday. So don't even try to send me an email acting like Bobby Big Bullocks when you have actually done sod all work on this transaction to date.

And copying everyone into your email (including my client) in an effort to make me look bad really is the lowest of the low. Only real bastards do that.

And don't think you're fooling me by sending that email at 6:19 this morning. I know for a fact that you sent it from your home whilst in bed.

P*** off,

Isla

Instead I sent:

Dear Terence

Thank you for your email.

We will endeavour to complete this transaction today. However, I note that we are still awaiting your amendments to the documents that I sent through to you last Tuesday. I also understand that your client is in the US until tomorrow. If these arrangements have changed, please let me know so that I can check whether my client is available to sign documents today. I will also need to have any outstanding comments at your earliest opportunity.

Best regards.

Isla

Clearly I am going to end up staying here until midnight tonight just to illustrate that I am "ready and able" to complete this sodding deal. God, I hate my job.

Isles xxx

Ps. You know full well there is no need to call Spencer. He'll resurface as he always does at about 3pm this afternoon after he has crawled into work and slept off his hangover in the Gents. I still can't believe that he actually gets paid the same as me for seemingly doing little more than getting drunk with clients. It makes me resent my job even more.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Quick Question

10 December 2012, 11:46

I took your advice and haven't called Spencer yet. Still no word though. Maybe I should call his secretary just to check he made it into work today? :.(

What do you think?

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Quick Question

10 December 2012, 12:52

Busy with cock features on the other side. Can't talk now – have spent the last hour trying to convince my client that agreeing to delete clause 42 of the loan agreement is the equivalent to being butt-raped by a dinosaur. Unfortunately he's already conceded the point and so I've now got to speak to Terence to retract it. I've already been called "disingenuous" by him once today. He clearly used a thesaurus to come up with that one. Big vocabulary, small penis as far as I'm concerned.

Also just eaten a whole packet of hobnobs. And to make matters worse, I've started pulling my hair out again. I think it's a nervous thing but I've started to worry that it's going to make me go bald. Basically I'll look like Gollum from Lord of the Rings. I may as well kill myself now.

DON'T CALL SPENCER!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Boyfriend missing, presumed dead

10 December 2012, 12:58

At least you're doing something constructive with your day. I've spent the whole morning trying to decide whether to use Arial or Times New Roman for my PowerPoint presentation.

Ignoring your advice, as usual, I called Spencer's secretary but pretended to be a client. She said that he was "in meetings all morning". Cryptic. Still none the wiser...arghhhhhhhh!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

The cretin has resurfaced

10 December 2012, 14:03

He called.

He was out last night with Alex. Again!! It makes me so fucking angry!! I get the whole "bros before hoes" thing. And I know Alex is going through a bad time with Renee at the moment. But surely he could have still fucking called to let me know where he was?! He said his phone ran out of battery and that by the time he got home, he was too drunk to remember where his phone charger was. He then overslept and didn't get into work until 10.

I wouldn't mind if I actually believed him. What do you think? I'm pretty sure it's all Alex's fault. He's leading him astray again. Cock.

He's promised to make it up to me by cooking a romantic dinner tonight. I might get excited about it if he didn't still live with his mum!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: The cretin has resurfaced

_10 December 2012, 1_ 5:36

What a knob. Will email you later. Having a bit of a mare at work. I am considering hiring an assassin to take Terence out. Know anyone??

11 December 2012

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

What did I do to deserve this?

11 December 2012, 00:52

WHY THE BLOODY HELL AM I STILL AT WORK?

Received comments from the other side, just as I was about to shut down at 6:30. That dickhead of a lawyer, whose full name is incidentally Terence Rathmount III (and yes, he is American – no one of any other nationality, apart from the Queen, would actually think to put numbers after their name) has requested that we get documents agreed before tomorrow! I suggested to Ashok that we tell him where he could stick his documents (I did phrase it a little more politely) but he told me that I have to "play the game". To make it worse, he emailed me back just as he was swanning off to a black-tie ball at the Dorchester hotel!

Anyway, I've since spent the whole evening marking up and sending back documents. I finished two hours ago but I've got to hang around for a call with Terence (who, unsurprisingly, has evaporated into the ether again).

I know I go on about this all the time (and I'm sorry) but how the hell did I end up in this job? Being a lawyer was supposed to be glamorous, rewarding and motivational. That's what Miss Bray always used to say anyway. In actual fact, it's dull, totally uninspiring and about as stimulating as watching an obese lesbian in a porno. Fat lot of use school career departments are for telling you the truth about your future profession!

Why didn't I just ignore Miss Bray (who was hardly inspirational) and go to drama school? I should have stuck to my guns and told my parents that no, I didn't need a degree to be a success and yes, you can get job satisfaction without being well paid.

I also forget to tell you before but I saw HER in the Sunday Times Style magazine at the weekend. Am I forevermore to be taunted by her face on the cover of every bloody magazine I pick up?

Ooh – better go – Terence appears to be calling me.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: What did I do to deserve this?

11 December 2012, 1:34

WE AREN'T COMPLETING UNTIL WEDNESDAY!!!!!!

Had better call a taxi I suppose. The only highlight of working late is the fact that I can get a cab home. I do wish I didn't live in "suburbia" at times like this – I just want to go to bed. Ealing seems so very far away right now.

Will speak to you tomorrow.

Ps. I don't think there's any point in me telling you that Spencer's stories never strike me as being particularly sincere. As much as I like the guy, he does seem to cause you an endless amount of grief. Anyone would think that he was the premiership footballer, not the best friend of one. Talking of which, when am I going to meet the gorgeous Alex Robertson? Surely it's about time!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

In answer to your questions

11 December 2012, 10:03

Hey you!

The hours that you put in at that place are a fucking disgrace. You may earn shitloads in terms of annual salary, but your hourly rate is probably less than minimum wage!

In answer to your questions...

  1. What sort of cretin puts numbers after their name?? That is the most wankerish thing I have ever heard. I hope you kick his arse at the coverant negotiation. Or whatever it is you actually do.

  2. Yes, you will forever be taunted by her face, as will I, and anyone who knew her at school. Although it's obviously more of a kick in the front bottom for you, because you did GCSE Drama together. And obviously having the same first name has got to be a KILLER. That said, Isla Deveau sounds a lot more exotic than Isla Butterfield!

  3. Stop asking me when you're going to meet Alex. You're taken!

Anyway, gotta go. I have to change my FB status so that Spencer will see it and get jealous. I'm going to put "Rachel is looking forward to her lunch out with a friend". What do you think? I'm just going for a quick drink with Ben, but he doesn't need to know that. And just to rub it in even more, I'm going to upload a photo of our night out last weekend. The one where I'm standing next to that fit Aussie barman.

Speak later!

Ps. The biscuit tin saga continues. Linda has started putting up "Missing" posters. She's even done an artist's impression. Unfortunately the Labrador puppies in her rendition look more like monkeys. Ha!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Morning!

11 December 2012, 11:34

Rach,

It's covenant, not coverant. I've explained the concept to you before but have no desire to tell you again. Mainly because I usually end up boring myself. The taxi driver last night made the mistake of asking me what I did for a living (after I'd learnt all about his wife, children, hobbies and life mantras). I gave him plenty of opportunities to back out from having to hear the answer: I said all the preliminary stuff that I now feel obliged to say, such as: "I promise you, it's really dull" and "oh you know, just the usual lawyerly stuff" but the idiot persisted until I was forced to explain exactly what a finance lawyer does. By the time I'd finished, the poor man had pretty much drifted off in the fast lane of the A40. I think next time someone asks me what I do for a living, I'll just make something up. I quite fancy saying something like "Fine Art Curator" or "Chocolate Taster".

You'll be pleased to know that work has eased off today. Which no doubt means it'll kick off again just as I'm about to shut down my computer tonight to go home. The last time this happened, I got last minute tickets to go and see Chicago with Toby, only for Michelle to come into my office at 5:30 on the dot to tell me that I was required to assist with a completion meeting. When I told her that I had theatre tickets, she told me not to worry, I could just put them through as an expense on the file if I couldn't get my money back!

I agree with the numbers after the name thing. So pompous. Do you think it's something anyone can do, or is there a pre-requisite that you must be a complete twat?

Thanks for rubbing it in about ID as well. God, even writing her initials riles me. I saw she was in Heat magazine AGAIN today. Fortunately, featured in the "Worst Dressed" section, which has improved my mood no end. She really should know that wearing a flesh coloured, skin-tight mini dress never looks good on camera (even if you are a size zero)! She looked like a human sausage. Or an incredibly smooth penis.

And don't worry - I honestly have NO desire to meet Alex Robertson. Partly because I'm not sure I can face meeting someone who earns more in a week than I do in a year, but mainly because (from what you tell me) he sounds like a complete tool.

How did things go with Spencer last night? Did he cook anything nice?

I can't believe you're going out for a drink with Ben! You know he's infatuated with you. Please don't flirt too much - I know what you're like after a couple of drinks. I've even thought you might be coming on to me in the past...

Oh, and please don't upload that photo! You look fantastic but I look like a creature from the Walking Dead. I have a much nicer one you can put up. I'll send it to you now.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Morning!

11 December 2012, 11:46

Isles - what the hell are you on about?! I hope you're joking! What did I do?!

DO NOT talk to me about last night. I'm so fucking pissed off. I've already cried twice this morning. Thank God I have my make-up bag at work. And a semi-decent waterproof mascara.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Re: Morning!

11 December 2012, 11:50

Oh dear. What happened?

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: Re: Morning!

11 December 2012, 12:03

Well....all was well when I left work at 4:59 (which, FYI, is punctual for people with normal professions). Spencer told me to be at his place for 7:30, which gave me just about enough time to put the horse to bed, wash off the smell of horse shit and glam myself up a bit.

When I eventually got on the train at Maidenhead, I called Spencer. I couldn't get through on his mobile and so I phoned his home and ended up speaking to his mum. Who had absolutely no idea that I was even coming over! Now it's bad enough that Spencer is a 30-year old man living at home, but SURELY if you're going to invite your girlfriend round for dinner, you either ask your mum to go out for the evening or (at the very least) tell her she's coming!!!

By the time I've got off the phone to his mum, I'm already at Paddington station and jumping on the tube. By the time I get to Highbury, I'm 10 minutes late and expect to be welcomed by Spencer with a large bouquet of flowers, a fat snog and a bottle of wine. I'm actually invited in by his mum because Spencer still isn't home.

Can you fucking believe it, TWO HOURS LATER and Spencer still isn't there! By which time I am absolutely fuming and starving hungry. So his mum takes pity on me and makes me beans on toast. We make small talk for another 30 minutes before Spencer eventually comes/staggers through the door. No flowers and no carrier bag full of gourmet food - he is however clutching a bottle of crappy looking Chardonnay which has "corner shop" written all over it. He is clearly absolutely rat-arsed but trying his best not to look it. I go mental at him, demanding to know where he's been for the last five hours (it is now gone 10pm) and why he couldn't at least have called me to tell me not to bother coming. His excuse? You'll love this! According to him, he was just getting off the train from work when he saw an old lady getting mugged by two guys on bikes. Spencer immediately intervened and knocked one of them out cold. The other one did a runner and Spencer spent the next two hours looking after the old lady, taking her to hospital and then arranging for a taxi to drop her off afterwards. Rather than accuse him of lying, I ask him why he smells of alcohol. He claims that he was so wound up after the event, he popped into the pub for a quick pint on his way home. I ask him where the food is for our meal. He replies that he realised it was too late to cook and so he thought he would order us a takeaway. I tell him that I've already eaten and that it's now far too late to eat anyway, at which point he gets all sulky and I end up comforting him! Meanwhile Spencer's mum, who has fallen for everything Spencer has told us, goes upstairs to run him a "nice hot bath". I promptly give up any hope of a romantic night in and tell him I'm going to bed in the spare room.

I honestly wonder whether I should just break up with him and be done with it. I put so much effort into our relationship, but seem to get fuck all back. Maybe I should wait for my birthday and see what he buys me? Not that I'm holding out much hope - the last gift he bought me was a notebook made out of recycled elephant poo. :.(

FYI, there is absolutely nothing going on between Ben and me. He's the only person at my work capable of a bit of banter. If it wasn't for him, I'd go nuts.

12 December 2012

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Spencer

12 December 2012, 12:34

Rach

Sorry I didn't get back to you yesterday. My completion was brought forward and I ended up working manically for 20 hours.

Yes, I was only joking about you coming on to me. I just know that you get particularly frisky after a couple of glasses of white wine!

As for the Spencer story, I really don't know what you should believe. On the one hand, saving an old lady from being mugged is exactly the sort of thing Spencer would do. On the other, getting pissed with his mates and forgetting about your dinner date is also not outside the realms of possibility. Whatever the reason, he does seem to stress you out an awful lot.

Perhaps he's just a little bit immature and will grow up in a couple of years? I remember all too vividly what Toby was like when we first started going out. There was one Christmas Eve when I was supposed to pick him up after his work Christmas party. I'd spent the whole evening getting a romantic dinner prepared. I drove to his work to collect him, only to find out he wasn't there. Half an hour and 50 missed calls later, I decided he'd been mugged and killed on Christmas Eve and that I was going to die alone and childless. Five minutes later, my phone rang. It was Toby, mumbling that he'd fallen asleep on a station platform. He had completely forgotten that I was going to pick him up and had attempted to get the train home. He was then sick on the train and so decided he needed some fresh air. For some inexplicable reason, he thought he would feel better lying down on the station platform and had promptly fallen asleep. An hour later, he was woken up by a friendly passer-by and, in a panic, jumped on the first train that came into the station. Which happened to be in the wrong direction. Rather than call me to let me know, he fell asleep again and ended up two hours from home with no way of getting back. I had to go and get him at 2am on Christmas Eve and we didn't get in until dawn. As you can imagine, I was not a happy bunny. On the plus side, he felt so terrible about it that he didn't get drunk for about two months afterwards. And funnily enough, he hasn't done anything like it since!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Tubs

12 December 2012, 13:03

Did you make up that story about Tubby to make me feel better?! If not, I'm not sure we're talking about the same bloke. The Toby I know is the man who irons his socks, won't let me sit on the sofa after he's poofed the sofa cushions and who shouts at you for leaving the lid up on the fairy liquid bottle. He doesn't seem wild enough to pass out on station platforms!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Tubs

12 December 2012, 13:34

I'll have you know Toby can be very wild when he wants to be. You should see his naked Bollywood dance...

Talking of Bollywood, I popped round to cook dinner for my dad last night. Not that he's incapable of cooking since mum left but everything he makes looks and tastes like baby food. We had a fairly pleasant evening (for a change) and when I was saying goodbye to him at the front door, his Indian neighbour (who has just moved in) happened to be in the driveway. My dad (who has never spoken to her before) gives her a wave and for some INSANE reason, proceeds to tell her in a very loud voice, how much he enjoyed Slumdog Millionaire when he saw it at the cinema. Now, this lady may be Indian but she is more English than I am and is clearly flummoxed as to what to say. So she nods politely and hurries indoors, clearly thinking that my dad has some kind of mental illness. My dad is very confused, and I have to explain to him that, although he was trying to be friendly, he came across as a bit of a loon. I mean, you wouldn't shout out to your white neighbour that you'd just been to see the English Patient, would you? When I explain this to my dad, he is obviously mortified and wants to go round to check that he hasn't caused offence. Fortunately I managed to convince him otherwise.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

No comment!

12 December 2012, 14:03

Didn't read the second paragraph of your email properly. Can't get the mental image of Tubby dancing naked to Bollywood music out of my head! For some reason, I've got an image of him with nothing on apart from a pair of Hunter wellies. No offence Isles, but I think I might throw up! ;.)

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: No comment!

12 December 2012, 14:38

I just popped out for lunch and grabbed a paper on the way back. I think you should take a look at today's Sun (which I hasten to add, I wouldn't otherwise have bought). I don't think Spencer was out saving grannies last night – not unless the granny he rescued was hanging about outside Fait Accompli, that is. There's a picture of the loutish Alex Robertson hitting a photographer. Spencer, unfortunately, has been caught on camera behind him, giving the photographer the finger.

Don't worry. I won't mention Toby's dance skills again.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

I am going to kill him

12 December 2012, 15:08

OMG!!! I cannot believe him! What a fucking arsehole! That boy is a compulsive liar! Why didn't he tell me he was going out with Alex?!

I'm going to call him right now and demand a meet-up.

Men are complete and utter bastards. You're so lucky you've got Toby. He may be geeky and a bit of an old woman when it comes to the environment, but at least he doesn't go around swearing at the paparazzi!

Text Messages

12 December 2012

Isla, 18:06

My life is a disaster!

Rachel, 18:10

Y?

Isla, 18:11

Stck on bus. Standstill. Only time I leave work at 5.30 an the bloody centrl line goes dwn!

Rachel, 18:12

Oh dear :.(

Isla, 18:13

Lookin 4ward to hearin how your confrontation with Spencer goes... xx

Rachel, 18:15

He's just arrived. Will email you tomorrow! X

Isla, 18:16

Don't have sex in the pub toilet this time!

Rachel, 18:17

Piss off! ;.)

Isla, 19:07

AM MORTIFIED. Just been thrown off a bus!

Rachel, 19:20

What did you do?!?

Isla, 19:21

My umbrella got stck in the door an the back doors of the bus broke down. Wouldn't shut properly so bus couldn't move til it was fixed. Hrdly a criminal offence but the otehr passengers made m e get off!!!!!!

Rachel, 19:23

That is hilarious! xx

Isla, 19:24

Sod's law, the secon I got off, the doors freed themselvs and the bus sailed off without me.

Isla, 19:25

And I then saw some AWFUJL woman bend down 2 steal my beautiful Jaegar umbrella.

Isla, 19:26

Now at the bus stop waiting for the nxt bus. Want to cry.

Isla, 20:35

Home. Three buses, one taxi and a mile walk. In the rain. Please tell me your night was better than mine.

13 December 2012

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Morning

13 December 2012, 9:22

Wow – your night sounds horrendous! At least you got home okay eventually. I would like to say I'm sorry you got your umbrella nicked, but actually your texts made me piss myself laughing! Sorry. I just have this vision of a blond girl in five-inch heels and Burberry trench having to totter home in a downpour. You've got to admit that's quite funny...

You'll be pleased to hear that my evening went a little better...

I asked Spencer to meet me after work for a drink and was stunned he was only five minutes late. I'd kind of hoped he'd be waiting for me when I got there, bottle of champagne at the ready, but I didn't mind too much having to wait for a little bit (especially because the cute waiter gave me a free Mojito as soon as I sat down)!

So, Spencer arrived and was clearly ready for a bollocking because the first thing he did was kiss me and tell me how gorgeous I looked. I then proceeded to tell him exactly what I thought of him.

Since I've got nothing better to do at work right now, here's a blow-by-blow account of the conversation:

Me: Spencer, I'm really really fucked off with you.

Spencer: Why?

Me: You know why!

Spencer: No I don't. Do you want another Mojito?

Me: Oh...yes please, but easy on the sugar. [5 minute wait whilst Spencer ponces around at the bar]. Anyway, I'm really really fucked off with you because you told me that you were going to cook me an amazing meal last night and instead you ended up going out with Alex and getting pissed. But worse than that, you lied about where you were and left me waiting at yours with your mum!

Spencer: I'm really sorry about that babe. But Alex is going through a shitty time right now.

Me: Alex is always going through a shitty time! Anyone would think he ran the country!

Spencer: That's a bit harsh. Alex and Renee had another fight and he was cut up about it. It's the second time in a week she's thrown a hissy fit and threatened to leave. He was really down about that and the fact that Spurs lost to Arsenal a couple of weeks ago and so he asked me to meet him for a couple of pints. I just lost track of time.

Me: Why didn't you tell him that you were cooking me dinner?

Spencer: I did tell him, but he said he really needed to talk. It's not like he has anyone else. He's always said I'm the only one he can trust. He doesn't really see the other guys outside the game and he doesn't like talking to his other mates cos he reckons they'll sell out on him. He still hasn't got over Jay selling those pictures in Aya Napa.

Me: How can you have so much sympathy for him? It's not like he can't afford a fucking therapist!

Spencer: Money doesn't bring you happiness, Rach. Anyway, Alex is like a brother to me.

Me: And I'm supposed to be your girlfriend! Doesn't that count for anything? You couldn't even manage to cook me dinner last night. But if Alex asked you to jump off a cliff, not only would you do it, you'd ask him if there was anything else you could do for him on the off-chance you didn't die from the impact!

Spencer: Don't be like that babe. Alex doesn't have an easy time of it. Yeah he gets paid a fucking fortune, but it's a stressful job. He's got so much pressure on him. You know he almost lost the Nike sponsorship last month.

Me: Oh for fuck's sake! He nearly lost the Nike sponsorship because he got photographed in some strip club with a pair of thongs on his head! It hardly surprises me that Nike felt the need to give him a formal warning. And I should probably remind you that you made a guest appearance in that photo as well!

Spencer: And I explained how that happened. I thought we were over that.

Me: I thought we were too. But then I go round your house for dinner after you've promised that you'll cook me a lovely meal and make up for all the shit that you've put me through and not only do you turn up four hours late but you make up some bullshit excuse about some granny.

Spencer: Babe, I didn't lie to you. What I told you about the old lady was completely true. That happened on my way home. I just didn't tell you about the drinks with Alex first.

Me: So the bit about the old lady was true?

Spencer: Absolutely. As if I would lie about something like that. That's absurd.

Me: Well I suppose I can forgive you if you promise to just phone me next time you're held up. Okay?

Spencer: I promise. I really love you Rach. You know that.

The rest, as they say, is history. We had a few drinks at the bar, went for a bite to eat (which, as usual, I had to pay for because Spencer had left his wallet in his other jacket) and then we went back to mine for some amazing make-up sex! Sometimes I actually think it's worth the arguing...

So, in conclusion, it's all back on for the time being.

Btw, Spencer also insisted that he take me out on Saturday. I obviously told him that I couldn't because it was our monthly girl's night out. So he suggested that the two of us go out with him and Alex. Apparently Alex has promised Spencer a proper night out on the town and Spencer wants to show me how committed he is to our relationship by taking me (and by association, you) along. What do you think?

Hope you made it into work okay today!

Rach x

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Morning

13 December 2012, 10:22

Despite having zero desire to meet, or talk to, Alex Robertson, I know that you want to spend more time with Spencer, so I suppose I can live with it. Hopefully I won't have to have a conversation with him – God knows what we'd talk about.

Unfortunately I need to get back to the mundane existence that is my working life, so I will have to call you about this later. I'm round dad's again for dinner tonight so it'll probably be after 10.

I am not even going to comment on your dialogue with Spencer. I am still sceptical as to how you fit in drinks with your best friend and an assault on a photographer with time to spare to save little old ladies, all in one night (Spencer seems to have himself confused with Iron Man) but I'm going to just let it go. Let's just say that I'm happy you're happy.

On to more important matters, have you seen the interview with Isla Deveau in the Guardian? Completely ruined my day. You would not believe some of the rubbish that she came out with! She went on and on about her childhood on a West London council estate and how her mum used to scrimp and save to pay for her Drama lessons. What a complete load of tripe - she went to bloody private school! She also described her style as "flea market chic". What in God's name, may I ask, is flea market chic? I'll tell you what it isn't - it isn't the designer outfits that I seem to recall her wearing to every school disco we went to!

To think that I beat her to the part of Hermia in A Midsummer's Night's Dream. It almost breaks my heart. Admittedly she is prettier than me (with a far more symmetrical face which is obviously better suited to film) but I had so much more talent. Didn't I?

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Isla Deveau sucks arse

13 December 2012, 12:45

Don't worry, it won't be that bad! We'll get to hang out in the VIP of some fancy Mayfair club and won't have to pay for anything all night! And as much as I HATE to say it, Alex can be quite sweet when he wants to be.

Also, please don't buy an expensive outfit. I know what you're like! You'll buy a ridiculous designer number with matching accessories and shoes, look amazing but wear it once and spend the rest of your life trying to justify the price of something that won't be back in fashion for another 20 years (and hiding it from Tubs).

Of course you have more talent than Isla Deveau. And her face may be more symmetrical, but yours is WAY more interesting.

Looking forward to speaking later! It'll make a change talking on the phone for once. Sometimes I feel like I've forgotten the sound of your voice. I still don't understand why you don't let me call your office anymore.

Ooh, I have some great news too!

Rach x

14 December 2012

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

My Father is a NIGHTMARE

14 December 2012, 9:22

Sorry I didn't get round to calling you last night. Dinner with my dad dragged on a little longer than I had originally anticipated. By approximately FOUR hours. Unfortunately I had also convinced Toby to come along with me, on the express assurance that we'd be home in time for Pat Hardy's Survival. He is currently not talking to me. Not only did he miss his favourite TV programme, he forgot to Sky Plus it. And he can't even find it on repeat or on demand (despite trawling through Sky for a full 20 minutes). I told him it wasn't my fault that his favourite programme is so excruciatingly boring that not even the broadcaster can be bothered to show it twice, but that didn't go down very well. He sulked until we went to bed and refused to get up this morning to make me a cup of tea before work. Even though I personally fail to see what is so exhilarating about watching a man who tells you the same thing each episode (i.e. what twig is edible in that particular terrain and how to make a fire with a plant that resembles fluff) I'm going to see if I can buy the series on DVD on my way home tonight. That will hopefully get me back in the good books.

Anyway, back to the night chez mon papa. Most of the evening was pretty uneventful (which is not altogether surprising, considering that my father rarely does anything exciting in the breaks between our get-togethers). As usual, he'd fashioned something out of mince for dinner. I use the word "mince" in the loosest sense of the word. He really just chops up leftovers into pieces that are almost too small for the naked eye to see and mixes them with gravy and any other random vegetables that happens to be festering in his fridge at the time. I still shudder at the memory of the mince with prunes, orange rind and lentils he did once - unfortunately that was just after mum left, so I felt compelled to finish it without saying anything. Toby nearly left me after that culinary disaster. He vomited as soon as he got home and still can't look at a prune without retching.

So we finished off our mince monstrosity, after which I made the fatal error of asking my dad whether he had enjoyed his trip to London that day. Two hours later, my dad hadn't even gotten as far as the afternoon (and Toby and I hadn't uttered a single syllable). He began with the joys of travelling with an OAP freedom pass (incidentally, did you know that the over 65s travel FOR FREE on the tube?!) which led neatly on (somehow) to the topic of Boris Johnson as Mayor of London (he preferred Ken) and the 2012 London Olympics (a waste of time and effort apparently). He then moved briefly on to the congestion charge (which he is against) and the current level of the river Thames (worryingly high). This then led to a discussion on global warming (which is the one topic that Toby feels compelled to speak about, and so there followed a heated debate about iceberg depletion in Alaska). Finally, I dragged him back to the subject at hand (he went to see the musical Wicked) and this somehow metamorphosed into a monologue on atheist belief in Victorian times (God knows how we got there). By 11pm, both Toby and I had ceased all efforts at intervening in the conversation, which left my dad free to ruminate extensively on such varied topics as the Rolling Stones, the eurozone sovereign debt crisis and the winter flu jab (I could explain the links between these subjects but it would simply take me too long).

However, just when I thought we would still be sitting at my dad's dining table in a decade's time, I happened to ask him whether he had spoken to his next-door neighbour. For the first time since 1999 (when I told my dad that I'd crashed his car into a tree) he fell silent! To make matters even more astounding, I'm pretty sure he blushed. I was just about to press him further, but Toby seized the rare opportunity that follows one of my dad's silences and announced that it was time for us to go home.

So in short, either:

  1. My dad has done something embarrassing in front of the lady who lives next door (based on his last efforts at conversation, not improbable); or

  2. My dad fancies her!

I would probably have teetered towards option 1, but I happened to look in the fridge on my way out. (Every time I go for dinner at my dad's, I check the fridge so that I can throw out any unidentifiable foodstuffs that have reached their best before date). On this occasion, I happened to notice a small Tupperware pot of samosas on the middle shelf! Upon further investigation, I discovered that they appeared to be homemade and still fresh. This has led me to believe that not only has my dad managed to have a civilised conversation with the lady next-door but that he might also have struck up a friendship with her!

I haven't mentioned anything to him but I am going to monitor the situation closely.

What was it you wanted to tell me yesterday by the way? I am intrigued!

And the reason I don't let you call my office anymore is because the last time you did, you phoned nine times in one day! And you pretended to be a client!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: My Father is a NIGHTMARE

14 December 2012, 12:48

You're such an exaggerator! It wasn't nine times!! And I only pretended to be a client because that stupid PA of yours kept telling me you were unavailable.

I learnt a long time ago there's no point in letting your parents get to you. I spent ages trying to wean mum off the home shopping channel, but I've now realised that giving up and saying nothing is sooo much fucking easier!

Ooh, so Mr Butterfield might be shagging his next-door neighbour!! Good on him! Have you spoken to this woman yet? I think you should at least find out her name. She might be your future step-mother! Let's hope she's a bit nicer than that Vladamir Putin lookalike your mum's with. ;.)

Btw, since you didn't ring me last night, I went ahead and organised Saturday night by myself. Plan is...come over to mine at 6 to get ready. We can have some bubbly beforehand (which I expect you to bring, unless you're happy with the fake stuff) and then we can catch the tube into town. We're then meeting Spencer and Alex at 9 at some random bar in Mayfair. Don't worry, I've written the name down somewhere! Alex hasn't booked a table but apparently he doesn't have to. Then I guess we'll see where the night takes us. Does that sound okay?

The big news from yesterday is that Linda found her biscuit tin! Turns out that Donald had taken it and was using it as a pencil case. The theft would probably have gone undetected had Linda not gone down to the post room to have a go at Donald for the late delivery of her A5 envelopes. Fortunately, all has been forgiven. Apparently Donald doesn't check his email (he thinks it's monitored by the Government) and so he missed Linda's frantic alerts. So happiness has been restored to our office. For now...

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Saturday Night

14 December 2012, 19:22

I am so pleased to hear about the safe return of the biscuit tin. I almost halted my conference call with possibly the most infuriating Portuguese lawyer in the world just so that I could share in the atmosphere of euphoria which must currently be circulating around your office. Unfortunately I couldn't because Ronaldo (yes, that really is his name) was in the process of telling me that my client couldn't take a chattel mortgage over his client's collection of rare scriptures, because they were held in Portugal, and therefore Portuguese law would govern any charge. I would love to tell you the reaction that this caused, but unfortunately to carry on any further would put you to sleep and give me a nervous breakdown for the second time in one day. I then went to ask Charles what I should do, and he informed me (with the patronising air that only a partner can have) that unless the scriptures were printed on granite, he knew of no reason why they could not be sent to England and housed in a vault here, simultaneously with the charge being taken. So I was also made to feel like a complete prat. Brilliant.

I personally think your mum's home shopping addiction has its advantages. I particularly appreciated the miniature zen garden (complete with small shovel) which she gave me for Christmas last year. I'm a little less sure about the tree trunk vase she got you. It does take up rather a lot of space in your living room.

Did I tell you that I got a card from mum? It appears that she's still with John and his giant collection of beige chinos. She suggested that I give her a call to arrange a time to meet up, but I don't think I can stomach it. For a start, I know my dad is still gutted she left and I just can't bring myself to forgive her for the way she did it. Just the thought of my poor dad coming home to a note stuck on the fridge informing him that his wife of 24 years had run off with her boss still makes me want to cry. Partly because it's such a bloody cliché. I still can't believe I haven't been contacted by Woman's Weekly. And as much as I can sometimes sympathise with what my dad must have put her through (his inability to say a complete sentence without pausing for several seconds like a character in a Shakespearean tragedy would have pushed me over the edge long ago) surely anyone with an ounce of compassion would have waited to tell him in person? Toby thinks I should make up with her, but I disagree. She has to understand that you can't break someone's heart without suffering the repercussions.

Do you think I'm making the right decision or am I going over the top? You never wanted to see your dad after he left, did you?

As for Saturday night, that sounds fine. I will obviously bring the bubbly – I refuse to drink that rancid stuff you bought last time - it had enough carbon dioxide in it to put a small rodent to sleep. I will be at yours promptly at 6pm. You'll be pleased to know that for once I haven't bought a new outfit. Alex Robertson doesn't deserve it. Besides, I've gone over my credit card limit.

Also, I can't believe I still haven't asked you, but what are you doing for New Year? Toby and I have decided to be civilised this year and have a dinner party. Do you and Spencer fancy coming? It'll just be us and a few of Toby's friends from work (all married couples, I'm afraid, but don't let that put you off). You don't have to come obviously, but I need to know soon in terms of numbers because Toby and I are off on that Norwegian cruise over Christmas. Have a think about it and let me know on Saturday.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Saturday Night

14 December 2012, 19:48

Completely understand about your mum. Maybe give it a couple of months and see how you feel then? Personally, I don't give a shit that I don't see dad anymore, but that's completely different. He left so long ago that I don't even remember what he looks like. And he's made zero effort to see me!

As for NYE, my diary is clear at the mo. Let's chat more about it on Saturday and then I can ask Spencer at the same time. Unfortunately I have a feeling that I might have to make the difficult decision between a dinner party at yours and Spurs' annual NY bash at the Mayfair Hotel.... :.)

As for my outfit on Saturday, I shall be wearing whatever outfit I can find which has not been worn in Spencer's presence within the last two months. I was originally planning on buying a stunning dress I saw in Topshop, but I've just had a reminder for Aristotle's insurance. Sometimes I really wish someone had told me that BUYING a horse was actually the cheap part! If I'd known beforehand how much I was going to have to spend on the little fucker, I might not have bothered. Not that I could ever sell him now. He might throw me off every week, but he still treats me better than Spencer!

Btw, I'm going to be riding all day tomorrow and so I might not get time to call you before you arrive. If not, I'll just see you at 6. Remember I'm in Flat 7! The bloke downstairs is starting to get pissed off with you ringing his doorbell every time you come over.

Really looking forward to it – it's been ages since we've had a night out together!

Text Messages

15 December 2012

Isla, 23:35

This place is amzing!

Rachel, 23:37

Wait til the fruit platter arrives \- u'll love it.

Isla, 23:45

Get Alex to order Kristal.

Isla, 00:06

I LOVE CHAMPAGNE!!!! Where can we dance?

Rachel, 00:08

On the tables. No dance floor in VIP. Alex cn't leave or he'll get mobbed.

Isla, 00:09

Who's the big guy?

Rachel, 00:10

Clive. Bodyguard. Ex-SAS.

Isla, 00:13

Going to ask if he can kill me with one finger.

Rachel, 00:17

Well?

Isla, 00:18

Yes he can.

Rachel, 00:32

Just got Alex to order more Kristal. Can hrdly see.

Rachel, 00:45

Luv this song!

Rachel, 01:02

Arghh!! Look behind you.

Isla, 01:03

Fick – Isla D! I'm goin 2 say hi.

Rachel, 01:08

What did she say?

Isla, 01:09

No idea! Hate that girl.

Rachel, 02:13

You and Alex have ben talkin for ages! Wot about? I can''t seee to wrie this

Isla, 03:15

I think I neeed to go hme

16 December 2012

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Last Night

16 December 2012, 14:48

Afternoon! How are you feeling?

Toby is on the phone to the travel agent and I can't find my mobile anywhere so thought I'd email you quickly.

I had such a good night last night! As much as I hesitate to admit it, Spencer and Alex were fun to go out with. I'm still undecided about whether I like Alex as a person though. There's no denying he's a very good-looking guy, and pretty charming, but I'm not sure how genuine he is. I think he might be the sort of guy who kisses with his eyes open.

I can't believe how good Amuse Bouche was. I've never been in the VIP of a club before (well, apart from that broom closet which I hired for my birthday, which the manager attempted to pass off as a VIP). The private toilets were divine. I could have sat in them all evening.

Was Isla Deveau there last night or did I dream that?

Were you there when Alex offered to take us out for drinks again on Thursday? Are you free to go? I don't normally like going out midweek, but it's two days before I go away on this cruise and so for once I think I can stomach a mid-week hangover. And it is nearly Christmas after all!

Hope you're not feeling too rough. I was a bit worried about you. Do you remember getting your heel stuck in the drain cover outside the club?

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Last Night

16 December 2012, 16:48

Hello! Of course I fucking remember – my shoe has no heel!!

Hmm...do I feel rough?! Well I wouldn't be feeling quite so rough had I not had to get up at 8 to feed my mule of a horse! I should have paid the yard to do it but I completely forgot and so at 8.30 this morning whilst you were probably fast asleep, I was sweeping shit out of Aristotle's stable. Not fun. I almost vommed into the wheelbarrow.

AGREED - great night last night! Spencer behaved himself as well. Apart from when I caught him checking out that blond tart in the ridiculous miniskirt. But it's all a bit patchy after 1am. I remember dancing on the table with Spencer whilst you and Alex were deep in conversation. What were you talking about? You seemed very cosy!!

Yes, I think I can come out on Thursday. But only for a couple of drinks - some of us have to work the next day.

I'm going to go to bed now and don't plan to wake up again until tomorrow morning!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Re: Saturday Night

16 December 2012, 18:48

I don't think I was talking to Alex about anything in particular. Most of what I said had to be repeated ten times because the music was so loud!

Oh, and it appears I left my mobile in the bloody toilet at the club last night. I knew I shouldn't have made myself quite so comfortable in there. On the plus side, they're going to courier it back to me first thing tomorrow. As soon as I mentioned that I was there with Alex Robertson, they couldn't have been more helpful!

I'll catch up with you tomorrow anyway. I'm just emailing you because I'm bored. Toby has been on the phone ALL day today.

Amongst other things, our tickets haven't arrived and Toby is having an absolute fit. We're not leaving until the 22nd, but you know what he's like. He's already put together a folder of everything we need to take with us - not just a list, a FOLDER. Apparently, this is essential because there is so much that we need to pack (did I tell you he's working whilst we are out there and so he needs to take all his kit)? Anyway, this folder is more in-depth than my GCSE geography field trip project! Toby was just in the process of making the finishing touches to it (i.e. adding the coloured sub-dividers that I stole from work) when he realised that we hadn't been sent our cruise tickets. Well, anyone would think he'd just lost a winning lottery ticket. I can hear him shouting at the travel agent now. I know I should be embarrassed but he is unbelievably cute when he's angry...

After we sort out the problem with the tickets, he wants to start packing. You might remember from Munich that Toby doesn't pack like a normal person (i.e. throw everything in a suitcase and sit on it until it shuts). First of all, he gets everything out on the bed in the order in which it is to be packed. He then starts a two-hour packing regime, folding each item carefully to ensure minimum creasing. If, once packed, there is any suggestion of the case being unable to shut without resistance, he takes everything out and removes anything "non-vital" from the pile. This process is usually repeated several times until the suitcase shuts without unnecessary human intervention. By now, Toby will have removed the majority of my toiletries, underwear and other essentials, which normally results in me throwing a tantrum and demanding that we take a second suitcase. Toby refuses, citing unnecessary increase of carbon footprint. I complain long enough for Toby to get in a grump, take out most of his clothes (of which there aren't many) and repack with all my stuff. Unfortunately tonight I feel too knackered to go through the rigmarole. I'll tell Toby to take out anything he doesn't think is necessary. We're only going to Norway for Christ's sake. How much clothing am I likely to need on a cruise ship?

Speak tomorrow.

Isla xx

17 December 2012

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Monday morning blues

17 December 2012, 7:48

Rach,

Am I right in saying that Christmas, for the majority of the world's population, is a time to let your hair down? I'm pretty sure that for your average working Joe (or Josephine) this particular holiday season equates to long, boozy lunch breaks, early finish times to do your Christmas shopping, an evaporation of workload and at least one opportunity to embarrass yourself at your work Christmas party. Yes? Well. Let me introduce you to Christmas at Barker Rutter Smith LLP, "London's premier City law firm".

  1. We do not have a single Christmas decoration in our building. Well, in order to be completely precise in that statement, I should probably carve out two things: 1) the magnificent Norwegian spruce in our lobby (complete with Swarovski crystal cherub at its peak) which is only there to impress our clients; and 2) the random sprig of gold tinsel which one of our more determined PAs has hung over her desk in protest at the lack of Christmas cheer.

  2. I have worked 187 hours in the month of December (which incidentally still has 14 days left to run). This means that, taking into account the fact that I'm going away for Christmas and New Year, I have recorded almost double my target hours for the month.

  3. Our annual Christmas lunch is supposed to take place tomorrow afternoon. It's booked for 2pm and out of a team of 23 people, 11 have already pulled out. An imaginative array of excuses have been given, but work pressures are undoubtedly the underlying cause. The partners in charge of the 11's workload could quite easily release them from their tasks and tell the client that, with it being Christmas and all, we aren't going to be able to respond to our emails for a couple of hours. The thought that they might actually do this, however, is laughable. Heaven forbid someone tell a client that whilst they are out getting pissed in London's finest eateries, their lawyers are attempting to do the same thing. Especially when they are paying us an average of £350 per hour to be at their beck and call. The fact that it is Christ's birthday next week is about as relevant to them as a free portion of fish and chips would be to Victoria Beckham.

  4. Not a single lawyer in my team (apart from Ashok, one of the partners) has a Christmas card on his desk. We are not only too busy to send them, but we are also too busy to open any that we might receive. The only reason that Ashok has any on his desk is because he gets his PA to open them for him (and display them in size order). Besides, every client I have has sent me an e-card this year – nothing like opening an email attachment to make you feel really festive (even if it does play Jingle Bells).

  5. Our annual Christmas bonus has been cancelled, because, apparently, we are about to enter yet another recession. This doesn't mean the firm can't afford to give them, rather the PR team has decided that it would look bad from a "reputational" point of view if the media were to find out that a City law firm (which makes most of its money representing the banking industry) was handing out anything other than redundancy cheques. Not that I was expecting much, but I kind of figured that working 2000 hours in one year would entitle me to something. Last year we got £200 of M&S vouchers as well, which at least meant that Christmas dinner was taken care of. This year? Nothing. And the real reason? I've been reliably informed (by Veronica) that the average equity partner's salary has gone down by approximately £250,000 this year. So obviously it makes sense to save a few pennies by robbing the actual workers of their well deserved pre-Christmas bonus cheque. Not that I'm bitter or anything. Also, in anticipation of not having to spend loads of money on a supermarket shop, I'd splashed out more than I normally would on Toby's Christmas present. Not only did I get him a pair of new binoculars, but he is also now the proud "father" of a Siberian tiger called Norm, who currently resides at London Zoo. I'd even arranged for Toby to go and feed him. Perhaps I should contact them and see if I can substitute for something more modest - a penguin perhaps??

Anyway, if they aren't going to give us our well-earned shopping spree at M&S, I, for one, intend to go to my Christmas lunch tomorrow. I've actually managed to escape a pre-Christmas completion for once and I am therefore at liberty to enjoy myself for the first time since, well, ever. My only hope is that the PA in charge of the Christmas lunch has booked somewhere decent. Somewhere with a Michelin star would be nice, but that's probably being a little bit too hopeful.

So, since Christmas is a time of goodwill to all mankind, I am going to go to this lunch in a positive frame of mind. The only problem is, apart from Sam, Sally and a couple of others, there is no one in my office who I actually enjoy socialising with.

x

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Your office sucks

17 December 2012, 9:35

For fucks sake Isles, stop putting up with so much crap! It's just like Sixth Form when you got roped into helping out the Year Sevens with extra Maths. You got no thanks for it. In fact, didn't Emily Watson lock you in a classroom for five hours?? Yet you persevered with those ungrateful little shits for a full two years!

I also don't understand why you don't leave if you hate it so much. I know you like the "challenge" and clearly the money is good, but you have NO LIFE!!! God, if I ever have to work past 5pm it makes me want to slit my wrists!

Anyway, what the hell are you doing at work before 8am?!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Your office sucks

17 December 2012, 11:53

I had to get in early for a call with our Singapore office. Only to find the deal's been put on hold until after Christmas. On the plus side, it means I might actually have a quiet day today. As long as I leave all the conference call appointments in my calendar and occasionally walk past the partners' offices looking purposeful and holding a couple of lever arch files, I might escape being given anything else.

You're so lucky getting to leave at 5 by the way. I wish I could.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Careful what you wish for!

17 December 2012, 12:05

Well since you're bored and you seem to think my job is so great, let me treat you to an insight into my typical working day. I think you'll soon realise the grass isn't always greener...

9:35 am - I arrive at work. I look at my post (which is minimal) and divide it into two piles. Pile 1 \- anything which might be of interest or which requires me to do something with it. Pile 2 - crap to be thrown into the bin.

9:45am – I throw pile 2 into the bin.

9:50am – I make myself a cup of tea, taking extra care to use one of the "communal" mugs. I once made the mistake of using Barbara's Robbie Williams mug in my first week and she's hated me ever since.

9:55am – I drink my cup of tea and eat my breakfast. Breakfast used to consist of a yummy bacon and cheese croissant from the nice cafe opposite our building until YOU kindly informed me of the average number of calories in it (490) and the cost of buying one every weekday for a year (£346). I now bring in porridge from home. Once I forgot to add extra milk and it felt like I was eating cement. It also doesn't help that the takeaway bowls which I bought to put it in (can't be arsed with the washing up) look and smell exactly like the throwaway sick bowls which they give you in hospital. In fact I think they might be the same ones - several people have given me weird looks since I started using them.

10:15am – I finish breakfast and turn on my computer for the first time. I don't have many emails. Our computer system is also ANCIENT and so Outlook normally crashes at least three times before it opens properly.

10:30am – I start work. To give you a small taster of an average day in the life of Rachel Ku, I spent part of yesterday designing flyers for our stall at the Annual Hygiene Conference in Milton Keynes. The rest of the day was spent trying to improve our website and explaining to my boss that the slogan "We will tap into your needs" is a big pile of wank.

1pm – I eat my lunch. This is the highlight of my day. I usually meet Ben and we grab lunch from somewhere in town.

2:05pm - Ben and I get back from lunch. I tend not to do too much in the afternoons because I can't get it out of my head that it's only three hours until home time. Sometimes I'll speak to potential customers who I've met at events. They're usually sleazy married men trying to crack on to me, but I sometimes manage to get a few genuine leads. Once I've established they're actually interested in buying something, I'll refer them to Ben. Most of the afternoon, if I'm brutally honest, is spent emailing Ben and taking the piss out of the other people in the office. He is honestly the ONLY normal person who works here. He's also a great source of advice when I'm having issues with Spencer. The fact he always tells me to "dump the twat" and I ignore him is irrelevant. I do at least listen to his advice, even though I don't actually follow it!

Anyway, back to my average day:

5:00pm – I go home.

How fucking dull!! And as for your rose tinted view of Christmas time in every other office in the country, you are 100% wrong. Although our office is decked out in enough Christmas decorations to set up a factory outlet store, none of them have been updated since about 1992.

Btw, I just re-read your previous email and I can't quite believe some of your team won't be allowed to go to your Christmas lunch. Is that even legal?!

Xx

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Careful what you wish for!

17 December 2011, 13:54

Am pretty sure it's legal, Rach. To be honest, as long as Sam, Sally and Beatrice can come, I don't really care. The rest of the lawyers in my team have more or less blended into one. And they also tend to fall into one of two categories: 1) they love their job and take great pleasure in shafting other members of the team (their mentality being that they've slogged their guts out for years, so why should they give anyone else an easier time of it than they had); or 2) they hate their jobs and take great pleasure in shafting other members of the team (their mentality being they want to kill themselves, so why not make everyone else's life miserable as well)?

I don't even care about the guy I share my office with! Not because he's horrible, but because he never talks to me (I have a suspicion he may be autistic, or at the very least have some kind of social disability). On the plus side, however, I manage to avoid doing any work with him because he specialises in interest rate hedging, which I'm glad to say, I (along with most of the world's population) know absolutely nothing about.

All of the PAs will also be coming to the lunch as well, which is good. Although our team is very much divided on the PA front between those who are absolute angels and those who don't seem to do anything at all (other than chat to each other, go on fag breaks every five seconds and buy/eat cake) they do have one thing in common: they know how to drink at parties. Especially when the booze is free!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Linda

17 December 2012, 15:59

Sorry for the delayed response – I am on tea-making duty today!

Weirdest thing just happened. I just picked up a call for Linda from a guy who introduced himself as her son, Stuart. It got transferred to me by mistake for some reason by Meerkat 1 – fucking useless tart. Anyway, Linda took the call and then five minutes later ran off to the toilets in tears!

Now this would be juicy gossip in itself, but I didn't even know Linda had a son called Stuart! And considering I know EVERYTHING there is to know about her husband (called Gerry, 53 years old, retired insurance broker, runs marathons, likes cats, owns a Morgan car, favourite dinner is sausage and mash with peas and proper gravy) as well as her eldest son and daughter, two grandchildren and second cousin twice removed, she's never mentioned a Stuart. Not once!

I know it's none of my business, but considering she tells us everything else there is to know about her family, I find it really weird that she's never even mentioned him before. What do you reckon? I'm thinking gay, drug addict or in prison!

Anyway, our office Christmas lunch is tomorrow as well. I will give you the full rundown afterwards, although I know STRAIGHT away that it won't be somewhere with a Michelin star. As far as Neil is concerned, Michelin is good for one thing and that's making tires. My only hope is that we don't go back to the carvery at our local pub again. It wouldn't have been so bad had we not been the last sitting. We ended up having to eat the congealed scraps at the bottom of the trays. Donald also caused a scene because the coffee was served in a mug rather than a cup and saucer. He didn't stop complaining until the waitress offered him extra brandy sauce for his Christmas pudding. He quietened down after that.

Enjoy your lunch!

Rach xx

18 December 2012

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Linda

18 December 2012, 12:16

Sorry for the delay – I got caught up with work stuff, despite my best efforts. Bloody Singaporeans came back to life at just after 4.30 yesterday.

This email has to be short and sweet I'm afraid - am off for my Christmas lunch now! Need to leave on time to try to grab a seat next to Veronica (the PAs always leave early to take advantage of the free bar tab). I haven't had time to Google the restaurant but apparently it's only five minutes from work.

That is very juicy gossip about Linda. I wonder what her story is. We'll have to discuss another time!

I'll probably be offline now for the rest of the day so I'll email you tomorrow.

Don't forget about Thursday either! I hope we don't get photographed by any paparazzi. I can't imagine anything worse than looking in a newsagent's window one day and being on the front page. I really don't understand why anyone would want to be famous.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Have fun!!!!

18 December 2012, 12:28

Enjoy yourself! We're off soon as well. Xx

Text Messages

18 December 2012

Isla, 15:01

Holy crap, the Godfather is singing!!!

Rachel, 14:37

WTF?

Isla, 18:03

Best Christmas party EVER.

Rachel, 19:08

Glad you are having a good time. I am at home in my pjs!

Isla, 00:09

Why do club loos never have any toidle roll??

Isla, 00:13

Lollipops!!!!!!!!

Rachel, 00:17

Stop fucking texting me! You are making no sense and I am trying to sleep!

Isla, 00:18

Am nurt.

Rachel, **00:18**

WTF?

Isla, 02:45

Rach, I thnk th taxi driver is goidn to kill me

19 December 2012

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Dying

19 December 2012,10:48

Dear Lord. I can't recall the last time I was this hungover at work. My computer is on, but I've just been staring at the screen for the last hour. Thank God, I don't have anything urgent to do today. My hands are shaking, my stomach is convulsing and there is a strong possibility I may end up being sick in my bin.

I still haven't managed to eat anything – I'm hoping that a bacon sarnie from the café on the corner will sort me out, but I can't muster the energy to move. I initially phoned Monty's to ask if they would considering delivering to reception but, despite my protestations that I was one of their most valued customers, they refused point blank unless I ordered a minimum of 20 sandwiches! I suppose I could have given 19 of them away to my team, but such a sudden bout of generosity would have made everyone suspicious that I was about to announce that I was either pregnant or leaving, so I got a coffee from the fifth floor instead.

So...this is how most people feel at work during the Christmas period! Disastrously hungover, mildly frowsy (I didn't have time to shower this morning) and with a slight sense of panic that tends to accompany a good dose of memory loss. Yuk.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Ding Dong Merrily on High

19 December 2012: 10:59

Isla

First of all, check your phone. Thanks to you I got hardly any sleep last night.

Second of all, I'm impressed!! In the five years since you've been at that place, I don't think I've ever heard you talk about a proper night out with your work mates! Yay you!!

My Christmas lunch was a bit shit TBH. Can you believe it - I only had two glasses of wine! I don't think I've ever gone out for a boozy lunch and felt quite so sober afterwards!

Why do you feel so ropey? Did you go to a Michelin starred restaurant and quaff champagne all afternoon?! How many of you ended up going?

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Ding Dong Merrily on High

19 December 2012, 11:02

Quite miraculously, almost our whole team!

Oh, and we also never made it to a Michelin starred restaurant. Lorraine had taken our budget of thousands and booked...wait for it...a Chinese karaoke restaurant!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

No way!

19 December 2012, 11:06

You're fucking kidding me!! What it any good?!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: No way!

19 December 2012, 11:07

The first half hour or so was DIRE. Just picture this: eight PAs at one end of the table, raucously pouring glasses of wine by the bucket load, pulling crackers, putting on party hats and generally behaving in a typically festive manner. Then imagine 15 lawyers down the other end of the table, literally saying nothing. At one point I did wonder whether we were going to go through the whole meal without saying anything at all!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Oh dear

19 December 2012, 11:10

Is that why you ended up getting shitfaced then?!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Oh dear

19 December 2012, 11:16

Pretty much! Basically the service was absolutely appalling and we weren't given anything to eat for ages. Fortunately Lorraine had had the good sense to pre-order the wine, and so most of us had guzzled at least half a bottle before the prawn crackers had even arrived.

On the plus side, this meant that by the time the wonton soup arrived, we were actually talking to each other. Even Ashok was looking relaxed and had put his blackberry away. Charles started to make a few bad jokes about our waitress. Russell loosened his tie. Even the straight-laced Michelle (one of the senior associates) who is so prim that I'm pretty sure she goes home to 1952 every evening, attempted a smile.

Fast forward to the arrival of the crispy duck, and the party was in full swing. All blackberries had been forgotten for the simple reason that no one could work out whose was whose. People were consuming a variety of white, red and rosé wine from an assortment of glasses. Andrew (the trainee) was flirting outrageously with Penny, one of the other solicitors in the team – he even asked her if she'd like to sample his chicken balls! Sam and I were giggling like school children because Russell was trying to order more wine from a waitress who clearly couldn't understand his ridiculous public school accent and kept telling him to talk properly. But the pinnacle of the evening coincided with the arrival of the banana fritters, when Charles stood up and declared that he was going to make a speech.

The whole team fell silent. I should probably explain that, for Charles, this was completely unprecedented. Put it this way, he may be global head of our finance team, but he's not known for his people skills. Anyway, for some reason, when Charles spoke, everyone else in the restaurant immediately stopped talking as well. Possibly because he had asked the waitress for a microphone, which meant that no one had a choice other than to listen to him, or possibly because the average diner was keen to know what this 60-year old gentlemen, complete with Rolex and a Saville Row suit, was doing in an all-you-can-eat Chinese restaurant.

His speech went something like this:

"I would firstly like to thank Lorraine for organising such an unusual Christmas lunch for the team. Whilst I was initially a little bemused, I now think that she made an excellent choice. Rather than bore you all with a speech about how well the team has done this year, I feel it could be summed up much better in an altogether alternative format."

Then, as if by magic, music started playing and (I kid you not) Charles Urmitage, head of the banking team and one of the highest paid partners at BRS, started to sing "I wish it could be Christmas every day".

Now I can't believe I'm saying this (and my memory of it may be slightly warped from all the alcohol consumed) but he was absolutely brilliant! By the time he got to the chorus, everyone in the restaurant was cheering. By the second chorus, we were all singing along. And at the end of the song, Charles got a standing ovation! It was, without a doubt, the best karaoke performance ever.

After Charles' performance, everyone was jostling for the microphone. Even I took leave of my senses and agreed to do a duet with Russell. I must confess, his choice of song (Jason and Kylie's _Especially for You_ ) did make me feel a little bit uncomfortable, especially because he kept looking at me in a suggestive manner throughout the song. I'm sure he would have claimed he was just acting the part, but I know full well he was considering whether or not I was an eligible candidate for a one-night stand.

Realised I've been waffling on for ages. I should probably just summarise and conclude that the rest of the night continued in a similar vein. I am also desperate for the loo so I'll quickly sign off to let you digest!

X

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Carry on!

19 December 2012, 11:17

Ah, now I understand the Godfather text!

And you can't end the story just as it was getting interesting! I want to hear what happened afterwards! Surely you didn't have to go back to the office?

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Carry on!

19 December 2012,11:29

No, thank God. After we had pretty much exhausted the restaurant's karaoke repertoire and the bill had been paid, there was a moment of sudden drunken despondency when we realised that we might be expected to go back to work. Fortunately Lorraine had one final trick up her sleeve and admitted that she'd booked a table at Regenersis in Hoxton. Her exact words were she'd "made quite a big saving on the lunch" and "thought we could put the rest of the money behind the bar."

It was then that we realised that Lorraine's choice of restaurant had been 100% deliberate. I subsequently found out from Veronica that the bill for the meal itself had been less than a grand, leaving thousands of pounds to be spent purely on alcohol! All the juniors looked at Lorraine in complete adoration and held their breath, waiting for Charles to speak.

He then uttered the following immortal words:

"Well I suppose it would be wrong of me to ask my team to go back to work before we've spent the budget. That would be very ungenerous of me, given how hard everyone has worked this year. So I suggest that, unless anyone has got a completion or other important matter to go back to, that we all continue to enjoy ourselves a bit longer."

And that is the precise moment, with one and a half bottles of wine consumed, that my memory goes completely blank...

As hard as I have tried to remember, not a single flicker of recollection has been sparked in my brain since I got up this morning. I'm pretty sure that this has never happened to me before. I usually pride myself on my ability to remember drunken nights out, but on this occasion, there's a complete and utter void. I texted Toby to ask him what time I got in and he told me that it was after 3am! Which means that there are quite a few hours of my life unaccounted for. As much as I really don't want to do this, I am going to have to ask someone at work what happened. I can't bear the thought of not knowing. I just hope to God that I didn't do anything too awful. Although I suppose the theory goes that if you don't remember, it never really happened, correct?

Xx

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Shame on you!

19 December 2012, 12:18

I can't believe you've got memory loss. That's so unlike you!! Try and find out what happened!!!

Ps. I don't suppose you have any lollipop wrappers in your bag, do you?

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Shame on you!

19 December 2012, 12:23

I've just found three lollipop wrappers – how did you know?? I'll see what else I can find out.

Tell me about your lunch. I need something to concentrate on to take the pain away...

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Rachel's Christmas Lunch

19 December 2012, 12:39

Once upon a time, a group of loyal subjects from the land of Hermitage, clamber onto a minibus like a group of hyperactive schoolchildren. Rachel, the heroine of the story, who would be beautiful were it not for her short stature and fat thighs, grabs a seat near the back. Three evil triplets, hereafter known as the Meerkats (boo, hiss) sit behind her. As soon as they sit down, a young man called Ben, who would be handsome were it not for the fact that he is a bit too nice and his nose a tad large, gets on the bus as well. The evil Meerkats beckon excitedly and indicate that he should sit with them. Rachel secretly hopes that Ben will come and sit with her, but, unlike the Meerkats, she is a modest young maid and does not want to appear like a desperate slag. Ben, who is clearly a bit of a boy slut in disguise, walks past and sits next to the evilest Meerkat of them all. Meanwhile, a big smelly ogre called Dave gets on the minibus and bypasses all the empty seats to come and sit next to Rachel! Rachel feels very upset that she has to sit next to an ogre, but has the good manners to say nothing. However, she has never felt so unpopular – not since her mum made her a bat costume out of a black umbrella for a Halloween party during her last year at junior school and all the other girls (who were dressed as witches) laughed at her and pulled off her bat wings in the girls' toilets.

Nevertheless, Rachel is the sort of girl to see the best of a bad situation, and consoles herself by thinking that at least she is going somewhere nice to eat.

Suddenly, without warning, the minibus stops at the bank of the river Thames. Everyone gets off and Neil, the kindly (but slightly pervy) king, tells his subjects to wait by the bank. The group all look a little confused until they hear a noise which sounds a bit like a fog horn going off in the distance. It is then that Rachel realises that she is not going to a banquet at a riverside palace after all. She is, in fact, about to have Christmas lunch on a (very small) canal boat.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

You're joking?

19 December 2012,12:46

You had your Christmas lunch on a canal boat?!

I've just spoken to Lorraine about yesterday's lunch. She went home at about 6.30 but has told me the following:

  1. I had a long conversation with Michelle about her divorce (the poor woman had been left by her husband for working too hard) and declared that no man was good enough for her. Lorraine can't remember what else I said, but apparently we were hugging by the end of it and I'd promised to go and see a therapist with her.

  2. I "drooled" over the pictures of Gerard on Sam's phone. How uncouth.

  3. I told Sally how much I loved her hair at least 10 times.

  4. I informed Ashok that he was the cleverest man I had ever met and that if he ever needed me to help him with a research project in the future, I would be more than happy to assist.

  5. I told everyone in earshot about my night out with Alex Robertson. I get the impression I may have exaggerated the story a tiny bit. Lorraine said I told them that Alex had asked me to sleep with him but that I had had no choice but to turn him down. All the girls were really jealous though. All of them that is, apart from Beatrice, who Lorraine said just rolled her eyes and declared that she didn't go to Amuse Bouche anymore because it's overrun with footballers! Incidentally, I now recall her telling me that Isla Deveau is cheating on her current model boyfriend with the lead singer of that awful punk band. I can never remember their name, but they always wear red and black. Prying Eyes, is it?

I'm going to have to find someone else to tell me the rest of what I got up to.

Please carry on with your story! I'm enjoying it!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: You're Joking?

19 December 2012, 13:15

Isles, you are a nightmare!! And isn't Ashok the same partner you did that deal with that meant you didn't see Toby for two weeks?! I only remember because you said Tubs grew a beard as a symbol of your neglect. Poor Tubs – I do feel sorry for him sometimes.

Anyway, on with my story!

So, the canal boat arrives. Rachel tries to stay positive about the situation. Perhaps the king has employed an amazing chef to cook for his humble subjects. Or perhaps, despite its rather shabby looking exterior, the boat is magic and actually houses a restaurant of unbelievable quality and finesse. With this in mind, and with the phrase "don't judge on first appearances" repeating like a stuck record inside her brain, Rachel gingerly climbs on board (which is no mean feat, given that she is wearing five inch heels) and squeezes into the tiny berth. Although Rachel tries to manoeuvre herself so as to sit next to the almost-handsome Ben, the evil Meerkats see her plan and use magic chants to steer Ben towards them. Rachel then realises that they have left her with the seating plan from hell - wedged between Donald the troll and Linda the kind, but weighty, fairy godmother. Opposite her is Dave the Ogre, with King Neil and evil Meerkat Two sat either side of him. So far, so not so good, she realises.

Before Rachel gets a chance to speak, Linda the fairy godmother starts complaining about the cold winds blowing in from across the moors (very Wuthering Heights – not sure how this links in with the fact we were on the Thames, but what the hell). However, even though it is cold enough to see your breath, since Rachel is sandwiched between a large fairy and an even larger troll, she, by contrast, is feeling quite toasty. She also can't take her jacket off because she doesn't have the arm room to shrug it off. So poor Rachel then begins to sweat and realises that her satin gown is undoubtedly going to show up sweat marks. This means that she has to keep her jacket on for the whole of the meal. Unfortunately King Neil then asks for the heating to be turned up to the max. As a result, the room eventually steams up with so much condensation that a small droplet plops into Donald the troll's drink. Rachel thinks she might pass out.

After a short while, a small dwarf comes in to take the food order (NB: it wasn't actually a dwarf, but I wanted to keep with the theme). It is not possible to work out whether or not the dwarf is a man or a woman. He/she has a nametag which informs Rachel that his/her name is "Sam" but this gives no further clue as to gender and poor Rachel is very confused (btw, this bit is true).

Sam the genderless dwarf gives the subjects their menus and asks them if they want red or white wine with their meal. There doesn't appear to be any other choice on offer and so Rachel plumps for red. She is immediately thankful when the wine arrives – the white is the colour of dehydrated urine and really doesn't smell much better.

After the wine is poured (and is promptly taken away again!) Sam asks the loyal subjects what they want to eat. The choices are:

Starters

Cream of Tomato Soup

Prawn Cocktail

Chilled Fruit Juice

Main

Christmas Lunch with all the Trimmings

Nut Loaf with all the Trimmings (please note that this course does not contain meat but does contain nuts)

Poached Salmon with new potatoes and spring vegetables

Pudding

Christmas Pudding with Brandy Cream

Cheese and Biscuits

Fruit Cocktail

Again, Rachel is confused. She did not realise that chilled fruit juice was, or could ever feasibly be, a starter. She is intrigued, however, and encourages Linda the fairy godmother (who is on a diet) to try it. Rachel, however, is starving and can't be bothered to worry about her fat thighs, so chooses the prawn cocktail, followed by Christmas Lunch and cheese and biscuits.

After the loyal subjects give their order to Sam the genderless dwarf, they begin to converse. Donald the troll starts complaining that he doesn't like wine "or anything else that's French" and tells King Neil that it's discriminatory not to serve at least one kind of lager or ale. King Neil smiles benignly and tells him that there is a bar at the other end of the boat. Donald is out of his chair quicker than Rachel ever believed a troll could move but, just as he is half-way there, King Neil shouts out to him that he will need his wallet. Donald promptly returns to his seat and declares that perhaps wine isn't so bad after all.

As if by magic, the starters arrive. When Rachel sees Linda's chilled juice she starts to giggle uncontrollably, much to Sam the genderless dwarf's bemusement. The chilled juice has not only been served in a champagne glass, but the champagne glass has been placed on a plate with a doyley!

Linda the fairy godmother is not too impressed with her starter and wants to wave her magic wand to turn it into something else, but Rachel reminds her that it leaves plenty of room for the Christmas pudding that she's ordered for dessert. Linda begrudgingly agrees not to use magic on this occasion and downs the juice in one impressive gulp.

After the starters are cleared, Sam the dwarf serves the main course. Rachel's Christmas dinner is pretty good, and for this she is grateful. The evil Meerkats obviously all opt for the healthier salmon option and Rachel notices with glee that they keep stealing glances at her mountain of food with barely concealed resentment.

The meal eventually comes to an end and after thanking Sam for his/her efforts, the loyal subjects get up as if to leave. However, King Neil then proudly announces that the final part of their "treat" is to sail a little further down the river, after which their minibus will pick them up and take them back to the land of Hermitage. So the loyal subjects go outside and sit on the deck of the boat. It is pretty cramped (clearly only designed for a handful of people) but it is freezing and so Rachel is glad of the human warmth. She can't help but notice that Ben appears to be avoiding her and spends the whole time talking to evil Meerkat 3, otherwise known as Melissa. Rachel tries valiantly to engage Dave the ogre in conversation, but they soon realise that a humble maid and an ogre only have so much to talk about. They soon fall silent and look at the passing scenery instead.

Suddenly, without warning, the boat's engine makes a very strange noise and then cuts out. The loyal subjects all look at each other, assuming that eventually it will just kick back in and they'll carry on their merry way. Unfortunately Sam the genderless dwarf emerges a few moments later, looking sheepish.

"I'm afraid we've broken down," he/she says.

So, the poor loyal subjects have no choice but to walk back to the minibus. Although Linda the fairy godmother attempts to wave her magic wand and bring the bus straight to them, the boat has taken them on a scenic tour and the only way of getting back (apart from swimming) is to walk along the narrow path which runs alongside the bank. Considering that Rachel is wearing enormous heels, she does not enjoy the experience one bit. She briefly considers taking off her shoes because the pain is so bad, but she simply can't bear the thought of walking along barefoot like a cavewoman. She is a beautiful maid after all.

Eventually the loyal subjects make it back to the minibus and after they ensure that Linda's breathing has gone back to normal and that she is not about to go into cardiac arrest, they get back on board and come back to work.

THE END

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Hilarious

19 December 2012, 13:23

That sounds atrocious! Great story – it almost made me forget how awful I'm feeling!

It seems strange that Ben would be so funny with you. That's not like him. Did you have a fight? Is there something you haven't mentioned?

You'll be pleased to know that I've found out a bit more about my night out, having accosted the rest of the PAs.

Apparently, by the time we'd polished off the champagne at Regenersis, it was gone 6pm. Whilst under normal circumstances, most of the team would have slunk off home at this point, we were in such high spirits that we decided to move on to another bar. Veronica tells me it was Ashok that suggested we go to a club to dance. I can't believe this is true, but she is adamant.

Since we were already in Hoxton, someone came up with the bright idea of hitting one of the cheesier clubs up the road. Whilst on route to said club, we happened to chance upon a street vendor selling Christmas accessories and I am told I ordered Charles to buy something for every member of the team as a token of appreciation for all our hard work. Although I don't remember any of this, I did notice that there were a pair of reindeer antlers and a flashing Santa hat on my floor this morning, which would suggest that something of this nature did in fact happen.

The rest of the evening allegedly went as follows:

  1. We get into the club, and realise it is empty. We do not, however, let that detract from our fun; rather, we see it as an opportunity to take over the DJ booth. The DJ happens to be one of those overweight, silver-haired, miserable looking types who has clearly been "spinning the disks" since he was about 20 and is now reaching retirement age. If not, after what I'm told we put him through, there's no doubt he'll be considering retirement now. First of all, we demand that he play every single Christmas Number One that he has in his collection. Sam follows this up by pretending to have a tantrum on the dance floor when "DJ Dan the Man" admits that he doesn't have the Mr Blobby Song. Michelle then tells him that she is going to sue him for misrepresentation: apparently the flyer on the door promised "All the Great Christmas Hits and more" and so she claims that the lack of Mr Blobby means that we have been lured into the club on a false promise. Before DJ Dan the Man has a chance to defend himself, we launch into a heated debate about whether or not Mr Blobby actually constitutes a "Great Christmas Hit" in the first place.

  2. Our debate is soon forgotten when we notice Russell and Kiran (one of the trainees who, I should probably clarify, is female) gyrating together on a podium (this bit I do now recall)! In fact, we spent a long time this morning reminiscing about Russell's appalling dance moves. Veronica said today he looked exactly like a thunderbird: his arms appeared to be controlled by some crazed puppet master and he kept shunting his lower body towards Kiran in an erratic fashion, as if physically drawn to her like a magnet, but one whose magnetism continued to cut in and out. I do vaguely remember that Kiran had her eyes shut the entire time which, I'm told, prompted a dialogue as to whether this was down to the ecstasy of the song (Ace of Base, I Saw the Sign, so understandable) or the fact that she was hoping that if she shut her eyes for long enough, Russell would evaporate. Unfortunately for her, he didn't, and I'm guessing that because she was a trainee and didn't want to get into trouble, she simply resolved to grit her teeth and get on with it, no doubt hoping that the alcohol would simply wash away the trauma. Either that or she genuinely found Russell's mating dance erotic, which I find impossible to believe.

  3. At 9pm, the club starts to fill up with people. Sheila (another PA) said that one minute it was empty, and the next it was so busy that you couldn't move for drunken strangers jostling each other on the dance floor. It seems that it was around this time that the shots started. Never ever EVER sensible in my humble opinion and I refuse to accept that it was actually my idea. I did however have my first ever Jaiger-Bomb (I know, I'm such a late developer), which I initially thought was a terrible suggestion until I'd had the first one. Looking back through the memory fog, I do now have a vague recollection of chanting "Jaiger-Bomb...Jaiger Bomb..." with a crowd of complete strangers at the bar.

And that is as much as the PAs remember – I'll let you know if I find out anything else.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Further recollections!

19 December 2012, 13:52

Having spoken to a variety of sources, including Sam, Sally, Andrew and Kiran, it would appear the rest of the night went something like this:

10.30pm: I announce to the whole bar that it's my round and order approximately 15 shots of Sambuca. I brag that I'll be able to claim the £75 bar tab back on work expenses, failing to notice that Russell is standing right behind me. Fortunately, I'm told he saw the funny side and promised not to tell anyone if I bought one for him. I proceed to pay for 16 shots of Sambuca at a total cost of £80.

10.45pm: The DJ begins to play Mariah Carey's "All I want for Christmas is you". I climb up on the podium and serenade the crowd.

10.50pm: I fall off the podium. I see no reason to get up and dance on my bum on the floor for five minutes until Sam hauls me up.

11.05pm: I tell everyone within hearing distance that I haven't been to the toilet in five hours and that I should be added to the Guinness Book of World Records for the world's largest bladder. I then tell anyone who is still listening that my boyfriend has a tiny bladder and has to go to the toilet at least 20 times on a night out. I am encouraged to go to the toilet before I rupture something internally. I go into the Ladies but walk out in a strop, complaining about the length of the queue. I attempt to bust into the Gents' but am threatened by a bouncer. I tell him that I am a pre-op transsexual and that it is my constitutional right to go into the Gents' toilet. The bouncer threatens to throw me out. I go back to the Ladies'.

11.35pm: I emerge from the Ladies' toilet. No one can tell me what I was doing in there for half an hour but it appears that I gave all my cash to the toilet attendant in exchange for 25 lollipops. Hence the reason for my text!

12.45pm: I convince a random group of people that we should release an album of Christmas hits sung by drunk people in clubs. I get over-excited by the originality of the idea and proceed to write down everyone's telephone numbers on the back of my (numerous) drinks receipts. I promise to book a session at a recording studio at some point before Christmas and agree to phone everyone on the list to confirm the date, time and venue. I have since found several receipts evidencing this in my handbag.

12.45pm - 1.45 am: I alternate between dancing, going to the bar and handing out lollipops to random people.

2.00am: Dirty Dancing's "I've had the time of my life" is played. I convince Andrew, (who is over six foot) to do "the lift" with me. We execute our finale to thunderous applause, only for me to crash into the light fitting on the ceiling. I am uninjured but shout at Andrew for being "freakishly tall".

2.30am: Sam spots me wandering around the club in "a confused state". He orders me out of the club and into a taxi. Since there is no taxi outside, we have to walk towards the main road. I force Sam to give me a piggyback all the way because, I claim, I have an in-growing toenail that makes walking long distances impossible. Finally Sam manages to hail a taxi that will agree to take me home. He gives the taxi driver my address, then calls Toby on my phone and pre-warns him of my condition.

3.00am: I stumble into my house and pass out in the hallway. Toby carries me up to bed. I briefly wake up on the stairs and demand that Toby gets me some salt and vinegar hula hoops. Toby promises to do so and suggests that I wait for them in bed whilst he nips down to the kitchen to get some. I obviously pass out.

As you can well imagine, I AM MORTIFIED!!!! When I learnt all of this I actually considered handing in my resignation on the spot. Fortunately, I was convinced otherwise when Sam told me what happened after I left.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

What happened after?

19 December 2012, 14:00

Isles, you worry for too much! I've done far worse on drunken nights out.

And Tubs is such a sweetie pie. I'd have left you on the stairs.

So what happened after you left?!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: What happened after?

19 December 2012, 14:24

I know, Toby is lovely sometimes. He always looks after me when I'm drunk. He even took my make-up off. I must get him a present on my way home to say thank you.

In terms of what happened after I left, I'm told that Russell, who by that time was thoroughly inebriated, insisted that no one else in the team could go home. Instead he suggested that everyone went back to his hotel room in Bank for an "after-party". Just to explain why he had a hotel room, Russell actually lives in Surrey, so if he knows he's going to be out late, he books himself a hotel room (at the firm's expense). He claims it is more economical than getting a taxi and it enables him to get into work quicker the next day. Obviously most of the team have their suspicions as to Russell's ulterior motives.

Anyway, a number of people went back to the hotel room, including Sam, two of the trainees and Michelle, whereupon they proceeded to drink their way through the contents of Russell's mini bar. The party continued until dawn, with various members of the team passing out on the floor. Sam tells me that the last thing he remembers before falling asleep on the sofa is Russell convincing Michelle to sleep in his room "because the sofa is uncomfortable". The next thing he remembers is waking up at 9am to see Michelle sneaking out of Russell's room! It transpires Michelle and Russell had been flirting all night and that this had undoubtedly culminated in some totally inappropriate bedroom nooky!

After Michelle's departure, the rest of the stragglers groggily made their way downstairs with Russell, who had apparently not said a word since emerging from his room at about 10. He gets to the check-out desk and after handing over his key, the receptionist asks him:

"Sir, did you have anything from the minibar?"

To which Russell replies:

"Yes. I had everything from the minibar."

Russell was then presented with a minibar bill totalling £564!

I could have died laughing when Sam told me. And to further improve my day, Ashok has even agreed to let me expense my bar bill of £80! When I sheepishly went into his room to ask about it, his exact words were:

"Yes that's fine, Isla. It seems reasonable in the circumstances. Unlike some other expenses from last night, which I can assure you, will be coming out of a certain individual's own pocket."

So, I am going to get my money back for buying 16 shots of Sambuca for a bunch of complete strangers, whilst Russell has to fork out £564 for the contents of a minibar which he probably doesn't even remember emptying! What's more, any public humiliation that I might otherwise have suffered as a result of my drunken antics last night has now been overshadowed by the possibility that Russell and Michelle might have slept together!

Life is good again.

Speak later!

Isla xx

Ps. You still haven't told me whether anything happened between you and Ben.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Confession

19 December 2012, 15:56

Wow – crazy night!! It's amazing what you lawyers get up to when you let your hair down.

Okay, fine. There is something else I haven't told you.

I have a confession to make. It's a bit complicated so perhaps I'd better phone you.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Confession _19 December 2012_ , _16:23_

Am just about to do a runner out the office. Can you email me instead? Will be something fun to read on my way home...

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: Confession

19 December 2012, 16:59

That's probably easier anyway...I'm going to take a deep breath and pretend you're a priest and I'm in the confession box...

At the meal yesterday, Linda asks what I am up to for Christmas. I tell her that it will be like every other Christmas – just me and my nutty Malaysian mother. Linda immediately invites us both to hers for Christmas dinner. I panic. I don't want to offend her, but I also can't imagine anything worse. So, for some completely fucked up reason, I tell her that I can't, because my mum is a schizophrenic and probably wouldn't be able to cope with a new social situation. I am immediately HORRIFIED by what I've said, but before I can backtrack, Linda takes my hand and says, "Don't worry about it, my dear. We have that in my family too."

It is then that I realise she is talking about her son!! Honest to God Isles, I've never felt so bad about anything in my entire life. So I give her a quick hug. This is clearly NOT a good move, because then Linda starts to BAWL, at which point everyone at the table notices (it's difficult to ignore someone like Linda crying - she makes a shitload of noise) and they all start to ask her what the matter is. At this point, Linda, who has NEVER spoken about her son before, realises it's her Oprah Winfrey moment and begins to tell the whole fucking story of Stuart's life from start to finish. To give you a very quick summary of what she said, it went along the lines of Stuart always being a bit weird, but they didn't think anything of it at first. But he never had any friends, always got into fights at school and would sometimes lock himself in his room for hours on end. By the time he was a teenager, he was more or less a recluse. Doctors told Linda and her husband he'd grow out of it, but he didn't. Then one day Linda came home from work (Stuart was about 17 by then) and he'd locked himself in his room. He wouldn't come out and her husband eventually had to kick the door down. They realised he'd smashed a mirror and cut himself quite badly. Basically he was sectioned and has been in and out of hospital ever since. He's currently back at home and Linda says he's making good progress with a new medication but Linda's never gotten over the guilt of not having done something to help him sooner.

So Linda finishes telling this story and then she turns to me, wipes her eyes and says to the team (and I write this pretty much word for word):

"I've never really felt like sharing any of this before, but Rachel has just told me – I hope you don't mind me saying Rachel – that her mum is a schizophrenic as well. It's made me realise that I'm not the only one out there with these problems and that I shouldn't try to hide them from my friends anymore."

She pauses.

"Anyway, I've been talking for far too long. Rachel, would you like to talk about your own experience of schizophrenia?"

FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!!!

On cue, the whole table turns to look at me. Ben is staring at me as if I am utterly bonkers. So what do I do?! What ANYONE ELSE would have done in my shoes, especially after a couple of glasses of wine. I lie my fucking arse off.

"Well." I begin.

And this (please don't judge me - I know I am an awful person) is what I said:

"I suppose my story is pretty similar to Linda's really. I remember my mum was a little eccentric whilst I was growing up. But I didn't have anything to compare her to because my dad left when I was little. And obviously she's Malaysian, which made her culturally different to my friends' mums anyway"

[Cue sympathetic nod and hand squeeze from Linda].

"Anyway, I remember that sometimes when I went to school, no one would come to pick me up. Fortunately we had a nice neighbour whose daughter was in my class and she would take me home and give me my dinner. Sometimes I'd even stay over for the night and she'd take me to school the next day."

I look around the table. Everyone is looking at me. Apart from Ben, who is staring at his hands and refusing to meet my eye.

"By the time I was 10 or 11, things had gotten a lot worse. Or perhaps I was just beginning to notice the problems because I was that little bit older. Anyway, mum would disappear upstairs in the evenings after we'd had dinner and sit in her room, cutting out articles from newspapers and magazines and arranging them all over the room. She said that she was trying to solve a big government conspiracy and that when she'd cracked the code we'd be given lots of money not to go to the press. One day I broke into her study and I realised that she'd covered the room from floor to ceiling with these cuttings and had scribbled all over them in red marker pen. It looked like a murder investigation board, like the ones you see on television when the police are trying to solve a case, only much worse. I realised then that mum had a problem and so I told my neighbour, who ended up calling social services. The doctors came to take mum away to a hospital and I lived with my neighbour for a few months. When mum came back, she was a changed person. The doctors had put her on some medication that seemed to control her erratic behaviour. She's still pretty strange in some ways, but I just put that down to her personality rather than anything else. She's even started seeing someone recently and that has really made a difference. So everything is good really."

At this point, Linda interrupts me and says: "What an amazing turnaround. What medication is she on? If it really is as good as you say, I'd like to look into it for Stuart."

"Um, I'm not sure." I reply. "I'll speak to my mum and let you know. I have a feeling she got it from the States."

I have never felt so fucking awful in my entire life. But the absolute WORST part was that Ben knew I was lying. I glanced over at him afterwards and the look he gave me was clear. He thought I was a complete bitch.

So, what the fuck should I do? Do you think I should come clean? Do you think I'm a despicable person? Will Ben ever talk to me again?!?!

The guilt even made me phone my mum when I got back to the office. The phone rang for ages before she picked up. Since I'm now into this whole word-for-word script writing shit, you might like to know our conversation went a little something like this:

"It's me."

"Who me? I think you got the wrong number."

"Mum, it's Rachel."

"Oh. What you want, Rachel?"

"Nothing. I just thought I'd say hello."

"I busy. I doing the garden."

"What are you doing in the garden?"

"Digging a pond."

"You're what?"

"I digging a pond."

"Why are you digging a pond?"

"Because I bought frogspawn from the internet. I need somewhere to put it."

In the end I gave up and hung up on her. Perhaps my mother is schizophrenic after all?! Although she never snaps out of it, which would suggest that she is actually just fucking mental.

Hopefully speak to you later anyway.

Rach

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

What have you done?

19 December 2012, 18:52

Rachel,

  1. Your mother is not insane. She is just an acquired taste. Whilst digging a pond is, on the face of it, an extreme solution to finding a home for a bag of frogspawn, I can't help but admire her determination. When Toby dug a pond in our garden in order to cultivate a rare species of algae, it took him a good few days to dig and line the hole and then plumb in the pump, and he did struggle at times to do it singlehandedly. How a five feet tall, 60-year old woman would manage it is beyond me – particularly one afflicted with an alleged mental illness!

  2. I can't believe that you told all your work colleagues that your mum is schizophrenic! Obviously Ben would have been suspicious – don't you remember the time I met you at your flat a few months ago for dinner? You'd invited Ben round to show him that rosette you'd won with Aristotle and your mum turned up unannounced with a chair made out of cardboard. She immediately challenged Ben (before being formally introduced, I might add) to identify which of the two bracelets she was wearing was real diamond and which was cubic zirconium. I distinctly recall the occasion because I remember thinking that I'd never seen a man look so frightened. And then she shouted at him when he got the answer right! As eccentric as she was that evening, I think it would have been pretty clear to a normal human being that your mum doesn't suffer with schizophrenia. Crazy Asian Mother Syndrome, maybe. But not schizophrenia. Even if Ben thought for one moment that she did, he's probably justifiably upset that you didn't trust him enough to tell him.

  3. I think that might be the longest email I have ever read from you in my entire life. I now realise why you complain about mine!

Incidentally, I don't think that a full-blown confession at work will get you anywhere. Hopefully after the Christmas break everyone will have forgotten all about it, including Ben. I really wouldn't worry - just put it down to a drunken episode (even though you weren't actually drunk).

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Do hangovers make one more immature?

19 December 2012, 20:34

Have just been copied in on the following email from Veronica (she's on the night shift for Ashok), which has had me giggling non-stop for a good 20 minutes.

Ashok,

The printer is jamming again. Not in the Bob Marley sense unfortunately and so I've had to call IT.

Veronica

I'm worried that my hangover has caused my brain to fry.

Isla xx

Ps. Remember that we're out tomorrow night!

20 December 2012

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Morning

20 December 2012, 9:45

How are things at work today?

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Major incident

_20 December 2012,_ 9 _:_ 53

Am fine, but there's been a major work scandal! You'll never guess what Donald has done!!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Major incident

_20 December 2012,_ 9:54

Did he fall asleep in the warehouse again?

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: Major incident

_20 December 2012,_ 9 _:_ 54

Better! I can't even type, I'm laughing so fucking hard.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Re: Re: Major incident

_20 December 2012,_ 9:56

Tell me!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: Re: Re: Major incident

_20 December 2012,_ 9 _:_ 59

Well...we're getting the toilets in our block refurbished. Last week we had an email go round to say that they would be out of action until after Christmas, so we have to use the visitor ones on the ground floor until further notice. Donald, being a lazy bastard, decided he couldn't be bothered to trek all that way, so just went ahead and did his business in the normal loos. Unfortunately he needed a number two. And even more unfortunately, the builders had completely disconnected the plumbing and left a ruddy great hole in the side of the building. So Donald's crap slid slowly down the u-bend, eventually gaining enough momentum to shoot out the hole and straight onto the windscreen of Neil's car!!!!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

You are kidding?!

_20 December 2012,_ 10:03

My God, that is gross. Isn't he the one you already call the Human Turd?!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: You are kidding?!

_20 December 2012,_ 10:04

Yes!! The nickname actually came from his general infatuation with brown cords and brown jumpers, but the irony of the name is not lost.

I can hear Neil shouting at Donald now. My sides are aching.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Re: You are kidding?!

_20 December 2012,_ 10:06

Well I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. The nicknames you lot have for your work colleagues are incredibly harsh. Who's the one you call Scrotum??

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Don't remind me

_20 December 2012,_ 10:25

Sorry - just got back from watching Donald clean Neil's car. Oh my God, I still can't believe it.

Dave. And it's not Scrotum, it's Scrote. And it's not that harsh. Just an accurate description of what a 45-year old man with a shaved head actually looks like.

Wow - that's really cheered me up! Up until that point, my day was pretty rubbish. I'd wasted a whole hour trying to avoid Linda and talk to Ben. I'd failed miserably at both.

And now that the merriment is over, I've just remembered about something else I have to stress about. My stupid fucking car is making bizarre noises and I'm worried that something might be wrong with it. I think something fell off the back as I was coming into work. Either that or I hit another badger. But I've had a look and can't see anything obvious missing. Or any evidence of roadkill either. I just hope it won't break down altogether - I can't afford to get it repaired again. :.(

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Nothing to report

20 December 2012, 11:15

Can we stop talking about poo now please?

And will you just get rid of that bloody car? You may as well have a Ferrari the amount you spend on it! I know you think you're some kind of girl racer, but I don't see why you can't own something a little bit more basic. Someone at work is getting rid of a Nissan Micra if you're interested?

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

What?!

20 December 2012, 11:23

A Nissan Micra?! Are you fucking kidding me?!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: What?!

20 December 2012, 12:03

What's wrong with a Nissan Micra?

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: What?!

20 December 2012, 12:21

Put it this way - it's like shopping at Waitrose all your life and then being told that not only do you have to shop in Spar, but you can only pick items from the fucking reduced section!!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Fine

20 December 2012, 12:43

I'll take that as a "no" to the car then.

Just don't blame me when you have to fork out another £200 on a car you don't need and can't afford. Or when you do have to shop in Spar because you've no money to spend on food!

Am trying to decide what to have for lunch - shall I go for a Chilli foccacia with smoked ham and scarmorza cheese or a goat's cheese and pear salad?

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Fine

20 December 2012, 12:52

Hmm...yum.

Sometimes I wish I worked in London. Your lunch choices sound awesome! Last week I missed the sandwich delivery man and so had to have a packet of scotch eggs that Linda didn't want!!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Ridiculous

20 December 2012,13:02

That is disgusting. Lunch is sacred in my opinion. It pains me to think of you eating bits of a pig that nature never intended to be eaten.

Have just volunteered to do some pro bono work after lunch at St Mary's secondary school, so I won't be about for a couple of hours. Apparently I'm going to be helping some nine year olds with their reading - sounds like a fun way to spend an afternoon! I hope they're reading something decent. I haven't had time to read a book in ages.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

What's the world coming to?

20 December 2012, 14:02

Hi,

The following email has just been circulated around our office:

Colleagues,

A large selection of potatoes ranging in size from the sublime to the frankly ridiculous is on the table in the common room.

Enjoy!

Dave

It's not a joke either – the table in our staff common room is covered with potatoes!

I sometimes think I work in a loony bin.

What's the plan for tonight by the way? How was your pre bone thing?

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: What is the world coming to?

20 December 2012, 16:02

Rather a contrast to the latest email that just went around our office:

Dear all,

It has come to our attention that not all staff have completed a workstation assessment. As you will no doubt be aware, this is essential under current health and safety legislation to ensure the your office equipment is fit for purpose. The assessment will also provide you with training on how to operate your office chair. In this regard, a leaflet entitled "The importance of posture: what a workstation assessment means for you" has been circulated to every person in the firm. Please take the time to read the leaflet and book onto an assessment by clicking on the voting buttons above. Failure to do so will result in notification being given to your line manager.

After completing your workstation assessment, all staff will be required to complete a short health and safety questionnaire, following which they will be issued with a compliance certificate. This should take no more than 45 minutes of your time, and may be recorded as investment time under the new time charging code entitled "Office Compliance" _._

Kind regards.

Robert Maloney

Facilities Manager

Surely this man has something better to do with his time?!

Don't ask about the pro bono - I was expecting to help inspire a young mind. All I actually managed to do was get bullied for two hours by the world's most annoying nine year old. He spent the whole time telling me why my job was stupid. Unfortunately I was largely inclined to agree with him.

Anyway, plan for tonight: I got a text from Alex just now (rather surreal) which said that he's booked Da Divo in Mayfair for 7pm and has also arranged a booth at CCC for drinks afterwards. So, if you get the train into town straight from work, I'll meet you at Sloane Square station at about 6.30pm. Does that work for you?

I cannot tell you how excited I am! I've never been to Da Divo, but have read about it in the papers. It's meant to be amazing. I've looked at the menu online already. It's all in Italian and so I couldn't actually understand any of it but it sounds good! I'm going to have the "carpaccio di manzo con rucola", followed by "papparedelle al cinghiale", both of which are highly recommended by the scary food critic in Metro. No idea what any of this is but I'm going to speak to the Italian guy in catering to find out. I'm also going to ask him to teach me the correct pronunciation so that I look like I eat there all the time.

What are you going to wear, by the way? I'm a bit unsure as to whether to go straight out in my office clothes with a pair of killer heels or change into something more evening-ish? On the one hand, I think the office look is actually a bit more sexy, especially once I've added a few accessories. On the other hand, we'll probably be mixing with people that don't have proper jobs and so have had all day to make themselves look utterly divine and fashionable. Maybe I ought to buy something?!

Let me know what you think.

Isla

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Tonight

20 December 2012, 16:38

I can't believe Alex fucking texted you. That's more than I've had from Spencer. I don't even know for sure that he's even coming! Arsehole.

NO WAY am I wearing my office clothes tonight! At this precise moment I am wearing a pair of black trousers from Wallis and an M&S jumper!!! I look like Mrs Slade!! I did used to wear my normal clothes to work but I got so many looks and questions that I couldn't be arsed with the hassle. So in answer to your question, I will be wearing a new dress that I bought a couple of weeks ago on Ebay. It's short, backless and ever so slightly slutty!!

Please don't buy anything new. I'm sure whatever you've got on now looks great.

A 6.30 meet-up is perfect. The girls at the yard are looking after Aristotle this evening so I can forget about him until tomorrow morning. I'm a little bit nervous about it to be honest. The last time they tried to bring him in from the field he FREAKED big time and galloped into the woods. It took them four hours to find him!! And when they did, the little shit was in a foul mood. He even kicked down a couple of fence panels on his way back to the stable. I don't think Vicci (who owns the yard) likes him very much but until he actually does something that I can't afford to pay for, there's sod all she can really do. Personally I think he's just misunderstood – he was brought up for the first two years of his life to be a racehorse and so I don't think he understands that he has to stand around in a field all day, waiting for me to ride him. He's an absolute angel when you spend a bit of time with him. I guess he's a bit like a spoilt child. Reminds me a lot of Spencer thinking about it!

I need to work on my exhibit for our next road show now so had better go. We're branching out into commercial shower units and I need to put together a "killer presentation" (not my words, OBVIOUSLY) to explain our new range. Fun fun fun!!!

Speak later! :.)

Rach x

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Tonight

20 December 2012, 16:54

Rach

Right – don't kill me, but I nipped out and bought myself a new dress. I wasn't happy with what I was wearing. Whilst I love the office look, particularly with my pink Joseph blouse, it screams "too poor to not work" and so I thought I'd buy something a bit more flexible. So I went to Reiss and found a beautiful silver tunic dress that will go perfectly with the heels that I've brought in from home.

So, I'll see you at 6.30 at Sloane Square. I'd better do some work now or otherwise one of the partners might come in and ask me to do something. That would be an absolute travesty. Fortunately I've told everyone I'm going away this evening and so hopefully I'll be able to sneak out on time tonight.

Can't wait to see you!

Isla x

Text Messages

20 and 21 December 2012

Rachel, 19.36

Psst. How do you pronounce "tagliata di manzo"?

Isla, 19:37

Why are you saying psst in a text?! It's TA-LI-ARTA D MAN-ZO

Rachel, 00:47

Where r u?

Isla, 00:58

Dancefloor. U?

Rachel, 00:59

In some kind of treehouse??

Isla, 01:02

I know where you are. Stay there.

Rachel, 01:08

Still in the fucking treehouse. Where are you?!

Isla, 01:09

Dancin with Alex. FoRgot I was comin to find you!

Rachel, 01:08

If he kisses you, I'll flatten him

Isla, 02:15

Where are you?!

Isla, 02:26

I can't find you!

Rachel, 03:02

I think I shud go home soon. I hav work 2moro.

Isla, 03:03

They're just about to play our song....

Rachel, 03:03

C u in 2

21 December 2012

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

How are you feeling?

21 December 2012,15:02

Wanted to see how you were feeling after last night. I felt like death at 8am this morning but feel better for a few hours' extra sleep. Then I remembered you had to work this morning. I feel very guilty - I know I made you stay out much later than you wanted to.

Have just been to see my dad to say goodbye. Normally he would be really disappointed at the prospect of being by himself at Christmas, but he didn't bat an eyelid! I have a sneaking suspicion that he's got his own plans that he hasn't told me about. I asked him what he was up to and he just said that he'd planned "a quiet Christmas at home". I'm going to make sure I phone him on Christmas Day (I assume they have phones on cruise ships??) to find out what's he's up to. I can't believe my own father is keeping secrets from me. Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? He also wasn't the slightest bit interested in the fact that we went out with Alex Robertson last night. Firstly, he didn't even know who he was. Then when I told him, the only thing he asked was whether Toby minded that I'd been out for dinner with a famous footballer. I told him that I had zero interest in Alex and that Toby trusted me implicitly, but Dad just made an annoying "hmruph" sound and changed the subject.

I don't think there's a problem with me being friends with Alex, is there? Both Alex and I are engaged to different people for a start and Alex has never showed the slightest inclination that he is interested in me in that way. I'm certainly not interested in him. I can't imagine anything worse than dating a footballer. God, my dad is so annoying! He always makes me feel bad about things like this.

Isla x

Ps. We're leaving really early tomorrow morning to drive down to Southampton. I'm hoping there will be internet access on the ship - if so, I will keep you updated!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: How are you feeling?

21 December 2012, 15:18

Oh yes I'm feeling fucking tremendous. There is a spring in my step and joy in my fucking heart. Having to wake up early was just great, especially because I went to bed five hours later than usual – sleeping is just so overrated. I might not bother at all tonight.

To make my day even more special, Spencer's boiler broke this morning and so I had to have a freezing cold shower, which really set me up for the day. This was followed by a cup of tea that was so hot it melted the plastic of the thermos I made it in, making it taste absolutely fucking delicious.

And it's just as well that I feel like shit because the stuff I needed to do today didn't require much concentration. It only had to be signed off by Neil and it's not like he's a perfectionist or anything. We also have our most important clients in the office today for a site visit, which is really cool. Loads of people to chat to. I think I've made a really good impression on them with my bloodshot eyes and dress that I wore out last night, which btw has also ripped around my bum so that you can actually SEE my knickers through it now. I think they must think I'm a real pro, the way I'm completely flouting the corporate dress guidelines and dressing like a complete slut. I must look really ambitious, the way I've so obviously been working too hard to take any notice of my appearance.

Most of all, I'm really pleased that I got the train and a taxi to work today (was running too late to pick up my car) – it gives me the opportunity to spend some time pondering how the fuck I'm going to get home later. I love problems like this because I don't really have too much else to think about today, so this one will be a nice little teaser for me to get my head around. As well as this I had no lunch, nor any cash to buy lunch. All that was fine though because I'm not hungry today at all, even though I have a raging fucking hangover.

So yes, today is going swimmingly thanks for asking, and I've just noticed it's not even 3.30 yet – I just love it when a day as good as this seems to go on and on and on.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Umm

21 December 2012, 16:14

Are you being sarcastic?

I'll probably email you tomorrow when I'm on route to Southampton. Toby won't let me do any of the driving because apparently I'm a terrible driver. I've pointed out to him countless times that I passed my driving test first time and must therefore be mildly competent but he tells me that I don't follow the two second rule on motorways, nor do I ensure that I can see "tires and tarmac" when I stop behind another car.

Tell me you at least had a fun night?!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Umm

21 December 2012, 16:26

Sarcastic? Me? No, I was being deadly fucking serious. I love being at work after a night of serious drinking.

I was going to ignore your emails all day today because you neglected to remind me last night, when ordering yet another round of tequila, that you had the day off today! Bitch.

Fortunately for you, I can't bear the thought of doing any more work. So I may as well waste a few minutes by emailing you back. I also don't want to ignore you completely in case your cruise ship sinks. Not that they ever do.

Yes, I had a great night, although I'm not sure it was worth it, based on the day I've had today. To make things TEN times worse, everyone in the office is in a festive mood. Dave passed by my desk with a sprig of mistletoe just now, clearly hoping that I would change the habit of a fucking lifetime and actually do something charitable.

Oh, and Ben STILL isn't talking to me. I don't think he's ignoring me as such, but he had lunch with Melissa both yesterday AND today!! I'm beginning to think that something might be going on between them, but I can't bring myself to ask. Especially today, when the thought of opening my mouth to ask a question makes me want to projectile vomit all over the floor.

Despite all this, last night was good fun. Spencer and I got on really well and I kind of understand now why he likes going out with Alex so much. I never realised how much attention you get when you're with someone famous! I couldn't deal with those girls who kept throwing themselves at Spencer though. It makes me wonder what his reaction is when I'm not there. But I guess I have to trust him. When I asked him about it, he told me that it used to be a real novelty, but then he realised that he was just a metaphorical fat friend and that the girls were only using him to try to get to Alex. Which is pretty sad when you think about it because Spencer is gorgeous and were it not for Alex, he would be getting just as many girls throwing themselves at him for genuine reasons.

I was surprised at how well you and Alex seemed to get on. You are complete opposites when you think about it. You are super clever. He is lacking a brain cell or two. He is fit and athletic. You once passed out after running two kilometres on a treadmill. You are going out with a scientist with a degree in microbiology. He is engaged to a lingerie model whose GCSE grades probably match her bra size. What the fuck did you two talk about?!

I've also never seen Alex look quite so cheerful either. It must make a nice change talking to a girl with a brain. I don't think he's ever had a conversation with a woman before that wasn't about how great he was, how well he plays football or what her favourite sexual position is.

Btw, I've convinced Spencer to come to yours for New Year!!! I think it'll be nice to have a quiet evening out for a change. Last year we ended up at some after-party in Vauxhall and didn't get home until 11am. So a dinner party will be really nice. I'm sure Spencer and Tubs will get on as well. And I LOVE Toby when he's drunk. Do you remember that time we drank two litres of his homemade cider? I'll never forget him putting his strobe on and doing a mime to Walking on Broken Glass. Funniest fucking thing I've ever seen.

Have a great holiday and let me know how it goes!

Merry Christmas!!!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Home time

21 December 2012, 16:42

Neil has told us we can leave! He wandered into the office, looked surprised to see us all at our desks and said:

"Why are you lot still here? I thought I told everyone to take the afternoon off?"

I've never seen anyone move so quick. I think Linda did a runner with her computer still on!!

Anyway, try to keep in touch whilst you're away – I'm sure cruise ships are now advanced enough to have Internet. Although I haven't got a fucking clue how that works!

Was hoping to say Merry Christmas to Ben on his way out, but it looks like he's already left. I'm going to have to speak to him in the New Year and try to sort this mess out...

22 December 2012

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Southampton Bound

22 December 2012, 6:30

Emaiing whist in car so mst be subtle. T hates it. Thiinks I enjy working whilst I'm with him. Have devloped brilliasnt abilittty to type under cOat whilst looking strasght ahead and talkikng to T at the same time.

Fortunbbately, T

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Southampton Bound

22 December 2012, 6:43

Clearlyy not as goood as I thught. May neeed to email in instalments.

Fortunmately T concenttrating vry hard on rooad. Difficult drivin consditions due to heavy rain on mtorway. Two seccond rule exxxtended to four second ruule, so things must be bvvad.

Reallly dont think A andI are so differernt. No worsse than T and I anywy. A is a biig fAN of legaal tv programmes. But for som reeason he thnks lawyers are glamorous. Put himm straught. Thik he was disappointed to learn law firms dont hav basement bars.

A also big fann of clothes shoping! Hes invited meto come withh him to vist his personaal stylist at harvey nichols! Said I could get hs advice and theen trt on loads of thinggs juste for fun.

Thnk mightt have gott the wring impresssion of A. Wuld hate to go out witgh him but hes a fun friennd to have.

I just wish T ws more fun sometiimes.

Must stop moanning. NOt far away frm the ferry port now.

Text Messages

22 December 2012

Rachel, 15.36

Did you get on the boat okay?

Isla, 15.38

Yes! Just unpacking. We got upgraded!

Rachel, 15.39

How come?

Isla,15:40

Toby wrestled a knife from the hands of a maniac!

Rachel, 15:40

You're joking?!

Isla, 15:41

Just exaggerating. Some old guy in the security queue tried to smuggle his penknife on board. Things were getting ugly with the security guard until Toby convinced the old dude to let it be confiscated. It was a side to Toby I'd never seen before!

Rachel, 15:42

I can't imagine Tubs doing that at all! Is your room nice?

Isla, 15:41

It's tiny!

Rachel, 15:43

I thought you said you got an upgrade?!

Isla, 15:43

We did! Same size room except now we can actually see the sea (partially obscured).

Rachel, 15:44

Oh. Is everything else okay?

Isla, 15:45

Yep. Although the ship is full of old people. At one point I thought we might have died on the motorway and got in the queue to Heaven. And I've never seen so many cauliflower perms.

Rachel, 15:45

Am sure it's not that bad.

Isla, 15:46

You can rent disability scooters and wheelchairs on board the ship.

Rachel, 15:47

Okay, maybe it is! Have fun anyway!

Isla, 15:48

Will do....off to explore the ship now. Have a good Christmas! xx

Rachel, 15:49

You too hun! Xx
25 December 2012

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Oops

25 December 2012, 18:16

Have just made a bit of a boo boo and I don't know what to do about it.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Oops

25 December 2012, 18:32

Oh dear God, what have you done now?!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Re: Oops

25 December 2012, 18:33

I can't type it all on my phone. Let me try to find the Business Centre. I'll email you in a bit.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Nightmare

25 December 2012, 18:35

Am at my mum's so will have to reply later. Hope that's okay.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Hi

25 December 2012, 19:45

Okay, hello.

Yes that's fine, I just wanted to confess to someone to be honest! I probably don't want to hear your reaction anyway...

Here goes...It's rather a long story. I'll try to keep it as animated as possible, so you don't fall asleep...

The whole thing started when we arrived at our table for Christmas dinner today. We were booked on a group table because we hadn't realised you had to get in early if you wanted a table for two. So we arrived at this table along with three other couples, who introduced themselves as Dorine and Ray, Rita and Mick and Will and Christine. They were all roughly my dad's age, or maybe older. As soon as we arrived and got ourselves seated, I immediately made what I now realise to be the ultimate cruise faux pas - I asked Rita to pass me the wine. Rita looked at me like I'd just strangled a puppy but begrudgingly passed it over. It was then that I realised that the wine clearly didn't come with the food - each couple appeared to have ordered their own. So I turned the label of the bottle towards me and said:

"Oh sorry, Rita. This isn't our wine. It looked the same from over here. I'd better ask the waiter where our wine has got to."

Rita breathed an audible sigh of relief and I gave Toby a swift kick under the table. Fortunately Toby had cottoned on as to what was going on and managed to beckon over the sommelier. By the time the sommelier had made his way over to us, we were half-way through our Christmas lunch. I was just about to speak, when Christine got there first:

"Young man. You've forgotten this young couple's bottle of wine. They said they'd ordered one but it doesn't appear to have arrived."

The sommelier was immediately beside himself and frantically began leafing through his order book.

"What was your room number again, Madame?"

"1404," I said, in a small voice. I noticed that Toby was concentrating very hard on his brussel sprouts and refusing to make eye contact with me.

"I'm so sorry, Madame, but I don't appear to have your order. Could you tell me which bottle of wine it was? I do apologise, this has never happened on my watch before. I pride myself on my order book."

"it was..erm...it was." I was suddenly at a complete loss as to what to say and for the life of me could not remember a single grape variety nor a wine producing country. Suddenly, I had a flash of inspiration.

"I think it was an Austrian wine." No sooner had I said it then all the other well-known wine producing countries sprang to mind and I immediately cursed myself for not coming up with one of them. What if they didn't have an Austrian wine on the menu?

"An excellent choice, Madam. One of our vintage bottles. Perhaps that's why it's not on my list. It's one that we have to get out from the cool room."

Before I had had a chance to request something different, the sommelier had vanished in a flurry of paperwork over to the other side of the ship. Toby was looking at me with a mixture of fear and dread on his face. I felt him kick me under the table, a little harder than was probably necessary.

The other couples on the table had been studying me with great interest during this encounter.

"I didn't realise you were a wine buff," Ray said. "What's an Austrian wine like when it's at home?"

I took a deep breath and let the bullshit flow out of me with as much credibility as I could muster.

"It's a wine producing country which has had particularly bad press. You may recall the anti-freeze scandal some years ago, which all but destroyed the Austrian winemaking industry. Fortunately, since then, Austrian wines have begun to make a comeback. Some of the nicest wines available nowadays are from Austria, but people simply don't think to try them. There are also not a large number of them imported into the UK."

All I can say is, thank God for the client wine tasting event we had last year. Everyone at the table looked suitably impressed, apart from Toby who was looking at me as if I was a complete idiot.

Fortunately, before anyone could ask any more questions, the sommelier arrived back at the table, proudly displaying a rather nondescript bottle of wine. He showed me the label and I studied it in such a manner as to suggest I knew exactly what I was reading.

"Do you speak German then?" Will asked, clearly impressed.

"A little, ya." I said.

"What's wine in German?"

"Vine" I said.

"And what does it say on the label?"

I took a deep breath. Take two. I realised that this time I would have to be a little more inventive.

"It says that this one is a delicately flavoured medium dry crisp wine, particularly suited to white meat and fish. It has overtones of peach and elderflower with a hint of summer sun. Perfect for balmy days by the sea with a picnic lunch."

"That's very specific," said Christine.

"Yes. Austrian wines tend to be like that. They are specifically tailor-made to suit certain occasions."

"Not really suited to Christmas dinner either!" said Will, who began chortling to himself.

"No, I suppose not. Perhaps it wasn't the best choice of wine after all."

"Shall I pour the wine, Madam?"

It was then that I realised that the sommelier was still standing there. I knew in my head that I should say no, but when Toby gave me one last kick under the table, I took a deep breath and said, "Yes please".

The sommelier proceeded to open the bottle of wine with great gusto, pouring a little of it into my glass. I picked up the glass, swilled the wine around and made a show of slurping it in my mouth and rinsing it around my palette. To me it tasted no different to any other pleasant dry white wine. Certainly no better than any other that I might have bought at Tesco.

"It's very nice." I said and indicated that he should fill up my glass.

Once he had poured our glasses, he pulled out a small leather book from his back pocket.

"Will Madam also be signing the receipt?" he said.

I quickly grabbed it before Toby could get anywhere near it.

"That's what you want in a girlfriend, sonny" said Ray. "One that always signs the bill."

Toby laughed with him, but I could tell he was distinctly unimpressed by my behaviour.

I quickly signed the receipt and handed it back to the sommelier. Whereupon I downed a glass of my £450 bottle of wine.

For the rest of the meal I was grateful for the presence of the other three couples, mainly because it meant that I didn't have to speak to Toby. Fortunately, as he began drinking our ludicrously expensive bottle of wine, he seemed to loosen up a bit and after half a bottle, appeared to have forgotten all about it. He even said yes to a cognac with Will and Ray, this time pointedly choosing one of the cheaper ones from the spirits menu handed to him.

"Not so much a connoisseur of cognac as your girlfriend is of wine then?" Ray asked.

"Isla has more expensive tastes than I do," he replied.

Whilst the boys (if that's the right description - perhaps I should say "gentlemen") were drinking their cognac, I excused myself from the table and came straight here to email you. Not so much because I expect you to reply on Christmas Day, but more because I had to tell someone about what I'd done before I tell Toby. I know he's going to ask how much the wine was, and he'll go utterly berserk when he finds out it cost about the same amount as a holiday for two to the Costa del Sol (not that he'd ever want to go there anyway).

Am considering not going back to the table, but that would look rude. I am also considering going to the casino and trying to win it back, but that would obviously be foolish. I may not be good with money, but I do know that having to tell Toby I'd lost another few hundred at Blackjack would probably result in the confiscation of my credit cards. Possibly permanently.

No, I think the best solution is to get Toby ludicrously drunk on more cognac and then tell him. He's always a lot more relaxed when he's drunk anyway.

Aside from the above, Christmas is going okay. Toby loved his binoculars - he's been using them all morning. He is also very excited about meeting Norm. He got me a beautiful charm to put on my charm bracelet, as well as the usual slippers, dressing gown and Jo Malone perfume (to add to my collection). Also have presents from his parents and my dad to be opened when we get home. I got a postcard from mum from the Maldives but I tore it up and threw it away in case dad sees it when he goes to check on our flat tonight. It's not really something you want to see when you've got to spend Christmas by yourself, is it? Which reminds me, I'd better email dad whilst I'm online.

Speak soon!

Isla xxx

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

You Idiot

25 December 2012, 22:42

You absolute tit!!! What made you think it was a good idea to order a bottle of wine without knowing the price?? I absolutely fucking despair of you sometimes. Think of all the other things you could have bought with that money. For me, that would be a whole year of clothes shopping!!!! Or twenty haircuts!!!! Or one hundred bottles of wine for us plebs!!! No wonder you and Alex get on so well. Only difference is, he earns £80,000 a week!!

All is good here, THANKS FOR ASKING!! And since you kindly felt the need to write a blow-by-blow account of your day without even asking about mine, I'm going to make you listen to what I've been up to today!

So, I rocked up at mum's at 11am this morning and got in trouble straight away for being half an hour late. I then got shouted at again before I'd even walked through the door for not remembering to bring her hoover back. I reminded her that my car was being fixed (another thing which you could have used your £450 towards!) and that it therefore wasn't practical to carry an upright hoover on a 20-minute walk to her house. She huffed about for a bit and then told me that I could probably have done with the exercise.

As usual, the smell of food in the house was AMAZING, which made me feel a little bit more forgiving. She was making crispy duck pancakes from scratch for starters, followed by roast goose. The kitchen was piled high with a random collection of ingredients. Fuck knows where she buys some of these things. She won't tell me her source, which makes me think it might be illegal. My only regret is that she never taught me how to cook proper Malaysian food – selfish cow. I tell her this whilst she's standing in the kitchen making the pancakes and she reminds me that I never showed any interest in either cooking or eating when I was younger. Apparently (according to her, although I accept that this might be true) all I was interested in up until the age of 13 was horses and then it was just boys.

At midday, we went into the lounge to open presents. I had bought her a pair of gardening shears that claimed never to go blunt. Mum had bought me a random assortment of stuff, as usual. All of it from the home shopping channel. I am now the proud owner of the following bits of crap:

  1. a Wonder Mop;

  2. a 28 piece Tupperware set;

  3. a television wall bracket (this would be useful if I had a flat screen TV, but I don't);

  4. a bikini that enables you to tan through it (am actually quite excited by this one and fortunately mum had the sense to buy a black one in the right size);

  5. a gravy baster; and

  6. a watch of unknown origin with seven inter-changeable straps.

I'd just finished looking at the watch to see if there was any way I could wear it out in public when the doorbell rang. I looked at mum. She looked at me. And then she said: "Oh, that must be Derek."

"Derek? Mum, who the hell (thought fuck, said hell) is Derek?!"

"My friend. I invite him over for lunch."

And with that, she trotted happily off to let "Derek" in!!!

Now you know I'm not particularly good with people I've never met before. So when Derek walked into the lounge and held out his hand to say hello, I must have given him some kind of dirty look because he looked like I'd slapped him in the face.

"Er...hello" he said.

"Hello," I said. I was at a complete loss as to what the fuck to do or say. So I did what comes most naturally to me in awkward situations. I ignored him. However, since Mum was in the kitchen crashing about like a lunatic, I realised that I probably had a good five minutes of silence to cope with unless I made an effort at conversation. So I gave it a stab. It went a little something like this:

"So how do you know my mum?"

"Lola and I are friends from work. We met over the photocopying machine."

A sudden image of my mother and Derek having sex on the photocopying machine flew into my head. Possibly the most unpleasant thought that my brain has EVER conjured up. Apart from the one of Tubs doing the naked Bollywood dance, that is. But that was your fault. To make matters so much worse, Derek is NOT what you would call an attractive older man. His hair is black and greasy and swept over to one side of his head. He is average height and weight but I could tell on first glance that he has SHOCKINGLY bad dress sense – he was wearing high-waisted dark blue jeans (can you even still get those?!) and a mint coloured short-sleeved shirt. Fucking MINT!!! Admittedly he has nice friendly eyes and good teeth (so hopefully good personal hygiene) but he was also wearing WHITE MOCCASINS, which took his overall score on appearance right down to a big fat zero.

At this point my mum came back into the room and gave Derek a mug.

"I have mullered wine," she said proudly.

"It's mulled wine Mum," I said.

"That's what I said."

Mum and Derek then proceeded to have a conversation in which I was clearly not expected to get involved. It turns out that mum and Derek share the same passion for gardening. Mum proudly showed him the gardening shears I'd bought her for Christmas and Derek studied them like he'd just been presented with the Queen Jewels.

"Yes, a very good-quality make. Your daughter has good taste, just like you."

Mum giggled – a sound that I have NEVER EVER EVER, up until that day, heard escape from her mouth before, and she offered to show him her "winter garden" (which again made me think of something sexual – I honestly don't know what's wrong with me)!! Derek looked about as excited as a toddler in a sweet shop and they almost ran through the patio doors. I looked through the window at them. Derek was looking at mum's half-dug pond and making crazy gestures with his arms. Mum was nodding her agreement and looked like some lovesick teenager.

After wrestling with my inner conscience for the whole time they were outside (during which time I was tempted to lie down on the floor and have a tantrum like a two-year old) I decided that I should try to be happy for her.

When they came back in, mum went back into the kitchen to serve up the starters and Derek and I were left alone again.

"So, your mum tells me you're a high flying marketing executive."

I was about to tell Derek that it was none of his business what I did for a living, but I then made up my mind that it was, after all, Christmas Day, and I should probably make an effort to be nice to him. So I told him about my job, my horse and my ridiculous boyfriend. I noticed as I was speaking that he was actually LISTENING to me and I realised then what it must be like to have a parent who, on the surface at least, was interested in your life. Normally when I tell mum anything, unless it involves the production of a certificate, or something that can be measured in cold hard cash, she really can't give a shit. Either that or she doesn't listen to me in the first place.

Mum then called us into the kitchen for lunch. We tucked into our pancakes and Derek told me a little bit about his own life. I discovered that his wife had died ten years ago from a sudden bout of pneumonia and that he had two sons who were fourteen and eighteen. He said he was very close to his sons, although they had no interest in his gardening pursuits at all.

As he was talking, I couldn't help but notice that mum was utterly engrossed. She was listening to him with a look on her face that can only be described as some form of adoration. I looked across at Derek and saw that he was looking back at her in the same way!!! I suddenly realised I was a bit of a spare part and offered to go grab a bottle of wine from the fridge. This snapped them out of their Lady and the Tramp spaghetti moment and we went back to normal conversation for the rest of the meal. THANK GOD.

I am now back at home, thinking about things. I am still not sure what to make of it.

Anyway, Spencer is supposed to be taking me out for a birthday lunch tomorrow - I'll let you know how it goes. I just hope the bastard remembers.

Hope you're having a good break - I look forward to hearing about more of your cruising adventures!

Speak soon!

Rachel xx

26 December 2012

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Oh dear

26 December 2012, 15:16

Happy Birthday! I hope you have a lovely day with Spencer. Are you going anywhere nice? Fingers crossed for no birthday curse this year!

I'm glad you had a good Christmas. I'm accustomed to getting suicidal messages from you over the festive period and so your latest email made for a refreshing read! This Derek guy sounds very nice, judging from what you've said, although anyone brave enough to date your mum gets my automatic seal of approval. I still remember the time I came round yours for dinner and didn't cook the new potatoes properly. Anyone would have thought I'd released a deadly virus into the atmosphere, rather than just strained some potatoes five minutes too soon.

Unfortunately things have not been going so well here. I'm afraid this is going to be a very very long email since I'm all by myself with nothing to do (all to be explained)....

After I got back from emailing you yesterday, I went back to the table and was pleased to see that Toby was drunk. A row of empty cognac glasses were lined up on the table and he and Ray were giggling uncontrollably. When I asked Toby what was so funny, he looked at Ray and admitted that he couldn't actually remember. Ray began to explain the source of their merriment but couldn't get a sentence out without dissolving into hysterics so I gave up.

After about an hour of watching Toby drink more cognac, I decided that enough was enough, and gave Toby a look. He managed to interpret this through the haze of his drunken stupor and we stood up to excuse ourselves. Ten minutes later (after a great deal of handshaking, kissing and promising to get together for another meal before the end of the cruise – please help me God) we left the table.

It was shortly after we had exited the dining room that we realised that there wasn't very much else to do. We could either drink some more (which Toby wasn't in a fit state to do) go to the casino (which, for reasons already explained, would have been a very bad idea) go to see what entertainment was on offer (I would have killed myself) or go back to the room. Toby started to stroke my arm seductively (if you can call it that given that he tripped over a rug immediately afterwards) and suggested we "go for a lie down". I agreed \- Toby is no Casanova, but he is adorably attractive when drunk. Unfortunately, on our way back, I noticed that since Toby could hardly stand, the chances of him actually managing to perform were not high. My suspicions were confirmed when we got back to our room and Toby fell onto the bed, claiming that he wanted "to have a little nap first". I reminded him that it was only 8.30 but by then he'd already passed out on his back, snoring like a banshee. I initially resigned myself to a night in front of the world's smallest television (literally six inches diameter – our room was designed for a borrower, not a human), but then I reminded myself that it was Christmas Day so, after putting Toby into the recovery position, I decided to go for a wander around the ship.

I meandered aimlessly around for a bit and had a quick nose in duty free. It wasn't long before I was bored (the selection was crap) and I was about to head back to the room when suddenly, out of nowhere, I heard the sound of singing. After attempting to follow the noise and getting lost twice, I eventually discovered a small room off one of the back corridors. It was only then that I realised I'd stumbled upon a carol service in the ship's chapel! Given that I didn't have anything else to do or anywhere else to go, I snuck in at the back and took a seat.

To my disappointment, the service was almost over. However, the vicar then invited us to stand for the final song – Hark the Herald Angels Sing. I instantly felt overwhelmed with emotion when we started to sing – it reminded me so much of our short-lived career in the school choir. I even remembered the Descant. It wasn't quite the same without you singing next to me I have to say - I felt slightly silly singing an octave higher than everyone else and I then forgot the harmony halfway through. Fortunately there was a gentleman at the front of the congregation who was singing so loudly that he drowned everyone else out and so no one seemed to notice that I reverted back to the usual tune partway through the second verse. Probably a wise move because I wasn't sure I could have hit the high note anyway. The service ended immediately after the song, with the vicar wishing us all a Happy Christmas and then inviting us to sample some of the minced pies and mulled wine at the front of the room.

I considered at that point slipping away and going back to bed, but an elderly lady saw me and asked if I would mind helping her to the table, because her legs were "a little unsteady".

"Do you have arthritis?" I asked. "That must be horrible for you."

The lady looked at me.

"Oh no, dear. There's nothing wrong with my legs normally. I'm just a bit pissed!"

I must have looked shocked because she then squeezed my hand and went on to say:

"Stop looking at me like that. As far as I'm aware, there's not an upper age limit for drinking. Now let's go and get some mulled wine."

Realising I had little choice in the matter (you have to respect your elders, after all), I took her arm, escorted her down the aisle and grabbed a couple of glasses. The old lady introduced herself as Joyce. She was absolutely tiny, impeccably dressed, and sported a cauliflower perm (purple headed). She told me that she'd been cruising for three months of the year for the last twelve years, ever since her husband had died, and had visited almost every country in the world. I asked her where her favourite cruising destination was.

"That's easy," she said with a wink. "It has to be Italy. The men there are to die for."

Again, I was temporarily lost for words, but managed to cover this up by downing my mulled wine.

"Good idea," she said. "It's rare you get free drinks on these sorts of trips - we should make the most of it whilst it lasts."

She ordered me to go and get two more glasses, which I obediently did. When I came back to where Joyce was standing, she rummaged around in her handbag and produced a small bottle of what I can only assume was brandy. Before I had time to object, she opened the bottle and poured a good shot into each of our glasses.

"Makes it go down more easily. Cheers!"

At this point I was resigned to the fact that I was about to get pissed with an OAP, but then had a minor panic attack that I might have to help her into bed. Joyce appeared to read my mind because she then piped up with:

"Do you want to know the best thing about being on a cruise like this? However drunk you get, there'll always be a nice steward on hand to help you find your room!"

As we sipped (or in Joyce's case, gulped down) our second glass of mulled wine with brandy chaser, Joyce told me a bit about herself. I found out that she was a Londoner "born and bred" and had lived in the same house off Fulham Broadway for the last 30 years. She told me that she bought the house with her husband in 1982 for £50,000 and that they paid off their mortgage five years later. She said the house was now a little too big for her (it has five bedrooms) but she didn't want to leave because she had nowhere else to go. Instead she spent most of her time on holiday, after getting a massive pension pay-out when her husband died at work one day. I told her I was jealous of her lifestyle. She told me that if I had any sense, I should be.

Having been sent off to get yet another two glasses of mulled wine, I returned just in time to see an old guy, about 80 years old, pinching Joyce's bottom!

As I handed Joyce her glass, she introduced me to "Ernie" and explained (and I promise these are her exact words) that they had been "having a bit of fun together" on various cruises for the last eight years. From what I could gather, Joyce and Ernie (who was totally bald and appeared to have none of his own teeth) had met in 2004 on the "Shirley Valentine". It was lust at first sight (again, Joyce's words, not mine) and they had been meeting each other on cruises twice a year, ever since.

I asked her whether they had ever thought of continuing their romance back in the UK, but Ernie told me, in a very matter of fact fashion, that although the physical attraction was intense, they had absolutely nothing in common. He informed me that Joyce was obsessed with money, spent too much on her appearance and couldn't cook to save her life. Joyce then elbowed him in the ribs, which prompted Ernie to have a loud coughing fit. When he had regained his composure, Joyce informed me that Ernie was a very selfish man, and wouldn't live with a woman unless she could cook, clean and cut his toenails.

"And the chances of that happening with me, Sonny Jim, are next to nil, I can tell you."

Ernie hobbled off to refill our glasses and I quizzed Joyce about their relationship. It was then that she admitted that she did really like him and that they'd recently talked about meeting up back in the UK.

"As much as Ernie jokes about it, I think he'd love for us to be together back home. Only thing is, we've got into this pattern of it being a holiday romance. I think both of us are scared about what it would be like in the cold light of day. And Ernie is worried that his kids would disown him."

"Why would they disown him?" I asked. "Surely they would want their dad to be happy?"

"Not whilst he's married with a wife in a nursing home, they wouldn't," Joyce replied.

I didn't really know how to respond to that, but fortunately I didn't have to because Ernie was back in next to no time, our glasses full to the brim with more mulled wine.

"I topped you up good and proper, Joycie. I think the free drinks are winding up."

By this point, there's no denying, I was well and truly hammered. Suddenly, through the drunken haze, I noticed that there was a piano on the other side of the room. Just for conversation purposes (and to avoid any further sexual innuendo from Ernie, which even after several glasses of mulled wine, was not a pleasure to listen to) I asked Joyce if she knew how to play.

"Do I know how to play? What lady of good standing does not know how to play the piano?"

And with that, before I could answer, and having ordered me to hold her handbag (which I noticed was a vintage Chanel!) she marched over and sat down on the piano stool.

Within five minutes, both Ernie and I, and the other 20 or so people still in the room, were singing. We went through a repertoire of what I assumed to be post-war songs including "Doing the Lambeth Walk" and "My Old Man's a Dustman". I had absolutely no idea how I knew the words, but I must have heard these songs at some point in my life (I have a feeling my mum used to sing one of them - "Underneath the Lamplight" – to get me to go to sleep when I was little) because I was singing along happily with the rest of them.

The next time I looked at my watch, it was gone 2am! I interrupted Joyce's rendition of Vera Lynn's "We'll Meet Again" (to much booing from the crowd) to tell her that I had to go to bed. She gave me a quick hug, told me I was a lightweight and went back to playing the piano, to the raucous applause of her enraptured audience.

After getting desperately lost (at one point I thought I'd been transported into the Labyrinth and was tempted to call out for Hoggle) I finally managed to find my way back to my room. Toby was still unconscious, fully clothed on the bed. I spent some time attempting to take his clothes off and then to wake him up to brush his teeth. I had no luck with either and so rolled Toby back into the recovery position. After getting undressed, taking off my makeup and brushing my own teeth (as, unlike my boyfriend, I am always capable of, however drunk I am) I almost fell into bed.

I must have passed out immediately, because the next thing I knew, it appeared to be morning and Toby was in the bathroom. Judging from the sounds coming out of it, he was not feeling too good. I half opened one eye to test the strength of my own hangover and promptly decided it would be best if I went back to sleep for another couple of hours. I then passed out again.

I woke up at some point later that morning (although the banging in my head suggested it hadn't been anywhere near long enough) to hear Toby saying in a very loud voice:

"WHAT THE FUCK?"

I opened an eye again and, to my horror, saw him holding the receipt from THAT bottle of wine.

"Isla, what the fuck did you think you were playing at? You must have seen the amount before you signed this?"

I could tell you the rest of what Toby said (and what I said in response) in full, but I think it is probably best summarised as follows:

  1. Toby tells me that I have no appreciation of the value of money;

  2. I tell Toby that I'm sorry, but I was in a difficult position, and felt that I had no choice other than to sign the bill once the wine had been opened;

  3. Toby tells me that I need to start saving for our future and stop wasting money all the time;

  4. I tell Toby that you're only young once, and we've got plenty of time to start saving;

  5. Toby says that he thinks my behaviour is abysmal and he feels he doesn't know me anymore;

  6. I start to cry. I then get angry and tell Toby that he should stop being so anal about everything all the time and learn to live a little;

  7. Toby gets angrier and tells me I'm a spoilt brat;

  8. I tell him he's a pompous a-hole and that in any event, I more than made up for the cost of the wine in the amount of free mulled wine and brandy I had consumed the night before;

  9. Toby goes apoplectic that I left the room whilst he was unconscious and went to "party" on the boat by myself. He demands to know who I was drinking with;

  10. I tell Toby that I put him in the recovery position so I knew he would be safe and that he should really take more responsibility for his own behaviour rather than rely on me to look after him. I also inform him that I was at a carol service and then stayed on drinking with two OAPs, both of whom were over the age of 80;

  11. Toby tells me I am clearly lying because he knows I have issues with old people. He tells me that he had booked for us to go on the Boxing Day Sea Safari but that he doesn't want to go with me anymore;

  12. I tell him to go by himself;

  13. Toby gives me the silent treatment whilst he packs a bag with his binoculars, camera and waterproofs and then leaves the room in a huff;

  14. I cry for about 15 minutes, before deciding that I have to come and email you.

Rach, I know I'm not very good at expressing my feelings about things like this, but I'm beginning to get really worried about my relationship with Toby. This cruise was supposed to be a chance to spend some quality time together but we've ended up spending most of it apart and then arguing when we're together. I've always known we don't have very much in common, but that was always the attraction. I never wanted to get married to a city high flier. I loved the idea that Toby was passionate about something other than money and knew he'd always take care of me in a way that no one else could. But recently it just seems like things have changed. Toby is always angry at me for something, whether it's working late or spending too much money. I've started to find him a bit dull, and it annoys me that he never wants to do anything fun anymore. I can't remember the last time I brought him out with me. In fact, I do - it was about six months ago when the two of us met you and some of the girls from school and their boyfriends for that reunion dinner. He didn't want to talk to anyone apart from that one guy who was going out with Erin, and he only warmed to him when he discovered they shared a passion for real ale. I don't think he talked to anyone else (including me) all night. And thinking about it, whenever we go out with anyone nowadays, we never actually talk to each other. We'll both have a good time but we'll spend the whole evening flitting around and talking to other people. I don't think we've been on a date for years!

Things have also not been particularly active in the bedroom recently. I'd always put that down to the fact that we've been together for so long, but now I'm beginning to wonder whether it points to something else. The last time we slept together must have been over a month ago - we haven't even managed to have sex whilst on this cruise!

Do you think there's something wrong?

We fly back from Oslo tomorrow so I'll give you a call when I get home. I could do with some advice in the meantime.

Happy Boxing Day by the way!

Isla xx

Ps I though you might appreciate reading this email from my dad. Clearly love is in the air for the over 65s at the moment!

Dear Isla

I hope you are having a lovely time and that you are enjoying yourself on the boat. I was very surprised when you said that you and Toby were off on a cruise over Christmas. I usually associate cruises with "old people". But I suppose you must be on one of those "party boats" rather than a cruise ship? I expect you will return from your break even more tired than when you went away _–_ I encourage you to try to get a bit of sleep!

All is well here. It was very quiet when I woke up on Christmas Day. I had carried on with all the usual traditions of putting out a minced pie for Father Christmas and a few carrots for the reindeer. I'd even remembered to shake up the coal in the fireplace to make it look like Father Christmas had come down the chimney! Probably a little bit _"sad"_ , but I didn't want to break the Christmas habits of a lifetime just because I was home alone!

I must admit, I was initially a little bit lonely at the thought of spending Christmas here by myself. Fortunately, Mallika next door had spotted me leaving the house the night before and she asked me what I was doing on Christmas Day. I admitted that I hadn't got any plans and so she invited me for lunch at hers. Apparently she doesn't cook turkey since she is vegetarian, but she said that she would rustle up a nice vegetable biriyani. At the time I didn't know what that was, but I thought it sounded very nice and so I accepted her kind offer.

I arrived at Mallika's promptly at midday. I took her a bottle of that lovely ice wine which you brought over from Canada and she was tickled pink with it. She said that it would go perfectly with the mango sorbet that she'd made for dessert.

I had an absolutely lovely time with Mallika. Her food was delicious, if not a little bit spicy for my tastebuds! She must have been baking all night - she produced samosas and kebabs for starters, followed by a very interesting dish that consisted of crunchie corn puffs (a bit like Sugar Puffs without the sugar) mixed in with a sweet yogurt. She then did this "Biriyani" for the main course - have you had it before? It's a rice dish with a vegetable curry on the side. You should really try it next time you go for an Indian takeaway. We then had the mango sorbet with the ice wine for pudding. It was all absolutely fantastic.

Mallka and I talked non-stop throughout the whole meal. I was worried that we wouldn't have anything to talk about but she was fascinated to hear all about the time I worked in Nigeria in the Seventies. She told me about Kerala, where she is from. It sounds like a beautiful country.

I also told her all about you. It turns out that she has two sons, both of whom are currently living abroad, but that her husband died about five years ago. Apparently, he went out for a run one day and dropped dead in the street. Absolutely shocking when you think about it - he was my age as well at the time, which makes it even more upsetting. I'd been thinking about taking up swimming in the New Year, but now I rather think that I might be better off not exercising at all!

I've got all your and Toby's Christmas presents here for when you get home. I wasn't sure what to get Toby this year _–_ I always find him so difficult to buy for. So I bought him a Complete Encyclopaedia of Amphibians and the box set of Frozen Planet on DVD \- do you think he will like that? I can always change it for something else if he prefers, although I can't exactly remember where I put the receipts now!

_Anyway, I hope you_ 're having a good time and I'll no doubt see you when you get back.

Dad x

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Oh Dear

26 December 2012, 17:42

Isla

Sorry to hear about you and Tubs. I'm sure you guys will sort it out and everything will go back to normal soon. Don't stress yourself out about it. So what if you and Toby are TOTALLY different?! That's what makes you guys such an awesome couple!! Maybe you should both sit down and have a good chat about how you're feeling. I'm sure Tubs is just as upset about it as you are. As for not having sex, I've heard that's completely normal for couples who have been together since the dawn of fucking time. I'm afraid I can't offer you any wise words on that front either. My longest relationship was with Joe, and that only lasted 18 months. Plus we broke up when we had that massive fight and he jumped out my bedroom window. So it was hardly a mature relationship to begin with!! As for my second longest relationship (Spencer) sex is literally the only thing that isn't an issue!

You and Toby are good together anyway. For a start, I can't even begin to THINK what your spending habits would be like without him. And he isn't that dull either. He's just passionate about what he does and that's a good (and rare) thing. Imagine if you lived with another lawyer who hated their job as much as you do?! You'd have shitloads of money, but you wouldn't have time to spend it and you wouldn't have time to see each other either. Plus, all you would talk about on social occasions would be work - and I promise you, that would be duller than any story about global warming that Tubs could ever come up with!

Thank you for the birthday wishes by the way! Unfortunately, I am gutted to tell you that the birthday curse has struck AGAIN. Spencer couldn't make it for lunch today because the sudden and unexpected arrival of a snowflake on the Northern line has meant that he can't get here. I honestly don't understand what is wrong with our fucking transport system. Surely in other countries, where the weather really is terrible, the infrastructure just carries on regardless? However, for some UNFATHOMABLE reason, when it comes to Britain, everything goes to shit at the first hint of trouble! Even when there are perfect operating conditions, the trains don't run most of the time because someone is doing fucking engineering work! Surely, based on the number of repairs they've carried out over the last 12 months, they could have rebuilt the entire train network throughout the whole country 10 times over?!

Anyway, rant over, the snowflake meant that Spencer couldn't get to me for our nice romantic birthday lunch. He also couldn't take the car and drive up to see me because his mum had gone to the Ikea sale for a shopping spree. I ended up being so bored that I went round my mum's AGAIN for lunch. I can't remember the last time I went to see her two days on the trot! On the plus side, I could tell she was really pleased that I'd made the effort to come over again, especially because this time I got a cab so I could return her stupid hoover. Only to discover that she'd just ordered a new one anyway. And she then couldn't understand why I got stroppy when she told me I could just keep the old one!!!

Honestly, please tell me why my birthday is always doomed to be a complete and utter failure? Thinking back to all the previous years when things have gone wrong, it's actually a pretty impressive record of fucking catastrophe. For example:

  1. 1987: Mum booked a children's musician to come and entertain me and the whole of my class. The musician had double booked and didn't turn up and mum gave us all food poisoning after making prawn cocktail sandwiches the night before and leaving them out overnight.

  2. 1989: Mum booked a bouncy castle in the town hall, owned by a man she'd met in the supermarket. It deflated from a puncture about half an hour after we had all climbed on it.

  3. 1991: We went to that dry ski slope with Faye and Imogen. Imogen fell over on the slope and broke her wrist. We spent the rest of the day at the hospital whilst she had a plaster put on.

  4. 1993: We went to Bracknell swimming pool. It was closed for repair.

  5. 1995: We went to that junior rave in Milton Keynes. Hardly anyone was there, it was freezing cold and the coach broke down on the way home. We spent seven hours stuck on the M1 before returning home at 6am and getting a bollocking from my mum for staying out all night. She also didn't believe my story about the broken down coach and grounded me for two weeks.

  6. 1999: That was the year that I booked a room above that bar in Windsor for my 18th birthday. The manager neglected to tell me that because it was a bank holiday, they were shutting at 10pm.

  7. 2001: I decided to arrange a party at that super club in London. It was shut down by the council for Health and Safety reasons the day before we were supposed to go.

  8. 2010: I organised a joint party with Simon at his amazing flat in Chelsea. It snowed all day and so none of my friends could get there. All his friends were local and so the party went ahead, which meant that all the food and drink that I had paid for went towards entertaining someone else's friends.

It's too depressing to think of others but I'm sure there are more...

Anyway, give me a call when you get home tomorrow and we can talk properly. Try to make up with Toby in the meantime!

Lots of love

Rach x

Ps. I loved the email from your dad! I can't believe our parents have got better love lives than we do! Ridiculous. And grim.

27 December 2012

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Hi!

27 December 2012, 22:16

Toby has gone to bed to have an early night so I thought I'd email you quickly whilst I have the chance. Toby's been complaining recently that I'm always emailing you. Apparently I see and speak to you all the time, so why do I have to email you as well? I've told him it's therapeutic, which I think it is really. I find that emailing you is a bit like writing a diary, only my diary has a voice that gives me advice and actually listens to what I say!

You'll be pleased to hear that Toby and I have made up. We had a long chat over dinner when he got back from his trip and I told him that I was sorry for being so irresponsible over the wine incident. He apologised for drinking too much and for passing out early on Christmas Day. Fortunately we'd actually managed to get a table for two after I'd gone to see the reservations manager and told him that my boyfriend was likely to dump me unless we could have a private meal. We didn't manage to escape our fellow cruisers entirely though - first of all Ray ambled over to give us his email address, suggesting we meet up for dinner when we got back home and then Joyce appeared to tell me (with a wink) that she'd never made it back to her room on Christmas Day and had gone straight to breakfast at 6.30am! Fortunately Joyce's presence did make it clear to Toby that I'd been honest about my whereabouts on Christmas Day, which helped get dinner off to a good start. Joyce also gave me her email address and phone number, although I was slightly more receptive to her than I was to Ray, especially when she suggested that I pop over one day to try out her vintage handbag collection!

After Ray and Joyce had left, Toby and I had a lovely meal, including a nice cheap bottle of red wine (my choice)! Then we went straight back to our tiny little cabin where we had an "early night" during which neither of us passed out for a good couple of hours! He He.

So things are good again with Toby and I, for the time being at least. I think he is also really pleased with the results of his trips out. He said he'd recorded lots of data for his latest thesis, and believes he might have spotted a species of fish that had previously been considered extinct in that particular location. He's told me not to tell anyone though - apparently the marine community would go wild at the mere possibility. So if you have any random connections to people that are into fish, please don't speak to them about it!

Are you still coming round for New Year by the way? We've had all Toby's friends (and wives) confirm, so if you and Spencer are able to come, they'll be 10 of us altogether.

Did Spencer get you anything nice for Christmas and your birthday?

Speak soon

Isla x

Ps. After my chat with Toby, I've decided that my New Year's resolution is to be much more careful with my money. I'm going to set up one of those savings accounts that take money out of your account every month. You're going to see a new me in six months time! No credit cards, no overdraft and no designer clothes sitting in my wardrobe with the tags still on!

28 December 2012

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Hi!

28 December 2012, 11:16

Glad to hear that you made up with Tubs! I know you get frustrated with him sometimes, and I know I often take the piss out of him, but I do think he is an amazing guy. Some of the things he does for you are so adorable. I think you forget. Like when he brought that amazing picnic to your work because you were stuck at the office all weekend. Spencer would never do that! He'd just take my absence as an opportunity to get battered without me!!

All is good here. I managed to see Spencer yesterday evening for the first time since before Christmas. We finally got around to giving each other our Christmas presents. He'd got me lingerie, as always, and then a negligee for my birthday to go with it. It was all very posh, which is obviously great, but it did make me wonder if he'd got it for free from Renee. But it did at least fit, so he'd clearly put the effort in to get the size right! I'd bought him a Barbour jacket and a tweed cap, which he was ecstatic with. He'd complained ages ago that when he'd gone clay pigeon shooting with Alex, he'd felt really out of place. Apparently Alex and some of his teammates had turned up with all the proper gear (Alex had just told his personal shopper to make him look the part) and Spencer had arrived in jeans, trainers and a leather jacket. So I thought I'd get him the Barbour and the cap to help him fit in. He told me it was perfect timing because Alex had just invited him to go wild boar stalking in Croatia over Easter. Another trip he had neglected to tell me about!!

I assume we're still on for New Year's Eve. I definitely am, but I'll give Spencer a call now to remind him.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: Hi!

28 December 2012, 12:23

I am fucking furious!! I just called Spencer to check he was still coming to yours on New Year's Eve and he's said that he can't come anymore. He is CLAIMING that I never told him it was definite and says he's now going to Miami with Alex!!! And he hasn't even asked me to go! I was obviously never going to pull out of coming to yours, but just to test him, I said that maybe I could come along as well. He immediately went silent and then mumbled something about it being lads only!!!

I really don't know what the fuck to do. When we're together, it's absolutely amazing. I fancy him like crazy, and I know he fancies me too because we have sex A LOT. In fact, he tells me all the time that he thinks the sex is great and that I'm the most uninhibited girl he's ever met. I'm not entirely sure I like that statement, but what the hell. I know that I've always been pretty confident in bed, but I didn't think I was anything out of the ordinary. It's not like I have any weird fetishes or anything. But anyway, going back to what I was saying just now, it's great when we're together but the rest of the time it's a complete fucking nightmare. He's totally unreliable, I can never get hold of him, and as soon as Alex asks him to do something, he seems to drop me like a wet fish. It's so fucking annoying!!

It doesn't help that Spencer and Aristotle don't get on, either. It all goes back to when Spencer came with me to the yard and decided that he wanted to ride Aristotle bareback. I obviously told him that he couldn't, because Aristotle is a sensitive boy. Before I knew it, Spencer had climbed onto the wall next to where Aristotle was standing and launched himself onto his back! Aristotle obviously went BESERK and bucked Spencer off. Since that time (which was about six months ago) Spencer has refused not only to go near my horse, but also to come to the yard. I think it's because there were other people around when he got chucked off and so he feels embarrassed. But unfortunately it means that we don't share any hobbies. The only other thing Spencer likes to do is go out and get drunk, which is obviously fun, but not the only thing you should have in common with your boyfriend!!

So, Spencer leaves for Miami tomorrow. Which means you've just got me for New Year. I hope that's okay.

Talking of men problems, I also forgot to tell you that I ran into Ben yesterday. I had gone into work to get some shoes that I'd left there on Christmas Eve and ran smack bang into him in the main entrance!! I realised as soon as I saw him how much I'd missed him. Even though I've only been off work a few days, because he hasn't spoken to me since the Christmas party, it felt like an absolute age since I'd last seen him. I obviously said hello and asked him if he'd had a fun Christmas. He said that it had been good and that he'd gone back to Bolton to see his parents and his sister, who has just had a baby. He then asked me how my Christmas had been. I could tell he was asking the question in a pointed manner and I knew that he wanted me to talk about what had happened at the Christmas party but I just couldn't. I was so embarrassed about the whole thing. I wanted to apologise to him and to ask his advice but the words wouldn't come out. So I just said that Christmas had been very quiet, and I hadn't really done very much. Ben then looked at me for about five seconds without saying anything. He then shrugged his shoulders, did a weird kind of grunt as if to communicate how disappointed he was with me, and then walked off! I was so desperate to get him to come back, that I called out to him and said the first thing that came into my head. I asked him if he wanted to come to yours with me for New Year's Eve (sorry). He turned to look at me and then just stared again, like he was trying to make up his mind about something. I just stood there as well, looking like a complete idiot. Then he came back towards me, and put both hands on my shoulders. For a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me!! My heart started pounding and I even think I MIGHT have tilted my head up towards him a little. But then he did that same weird grunt, dropped his hands and told me that he couldn't, because he was going to spend New Year with Melissa!! So I did what any mature, sensible 31 year old woman would do, and told him that I thought he was an idiot for seeing Melissa because she was clearly an empty headed, clothes obsessed bimbo, who was only interested in him because he was nice looking and earned a decent enough salary to hopefully feed her jewellery habit. Rather than try to defend her, or make a comeback (he certainly has plenty of ammunition on Spencer) he just turned around and walked off!

So that obviously left me feeling absolutely terrible, as well as a little confused. I know I don't fancy Ben, so it's not as if I'm jealous of him and Melissa, but the thought of him never talking to me again makes me feel shit. For a start, who will I have lunch with at work from now on!? Lunchtime was the only hour of the day at work that I actually used to enjoy!! Maybe I should call him? But I'm not sure he'd even take my call. What do you think I should do?!

By the way, let me know if there's anything I can do to help for New Year's Eve. Do you want me to bring anything?

Xx

29 December 2012

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Don't Worry

29 December 2012, 23:45

Rach,

Just got back home! Everything good, although lots to do before our NYE dinner...

Of course it's still fine for you to come. I will have to change the party games around a bit - I'd planned a game of Mr and Mrs, but if you're by yourself, you'll probably feel a little bit left out! I'll have a rethink. I was originally going to opt for Trivial Pursuits, but because Toby's friends are all super clever, I'm not sure that that would much fun.

I'm sorry to hear about Ben, although I confess, I don't really blame him. He knows you lied about your mum and even worse, you won't admit it to him! I guess he's just hurt because he thinks you don't trust him enough to come clean. As for the whole Melissa thing, I wouldn't worry about that. He's clearly just messing around with her to make you jealous. The only issue to consider therefore is whether or not it's working? I know you're always adamant that you don't fancy him, but you've got to admit, Ben is a pretty good-looking bloke. Not as beautiful as Spencer maybe, but still pretty easy on the eye! And he's such a nice person! Although perhaps that's the reason you don't find him attractive? You always seem to prefer a bad boy. Like Chris Leaver. You only liked him because he was five years older than us and rode a motorbike. You nearly screwed up your GCSEs because of him. And then there was that guy you liked at university - what was his name again? The one you met at Freshers' week who went to God's Kitchen virtually every weekend and used to dress up like a member of Bucks Fizz, only with a dummy in his mouth and pipe cleaners coming out of his afro?

Anyway, now that I've just insulted your taste in the opposite sex (sorry) I really must be off now – Toby wants me to unpack. We're going out for the day tomorrow - Toby is going to take me to Kew Gardens for their winter walking tour. Then we're going into town for dinner and after that we're going to see the Nutcracker at the Royal Opera House (Toby doesn't know about that part yet)!

Nothing for you to bring for New Year, although if you want to stay over, can you bring bedding and a towel? We do have some, but Toby will get stressed with all the washing afterwards - he gets torn between caring for the environment and ensuring that any towels are properly laundered at 50 degrees. It's a real dilemma for him so I'd rather not put him through it.

See you soon!

30 December 2012

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Don't Worry

30 December 2012, 8:23

As much as I hate to admit it, you're probably right. Although FYI, Simon DIDN'T dress up like a member of Bucks Fizz. He used to wear proper raving gear. But he did look like a bit of a twat. I still DREAD the day he finds me on Facebook - he's got a lot of photos of our clubbing days that I would not want anyone to see in a million years!!

Hope you and Tubs have a fun day! I'm going for a hack now with Aristotle.

See you tomorrow!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Interesting Day

30 December 2012, 23:55

Hi

I hope you had a good day with Aristotle. It's a shame Spencer dislikes him so much, although I can completely understand why. There's something about the look he gives you when anyone other than you goes near him...

As for my day out with Toby, it didn't exactly go to plan.

Toby initially woke me up having made breakfast, which was lovely. I obviously had to go downstairs to get it (Toby hates getting crumbs in the bed) but when I went into the kitchen, he'd set the table, got the papers and even bought me a beautiful plant, which he informed me doesn't need watering and is therefore impossible to kill. Whilst a large bouquet of roses might have been more romantic, unfortunately Toby thinks that cut flowers are a waste of natural resources. But the plant was lovely so I didn't really mind.

After breakfast, we got dressed and were just about to head out the door for Kew when we got a phone call. I was going to let the machine kick in, but paranoia got the better of me and I answered. It turned out to be my dad, informing us that his car had been stolen.

After Toby had let out a stream of profanities, we jumped into the car and headed over to his to check he was okay. When we got there, a police officer was already sat in the lounge, taking a statement. I don't think I could describe what happened next accurately enough to do it justice, so I'm going to have to give you a rough rendition of the conversation that took place.

Dad: Can I offer you a cup of tea or coffee, Officer?

Officer: That would be lovely, Sir. Tea would be great. And please call me Amanda.

Dad: How about a piece of cake to go with it, Amanda?

Amanda: No thank you. Just the tea will be fine.

Dad: I've got some pavlova in the fridge as well, if you'd prefer?

Amanda: Just the tea, thank you.

Dad: Biscuit?

Amanda: Tea's fine.

Dad: Apple?

[At this point, I interrupted, and managed to send my dad out to the kitchen to make the bloody tea. This simple task took him 20 minutes to complete (I promise you I'm not exaggerating)! When he came back, I realised why it had taken him so long - he had made proper tea for a start, and also unpacked his "best" china. Just locating the china would have been a feat in itself - I for one hadn't seen it in a good 10 years, which means it must have been buried right at the very back of the cupboard. After much fussing about with his new silver tea strainer, my dad eventually managed to hand out three cups of tea. In the time it then took him to pour one for himself, spoon in a teaspoon of sugar and sit back down on the sofa, all the other normal human beings in the room had finished their tea.]

Dad: Another cup, anyone?

Me: Dad, remember Amanda has a day job. I think you should hurry up and give her your statement.

Dad: Oh, I'm sorry. Yes of course. Where were we?

Amanda: You were telling me how you'd left your car in your driveway with the keys in it.

Me: What?! What did you do that for?

Dad: I didn't do it on purpose. I'd been to Sainsburys, so when I got home, I must have used the keys to unlock the boot to get the shopping out. Then I happened to see Mallika - that's my next door neighbour Amanda \- and she invited me in for a cup of chai tea. Have you ever had chai tea? It's really very good. I've bought some packets from Starbucks actually. Would you like a cup?

Me: Hold on, why did you even need to use your keys to open the boot? You've got an electronic button to open it on your keyring.

Dad: Oh I never use that. Why would I use that when I can just unlock it with the key?

Me: To stop you from leaving your bloody keys in the boot, maybe?!

Amanda: So you are fairly certain that you left your keys in the boot. Then what happened?

Dad: Well, I went next door to Mallika's for a cup of chai tea, as I said. She'd also made these lovely Indian biscuits with cardamon pods - Isla, I'll have to give you some to take home with you when you leave.

Amanda: How long were you there for?

Dad: Probably about an hour.

Amanda: And when you came out, the car was gone.

Dad: Yes. Scoundrels. I couldn't believe it when I realised. Reminded me straight away of the time that I was living in Nigeria and someone stole my scooter. Did I ever tell you about that, Isla?

Me: No Dad. But I don't think it's really relevant right now, is it?

Dad: I remember it like it was yesterday. It was the Summer of 1978. I'd gone out on the scooter to get some water, because Comfort (that was the name of our housekeeper) had missed the delivery earlier that day. It was blisteringly hot, as it always was at that time of year....

[At this point, Amanda got a call on her mobile, and she went out of the room (almost running in her haste) to take it. A short while later, she came back in.]

Dad:...and I'd just pulled up at the lights (very few people bothered to stop at lights in Lagos, but I liked to abide by the rules) and someone pushed me off my bike and rode off on it! I couldn't believe the gall! And do you know what happened when I reported it to the police?

Amanda: Mr Butterfield, your car wasn't by any chance a white J registration Volvo estate, was it?

Dad: The police wanted money! They promised me that if I gave them some money, they'd get my scooter back for me.

Amanda: Um, Mr Butterfield.

Dad: I couldn't believe it. So I told them that I would report them to their line manager. And do you know what?

Me: Dad, I think Amanda wants to speak to you.

Dad: It turned out that the policeman I was speaking to was the head of the station. Can you believe it?

[At which point Amanda, clears her throat very loudly.]

Dad: Yes?

Amanda: Was your car a white J registration Volvo estate?

Dad: Yes! Have you found it already?

Amanda: Yes, someone has just abandoned it on the M40.

Dad: That's great news! Is it okay? Has it been vandalised?

Amanda: No Sir. It appears that the car broke down whilst the thieves were making their getaway. I would suggest that your daughter takes you over to where it is and you get a tow truck to take it to a mechanic.

So the long and short of it was, Amanda left (after being given a Tupperware pot full of Indian biscuits) and Toby and I took my dad to find his car.

We eventually got to the M40 and discovered it to be in utter chaos: the abandonment of my dad's car in the middle lane, just before the M25 turnoff, had created an enormous tailback. Toby suggested that we abandon ship and come back when the police had moved the car off the road, but I was determined to get the whole incident resolved as quickly as possible and so gritted my teeth and drove along the hard shoulder until we came level with his car. I instructed Toby and my dad not to move and then I spent the next God knows how long trying to convince the police officer present that the car posed no immediate danger to the public, and should simply be pushed over to the side of the road, to enable a tow truck to pick it up. Two hours later, the mission was complete and a car that I had always hated (who drives white cars nowadays - my dad is hardly an Arab Sheik and his car is NOT a Lamborghini) was safely at the local mechanics. I was exhausted, Toby was in a foul mood and my dad, as usual, was infuriatingly oblivious to the havoc he had wrecked on our, the police's, and by association, the taxpayer's day.

We eventually got to Kew at about 2pm. We'd originally planned to have lunch there but had been so ravenous by the time we'd dropped my dad off that we'd picked up a sandwich at a petrol station on route. Fortunately, the afternoon at Kew was great - Toby absolutely loved it. It was like watching a seven-year old boy the first time he visits Hamleys. And he held my hand the whole time as well. For the first time in ages, I actually felt like I was part of a proper couple.

So all in all, we had a great afternoon. Which then promptly went downhill when I told Toby I'd booked tickets that evening for the ballet. Toby informed me that he couldn't imagine anything more horrendously dull and that I should have known that he wouldn't want to go. I accused him of being uninterested in new experiences, and told him that I'd just spent the afternoon doing something he loved, and that therefore he should now do something that I wanted to do. Toby eventually agreed, but was sulky the whole way into town, particularly because when we got there, we couldn't find a free parking space. I suggested we park at one of the meters close to the Royal Opera House, but then Toby realised that we would have to pay 20p every four minutes and threw a hissy fit. Eventually we managed to park about two miles away, somewhere in the back streets of Bloomsbury, and we got the tube to Covent Garden.

Toby perked up a bit during the meal, thank God. I'd specifically booked a restaurant that specialised in Belgium beer, mussels, chips and waffles - all the things Toby loves. So that part of the night went really well, and we were back to enjoying ourselves again by the time we'd left the restaurant and made our way over to the Opera House.

It was at this point that things started to go wrong again. My first mistake was not booking expensive seats (part of my resolution to save money). They were therefore what theatregoers would call "in the Gods" \- to the extent that I actually got mild vertigo climbing up to them. My second mistake was forgetting that Toby has a phobia of velvet. And of course, the seats were made of velvet. As were the armrests. And because our seats were so close to the row in front, our knees were wedged against the (velvet) backs of the seats in front as well. So poor Toby was forced to put his hands inside the sleeves of his jumper for the whole time he sat there. My third mistake was by far the worst - I'd forgotten that Toby has the world's smallest bladder and has to go to the toilet at least once every 45 minutes. I'd purchased tickets in the middle of a row, which meant that every time Toby needed the loo, he had to squeeze past at least 12 other people (all tightly wedged into their seats) in order to get outside.

Somehow we managed to get through the first half, but by this time Toby had had to go to the toilet three times (I blame the Belgium beer), and we had successfully pissed off pretty much the whole of our row, the row behind us (by obstructing their view) the row in front (because they kept getting kicked as people stood up to let Toby pass) and the usher (who had to keep showing Toby back to his seat). So Toby informed me in the interval that he wasn't going back in. In response, I did what all girls do in an emergency situation when they don't know what else to do - I started to cry. And although the crying had zero impact on Toby, it triggered a series of events which resulted in a complete turnaround in what had already been a very up and down day. First of all, the manager of the theatre happened to be passing when I initially started to bawl. He was clearly concerned that perhaps Toby had just dumped me and so asked me if I was okay. Then, for some reason, rather than telling him that everything was fine, I told him exactly why I was crying. For some reason, the manager found the whole story hilarious and said he would see if he could do anything to help, and disappeared. He quickly came back and asked us to follow him, which we did. And guess what? He led us into the Royal Box! He said that no one was using it for that night's performance because a royal had cancelled at the last minute and they hadn't had time to fill the seats. He then brought us a bottle of champagne and told us to relax and enjoy the rest of the show.

The second part of the performance was obviously amazing. We had the most beautiful view, Toby relaxed (even though the seats were velvet, he had enough room to stretch out and ignore it) and I was able to watch the whole show in blissful silence. I'm pretty sure that Toby's about-turn in attitude to ballet was mostly attributable to the fact that he'd had a whole bottle of champagne to himself (I was driving) and had had free and uninterrupted access to his own personal toilet but I was just happy that the day had ended on a high note. When the show was finished, Toby stood up and applauded ecstatically. It took me a while to get Toby out of the theatre because he kept getting into conversations with random American tourists who had seen us exit the Royal Box and assumed we were related to the Queen. After that, the drive home was uneventful - Toby passed out for most of the journey and only woke up to vomit at the side of the road (fortunately I pulled over just in time).

So I am now at home, Toby having passed out on the sofa. I attempted to encourage him upstairs to bed but after some cajoling which produced minimal results, I decided that at least he was lying somewhere soft and left him there. I think I might try again when I get off the computer. Toby will be distraught if he doesn't brush his teeth – he consumed vast amounts of mussels with white wine and garlic sauce.

Unfortunately I'm not sure that I'll be going to bed any time soon because I made the mistake of having a coffee just before we left the theatre to keep me awake on the drive home. I am now completely wired and don't think I'll be able to sleep for at least a couple more hours. I really don't know why caffeine has such a big effect on me - if I'm doing an all-nighter at work, one well-timed coffee will get me through until at least 6am. Which does not bode well for the rest of tonight, especially because I need my beauty sleep for tomorrow.

Anyway, I'm going to stop rambling at you now and do something useful instead. I might set the table and do a spot of baking. Actually, who am I kidding – that is clearly not going to happen.

See you tomorrow! Will call you if I need any help with recipes etc.

(A very awake) Isla

xx

31 December 2012

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Here you go

31 December 2012, 12:23

Isla

Have attached the recipes to this email. I hope you're grateful - I had to stomach a full hour at mum's just to get them. And she roped me into planting her winter bulbs whilst I was there, so you REALLY owe me one.

Do you not think that making a full Malaysian steam boat is a little complicated, given that you haven't bought any of the ingredients for it? And homemade fortune cookies are actually a lot harder to make than you think.

Still, I look forward to trying it later!

Rach

Ps Spencer has just texted me from Miami. He spent all of yesterday lying on a sun lounger next to Paris Hilton. Bastard.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Aarrghhh

31 December 2012, 15:15

Steamboat and fortune cookies abandoned. Fishmongers shut and fortune cookies collapsed halfway through cooking.

Emergency trip to Waitrose required.

Don't forget bedding and towels. Toby is stressed enough as it is - he saw me throw away 30 failed fortune cookies, and to make matters worse, I threw them in the normal waste bin, rather than the food waste bin.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

No worries

31 December 2012, 17:07

I'm not surprised - I did think you were taking on way too much work!

I've written on my hand not to forget bedding and towels.

See you in an hour!

1 January 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Sincere Apologies

1 January 2013, 17:52

I'm so sorry about New Year. If I'd known it was going to be quite as awful as it was, I really wouldn't have invited you. Please tell me that you aren't going to disown me as a friend?

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Sincere Apologies

1 January 2013, 19:03

Don't be an idiot. It wasn't THAT bad. Although when you said Toby's friends were married with children, I didn't realise that that meant they would be bringing their kids with them!

I honestly had a good time, so don't apologise. And to make things even better, it's got to be the first EVER start to a New Year when I don't have a dreadful hangover! :.)

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Honestly really sorry

1 January 2013,19:14

We didn't even know that they were going to bring their kids! I never would have dreamt of asking you if I'd known in advance. Toby has sworn to me that he had no idea either - the first we knew of it was when Sally and Kevin turned up with a bottle of wine and a nappy bag!

I suppose the two babies weren't so bad. At least they stayed upstairs. The two baby monitors were a bit irritating, and I didn't appreciate it when Sally asked us to turn the music down so that she could hear "little Robbie" if he woke up! The irony was that we could have been playing the music full blast \- little Robbie wasn't at all difficult to hear when he woke up at 10.30!

I also found having a nine year old up until midnight really hard work as well. Did you notice the way Carly looked at me when I dropped the oven tray and used the f-word in front of her? I mean, come on, I obviously didn't mean to do it. And it wasn't my fault Theresa then felt the need to repeat the word every five seconds afterwards.

On the plus side, it's put Toby off having kids for at least another year!

I saw you talking to Simon quite a lot – what was that about?

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Stop apologising!

1 January 2013, 20:12

Was Simon the guy with the ankle length black trousers and patent shoes who was married to that Victoria woman? I haven't seen a guy wear an outfit like that since we were 17! Reminded me of those guys we used to hang out with who wore their dad's work trousers and shoes to try to get into clubs. I asked him if he had a pair of Reebok classics at home, but I think he just thought I was being weird and so didn't actually answer the question!!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Stop apologising!

1 January 2013, 20:14

Yes, that was Simon. I agree, he doesn't have the best dress sense. But he does specialise in water snakes, so I suppose he spends most of his time in thigh waders. What were you guys talking about?!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: Stop apologising!

1 January 2013, 20:16

Oh, we covered a whole load of topics! I enjoyed the chat about his rescue dog. I've always wanted a dog and his stories reminded me of Aristotle. But the in-depth conversation about his baby's feeding patterns wasn't really my cup of tea! And when he moved on to talk about his wife's bleeding nipples, I started to feel slightly suicidal!! For fuck's sake!! All the other girls in the room (apart from you - I think you were in the kitchen at that point) were nodding sympathetically but all I wanted to do was run screaming out the door with my hands over my boobs...

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Re: Re: Stop apologising!

1 January 2013, 20:19

I think I would have preferred to be part of that conversation. Whilst you were in the lounge discussing breastfeeding, I was stuck in the kitchen with Dave and Carly, talking about washing machine spin cycles. I never knew this before, but apparently if you opt for a washing machine with anything less than a 1200 spin cycle, you are asking for trouble.

Did you enjoy the food at least?

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Yummy Food

1 January 2013, 20:21

Food was great!! A hot buffet was a much better idea than attempting a Malaysian feast. My mum spends all day preparing the kind of dishes you were attempting to cook in two hours! And she's been making them for the last 20 years!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

You'll never believe it **...**

1 January 2013, 21:03

I'm so annoyed. I have to go into work tomorrow! I was supposed to have an unofficial extra day's holiday from all the additional hours I put in in December, but a deal apparently came in over Christmas and Ashok emailed me to ask if I'd mind coming in to make a start on it. Normally I would have just ignored the email, but the git put a read receipt on it and so he now knows I've picked it up!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: You'll never believe it **...**

1 January 2013, 21:42

Have fun! I'll hear from you tomorrow no doubt.

Rach x

Ps. Really sorry that I forgot bedding and towels...I thought Tubs handled it quite well, considering.

2 January 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Why am I here?

2 January 2013, 11:03

Well I made it into work. Only to be told by Ashok that the deal has fallen through.

So now I'm going home again.

I plan to spend the whole day in bed.

3 January 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Quietest Day Ever

3 January 2013, 15:46

I might give you a call - I'm bored.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Quietest Day Ever

3 January 2013, 16:34

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Right, that's it. I'm going for a walk. I need some fresh air and a Starbucks.

I'm so bored I can't even be bothered to email you!

4 January 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Why Why Why?!

4 January 2013,10:19

Rach

Why is it that I have to spend such a large part of my life talking to complete and utter imbeciles? Normally it is point-scoring, arrogant wankers on the other side of deals, but at least these people have a modicum of intelligence and common sense. I have just come off the phone, having spent the last 15 minutes talking to quite possibly the dimmest woman I have ever met. I don't like to be mean, because I know that not everyone is clever and that every human being is special in a different way and blah blah blah but you've got to read the conversation I just had with this woman. I promise that I am not making it up.

By way of background, the woman I was talking to is an administrative assistant at one of our bank clients. Her job is essentially that of a box ticker, and she is supposed to ensure that the commercial terms that the bank agrees with its customer (the interest rate of the loan, for example) are reflected in the legal document that I have drafted.

The conversion went something like this:

Me: Hello, Isla Butterfield speaking.

Her: Oh hello, Mrs Butterfield, my name is Julie Kramer. I'm helping Jonathan Miles with Project Trent.

Me: Oh hello, Julie. What can I do for you?

Her: Well Jonathan has asked me to do the second checks on the facility agreement that you've sent through. I've noticed that there's a discrepancy between the description of the properties in the facility agreement and the description of those properties in the legal mortgage.

[At this point I should point out that I was having a massive coronary because I thought I'd mucked up and forgotten to mortgage a property. This wouldn't have been the end of the world because we hadn't completed the deal, but it would have been highly embarrassing, particularly because my mistake would have been discovered by a "box-ticker".]

Me: I'm really sorry, Julie. Could you let me know what the discrepancy is and I'll get it sorted out straight away?

Her: Well, if you look at paragraph (b) of the definition of property in the legal mortgage, it describes the property as "Zion House, 1-3 Red Lion Street, Seven Oaks, Kent" but if you look at the definition for the same property in the facility agreement, it says "1-3 Red Lion Street, Seven Oaks, Kent."

[At this point I take a deep breath.]

Me: Julie, I don't think it matters that one of the definitions misses out the words "Zion House". It's still clearly the same property. If anything, it's better to have a more detailed definition in the mortgage because that's the document that charges the property in favour of the bank. The description in the facility agreement just points to the fact that the borrower has to charge that property before monies can be advanced.

Her: Well, I'll have to speak to my Rigour Manager about that. It might cause us problems from an auditing perspective.

Me: Why would it cause you a problem from an auditing perspective?

Her: Because the property descriptions are different.

Me: Yes, but they clearly relate to the same property. The only reason they are different is because the description in the facility agreement is the postal address and the description in the legal mortgage is the address held by the Land Registry. But they are clearly the same property.

Her: Are you saying it's not necessary to make the change?

Me: Yes. It makes absolutely no difference. As long as you can identify the property in both documents, then that is sufficient.

Her: Well I'll have to speak to my Rigour Manager about that. We might need you to send us an email saying that it doesn't matter that the descriptions are different.

Me: I'd be happy to send an email, Julie. Or even give your Rigour Manager a call.

Her: No, it's okay, I'll speak to him. He doesn't like speaking to lawyers directly. He says that they overcomplicate matters. But just to let you know I think he will insist on the descriptions being identical. Otherwise it'll cause us problems internally.

Long and short of it is, she called me back 10 minutes later to say that for "auditing purposes" they absolutely had to have the same description in both documents. This meant that I had to get a whole load of documents re-printed and re-sent to six different parties, all of whom thought I was completely insane for suggesting that it made a difference that the property was described slightly differently in two separate documents.

Sometimes my job makes me want to kill myself.

On the plus side, I got a text from Alex, which was a nice surprise. He wants to know if I fancy meeting him tomorrow to meet his personal shopper. He's suggested that we go to Harvey Nicholls and try on some of the stuff from their new Spring/Summer collection.

It sounds like he and Spencer had a pretty amazing time in Miami. I've seen some of the photos in the Daily Mail (online I hasten to add - I didn't buy the paper) and it looks like they spent most of their time sunbathing next to beautiful women, going to amazing clubs and shopping! I can't imagine a better way to spend the New Year period (although obviously I'm not particularly fussed about the sunbathing next to beautiful women part - I'd probably put up with it though in the overall scheme of things).

Have you spoken to Spencer yet?

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Why Why Why?

4 January 2013, 11:15

No, I obviously haven't spoken to my fucking arsehole of a boyfriend. Whilst most normal people in a loving long-term relationship actually like to call each other when they get back from holiday, my boyfriend doesn't seem to give a toss!! I wouldn't even know he were back had it not been for the fact that the return of a premiership footballer through Heathrow Terminal 5 after a New Year bender appears to be newsworthy enough for both the BBC and Daybreak to show on repeat! Surely the problems in Syria should overshadow an interview with Alex fucking Robertson comparing his tan with the interviewer, showing off his six pack and talking about how his manager believes that a relaxing holiday away is actually going to improve his form?!

And I know for a FACT that Spencer came back with them because I saw him lurking in the background talking to some blond bimbo air stewardess. But NO, I haven't even had so much as a TEXT from him yet! I could've had my drink spiked with Rohypnol at New Year for all he knows and be in hospital on life support!! Or I could have been strangled by an illegal cab driver and be lying DEAD in a ditch!! Well, I can tell you something. I am NOT going to get in touch with him this time. And when he does eventually call, I am going to REFUSE to go and see him. He is going to have to get off his lazy arse to come and see me this weekend for a fucking change!

On a lighter note, I can't believe you are going shopping with Alex this weekend! Does Toby know?! Are you going to tell him?! I know he's very laid back but I don't think he's going to be too happy about it. How would you feel if he told you he was going shopping with Gisele?!

xx

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Re: Why Why Why?!

4 January 2013, 11:22

Rach

I think you're over exaggerating a little bit. Spencer knew you were coming to mine for a dinner party at New Year's and I think he's intelligent enough to know that the chances of that turning into some drug fuelled orgy, with you either in hospital or dead, is about as likely as Spencer deciding to stay tee total for the Christmas period and going to a yoga retreat for some "me" time.

As for shopping with Alex this weekend, I was obviously going to tell Toby, but given what you just said about Gisele, I think it might be best not to say anything. I don't want to worry him unnecessarily and, more importantly, I don't want him to say that I can't go. So if you don't mind, I might just say that I'm coming to yours on Saturday.

I also forgot to tell you - it's my dad's birthday on Sunday so we're going to a pub near his house for Sunday lunch. More interestingly, however, Mallika (the lady next door) is coming! My dad passed it off by saying that he's invited her because she's lonely but I wonder whether it might be their first official outing as a couple! I'm a little bit nervous about it, although not as nervous as I am about Saturday! What do you think I should wear for a day with a Harvey Nicholls stylist? Obviously nothing is going to be fashionable enough, and I wouldn't want to be too fashionable because then she might think that I don't need her help! I was thinking of perhaps wearing my skinny jeans with black LK Bennett boots and then a nice top with my Barbour jacket and animal print scarf. That would also give me the chance to use my new Chloe bag, which I plan to buy in the January sales this afternoon- I've seen it on the Selfridges website for 70% off and so I thought I'd sneak out of work after lunch to get it. Thoughts?

And I guarantee that by the time you reply to this email you will have already texted Spencer. You are rubbish when it comes to playing hard to get with that boy.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

**Don** 't go shopping!

4 January 2013, 11:34

Isla

You are the only person on the planet who would consider getting a new outfit to wear to a session with a stylist. Don't you dare buy that fucking bag!!

If you want, you could borrow my fake Marc Jacobs?! I got it in Malaysia when I went to that family reunion with my mum. I've had loads of people compliment me on it and I even went to look at the real thing once just to compare and I couldn't spot the difference.

You'll be pleased to know that I haven't texted Spencer. Partly because I have AWESOME willpower. And partly because I can't actually find my phone at the moment. Would you mind ringing me on it? I can't call it myself because I still don't have a landline!!

Call me now on my mobile!

Rach

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Just phoned you

4 January 2013,12:12

Just tried calling you - you didn't pick up...

Thanks for the offer of the Marc Jacobs bag. If it's really as good as you say I might give it a go. Although it would be absolutely mortifying if someone noticed that it wasn't real. Actually, thinking about it, I just don't think I can take the risk.

Maybe I'll just pop over to Selfridges and see what they've got in the sales? I might not buy anything at all but it would at least give me an idea of what the current fashion trends are so that I can talk knowledgeably to the stylist and Alex will think I know what I'm talking about!

In fact, I think I'm going to leave now. There are no partners in and nothing appears to be happening today so hopefully no one will notice if I disappear for a couple of hours...

Hope you find your phone!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Where the f-ing hell is my phone?

4 January 2013, 12:19

I can't find my phone anywhere!

Maybe Spencer did phone after all?! In which case he probably thinks I AM in hospital or lying dead in a ditch. What if he's calling hospitals right now, trying to find out where I am?!

Could I have left it at yours after the party? Could you ask Toby to have a look for it?

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Where the f-ing hell is my phone?

4 January 2013, 12:25

Srry - jst on v crowded bus so havin difficlty typin. Phoned Tob and he cnt find phone.

Wen did u lst use it?

Dnt wrry bout S, you no wbt he's like.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: Where the f-ing hell is my phone?

4 January 2013, 12:31

I can't find the fucking thing anywhere and I can't even remember when I last used it. The only people I ever phone are you and Spencer.

I know I'm being a bit psycho bunny boiler but I'm going to go and call Spencer on a pay phone. He might be annoyed with me for not picking up when he arrived at Heathrow. I hope he didn't go off with that air hostess!!!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Re: Re: Where the f-ing hell is my phone?

4 January 2013, 12:47

Am in Selfridges and the place is completely insane! I've never seen so many people in one place - apart from that time I took that second-class train in Guatemala and I ended up holding a baby goat for a little old man with no legs.

I'm currently hiding out in the rug section of the "Homeware" department, which is possibly the only place that isn't heaving with people. In fact, I'm sat on a particularly nice Persian (rug, not person) whilst I type this.

Do payphones still exist? I have seen them occasionally, but mainly in country villages and the occasional city north of Watford Gap service station. Even then, the phone is usually missing - aren't they just used as urinals for youths drunk on cider?

I wonder if BT charge cards still exist? If so, do you still have the one your mum gave you to use at school?!

And why on earth are you making so much effort to call Spencer? He's just landed from Miami - he's probably gone straight to bed. It's more important that you cancel your phone if you've lost it. Or try to work out when you last used it.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Re: Re: Re: Where the f-ing hell is my phone?

4 January 2013, 12:49

Had a brain wave! I checked my call list and the last time I spoke to you was at 8:22 this morning to ask about that thong we found. I don't know why I even bothered to phone you about it - as Toby kindly pointed out, I never wear lingerie that sexy and the chances of it belonging to someone else from the party were slim to none! You were mucking out Aristotle when I called.

Had better go now anyway - am starting to get looks from one of the sales assistants. I'm guessing I'm committing a flooring faux pas by sitting on a £20,000 rug to write an email. Although I could just be testing it out for all they know!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

The phone has been located!

4 January 2013, 13:02

Hey

Thanks to your AMAZING detective skills, my phone has been found at the yard. It was under a bale of hay. I must have put it there to keep it safe whilst I mucked out, just in case Aristotle had one of his tantrums and/or shat on it.

How can Toby say that you don't wear sexy underwear anymore? You spent a fortune that time at Agent Provocateur!!!

In answer to your question, it turns out that pay phones DO still exist! And I've never seen so much graffiti, sleaze, vomit and shit (which could be either animal or human) compacted into a space the size of a shower tray before. Basically, everything that could be sprayed, ejected or ejaculated out of a human body was in that phone box!!! It looked like the entrance to hell. Thank God I didn't touch anything!! Fucking gross.

I eventually got through to Spencer. It turns out he hadn't called, was annoyed I'd woken him up and can't see me tonight because he's meeting up with Alex to talk about his future with Renee!! Apparently she's pissed off by some of the photos in the Daily Star. The one of Alex putting suntan lotion on Lindsay Lohan, in particular. So, I've just spent £9.40 (the contents of my spare change piggy bank!) on a phone call to Spencer that I shouldn't have bothered making. And I think I might have urine on my new H&M coat!!

Plus I've got to go all the way back to the yard to get my phone. Am in a hump. Is that a word even?

Speak soon

Rach x

Ps. Interesting question about the charge card...If only I could remember the fucking pin I might try to use it! My mum would go apeshit if she found out though. I'm guessing the bill would still go to her? She still hasn't forgiven me for the time I used it to phone the Live and Kicking competition hotline (081 811 8181!) to try to win a super soaker. How can I still remember the number for that, but not the number for my charge card?!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Phew!

4 January 2013, 15:23

Rach

Think you mean "huff" or "grump".

Just got back from Selfridges - what a mission! That is absolutely the last time I attempt to buy anything in the January sales. You'll be pleased to know I bought nothing, apart from a Starbucks and a salt beef sandwich. And annoyingly, it took me absolutely ages to get back because the bus was full of tourists who clearly didn't know their big toe from their armpit and kept delaying the bus driver at every stop to ask for directions.

Worse still, I've now got back to my desk to find a note from Russell, informing me that he needs me to draft a debenture asap. I am very suspicious - this is exactly the way in which Russell operates. He asks you to do something which seems fairly quick and easy, lulls you into a false sense of security and then informs you that he needs you to complete a £500,000,000 deal in four days.

So now I've got to go and see him in his office. You may not hear from me for a while.

Glad to hear you've found your phone! Sorry about Spencer - he's probably just grumpy (or humpy!!) from the jet lag. I wouldn't dwell on it for too long.

Wish me luck with Russell!

Isla xx

Ps. I know I bought all that stuff from Agent Provocateur, but I am yet to wear it! Toby and I don't even get an opportunity to have a quickie nowadays, let alone the hour needed to do it justice (and besides, I need 45 minutes just to put the ensemble together - it's a bit like doing a very complicated jigsaw puzzle). Also, that outfit didn't include a thong. Much to Toby's dismay, I refuse to wear thongs - my buttocks are far too rectangular. Toby disagrees, but still finds it amusing to call me "Breeze Block" when he is feeling particularly cheeky. I've tried all manner of floor exercises to get them to round up, but they haven't worked.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Wahoo!

4 January 2013, 17:23

What a result! Turns out Russell really did just want me to draft a quick debenture! He'd forgotten to get the other Associate to do it before New Year and in the panic of getting everything completed on this deal, everyone agreed that the client (not ours) would just sign our standard document. Clearly it wasn't an important piece of security (most of the operating companies with the valuable assets are foreign, so the debenture only catches two small subsidiaries) but it's rare that people (especially lawyers) act so reasonably. I suppose these things happen occasionally! Anyway, the good news is, everything is all agreed.

Isla

Ps. I've just had another text from Alex. We're meeting the stylist at 11am tomorrow. The plan is to spend the morning trying on clothes (I can hardly breathe with excitement) and then have some lunch.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Huh?

4 January 2013, 17:45

I understood the bit about trying on clothes (and yes, the plan sounds very exciting - I am jealous). The rest of your email was just mumbo jumbo.

Enjoy tomorrow anyway!

Rach

Ps. I am going to see Spencer for lunch tomorrow. He called me back and was so cute and sleepy that I couldn't be bothered to shout at him. I did suggest that he make the effort to come to me for a change but he said he's got loads to unpack and so it made more sense for me to go to his.

5 January 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Wow

5 January 2013, 14:13

I really need to speak to you.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Wow

5 January 2013, 14:45

Where are you?! You can't send me an email like that and not add any more detail!!!

I am sat on Spencer's mum's sofa waiting for Spencer to get dressed so that we can go out for lunch. I am so fucking hungry I could pass out....

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Interesting Day

5 January 2013, 22:45

Hello!

Sorry about the cryptic email earlier, I was going to send you a bit more information but Alex arrived and so I didn't get a chance. Anyway, I am now going to give you a detailed rundown of my day. I would have phoned but Toby is home and he obviously thinks that I spent the day with you. Which I feel really guilty about, as well as other things (which I'll come on to) but I guess I'll just have to think of a way to make it up to him. He's pretty preoccupied at the moment anyway - he's back to work on Monday and he's got to do a presentation to his whole team about his findings from Norway. I don't understand why he's so nervous personally - he's collated lots of good data, particularly about the changing feeding patterns of seabirds and he's also got that new fish discovery, which is apparently BIG news. So I've left him downstairs reading through his script.

Anyway, first of all, just to let you know that today was crazy and unbelievably surreal! I'm afraid I'm going to have to bore you with every single detail - I hope you don't mind. It also gives me the chance to work out how I feel about a couple of things. And to get your opinion. Although I think I already know what you are going to say.

So here goes...

I arrive at Harvey Nicholls at 10.45 and make my way to the Personal Shopping department. However, when I give my name to the incredibly nice man at the desk, he tells me that I am in the wrong bit and that I should be in the area reserved for "special customers". So he takes me to this other room, where I am immediately presented with a glass of champagne. I do wonder whether perhaps it's a bit early to start drinking, but I'm so nervous that I end up draining the glass within about two minutes. I immediately get given another glass, but have the sense to leave that one on the table.

Ten minutes later, Alex arrives. It's a bit difficult to convey my reaction via email but OMG. I cannot believe I am actually saying this because I have never found footballers attractive and I used to think Alex was a complete tool, but I have never seen such a vision of godliness walk through a door before. In fact, I'm pretty much speechless by how good-looking he is. He's obviously tanned from Miami and his hair must have bleached a bit in the sun because it now has light brown flecks in it (either that, or he's had highlights). He's also grown it since I last saw him so it's kind of wavy and curls round his ears. He kisses me on both cheeks and asks me why I haven't drunk any champagne yet. I guess that he's referring to my full glass on the table, so I tell him that it's actually my second, and that I downed the first one a little bit too quickly. He laughs, picks up my glass and downs it in one, claiming that he can't believe he's playing catch-up at 11 in the morning.

As if by magic, our glasses are replenished and, yet again, I drink my second glass in double quick time. Alex seems to find this amusing, and asks me if all lawyers start drinking so early in the morning. I tell him that since most completions take place before midday, most lawyers do in fact start drinking at that time if the opportunity presents itself. I ask him if footballers ever drink in the morning - he tells me that if they do, it usually means they're still drinking from the night before. Before we know it, we're on our third glass of champagne. I haven't tried anything on and I'm already pissed. At 11.25 in the morning. I haven't been drunk this early in the day since we went to Magaluf after our A levels. Unfortunately, on that holiday, I had to make do with sub-standard vodka served in a bucket – this feels altogether more sophisticated (though admittedly, equally as debauched).

Fortunately, before I can move on to a fourth glass, we're interrupted by the stylist, who comes into the room like a dervish. Between you and me, I was dreading meeting the stylist - I thought she would either be like Rachel from Friends (i.e. beautiful, funny, sweet, perfect in every way) which would make me feel utterly inferior, or worse still, be one of those size zero, naturally stylish women, who have to compensate for their inhuman physical attributes by being complete bitches. However, to my immense relief, "she" turns out to be a "he". He fusses over Alex for a few seconds, gives me a hug and declares that I have perfect legs for this season's A-line skirts. He then disappears out the door, shouting that he'll be back once he's collected everything. As soon as he leaves the room, I ask Alex why he uses a male stylist. He tells me that Renee won't let him go to a woman and that Andreas is known as one of the best in the business. So I then ask him how Renee feels about him taking a female friend to see his stylist. He looks at me, smiles, and says: "I didn't tell her". He asks me how my boyfriend feels about "some guy taking me shopping". I attempt to do the same penetrating stare and sexy smile but obviously fail miserably as soon as I catch his eye. Instead, I just look at the ground and mumble that Toby doesn't know either. Neither of us speak for what feels like a lifetime (and I know that Alex is still staring at me because the floor tiles are mirrored and I can see his reflection) but fortunately Andreas charges back into the room with a rail full of clothes.

The next two hours can only be described as absolute shopping heaven. I try on everything Andreas offers me, from a plain but beautifully cut Chanel suit to an Oscar de la Renta cocktail dress which consists of a black corset with long white tutu skirt. Every outfit that Andreas presents me with is accompanied by a pair of fabulous shoes and matching accessories (one outfit even comes with a diamond encrusted Rolex). Alex and I are like little kids - trying stuff on on either side of the rail and then presenting our outfits to each other for approval. Whilst all the clothes changing is going on, Andreas offers us tips on when we should wear a particular outfit, who the designer is and what we should team it with. I attempt to give an honest opinion about everything that Alex tries on (although he looks good in pretty much everything). However, when I tell him that one particular outfit makes him look like a gay air steward on his day off (it's a tight pale blue Jean Paul Gautier shirt with navy waistcoat and fairly tight jeans) Andreas starts to giggle uncontrollably and admits that he only got Alex to put that particular outfit on for his own personal enjoyment. Alex pretends to be annoyed but I can tell that he's really enjoying himself. He even tells me that he's never had so much fun trying on clothes before.

When we've tried everything on from the rail, Andreas pulls it over to one side and says that he's got a few more suggestions. He then presents Alex with some swim shorts and sunglasses, which he claims are perfect for looking "the business" when "papped on a yacht". Whilst Alex is trying these on (and I'm trying not to stare at his six pack) Andreas asks me matter-of-factly for my bra size. I immediately panic at the thought of Alex seeing me in underwear but can't think of a quick enough reason not to tell him, so I do. Andreas disappears into another room and comes back with quite possibly the most beautiful bikini I have ever seen. The top half is black, but has a platinum (and by that I mean actual platinum) fastener, whilst the bottoms are platinum coloured and have a strange metallic feel to them. The material that they are made from is indescribably soft. I'm pleased to see that the bikini is also fairly generous on the material front - although the pants are a little skimpy, the actual top half is more like a bra in terms of style, with push up pads at the sides. I thank Andreas, but realise that there is absolutely no way that I can try this on without removing my underwear, which I am absolutely not prepared to do. Andreas realises my predicament (possibly because I am gaping like a goldfish) and tells me that the gold sheeting that is hanging up behind us (which I thought was some kind of ornate wall awning) is actually a dressing room. So I disappear inside and find myself in the world's biggest and most flattering changing area (the sort of place I imagine you go into when trying on wedding dresses in very expensive shops). There are mirrors on three sides to enable you to see yourself from every angle, and muted lighting that makes my skin look flawless. I don't think I've ever seen myself look so good in a mirror before. Mark my words, if I ever fulfil my dream of owning a boutique clothes shop, I will ensure that I have this lighting in every single dressing room. In fact, all clothes shops should have them - it might cost a bomb to install, but when I consider that the average changing room makes me look like I'm storing enough cellulite to feed a developing nation, I really think it would be a worthwhile investment – I can't be the only one who is put off buying clothes as a result.

Anyway, having admired the changing room for probably longer than is really necessary, I gingerly put on the bikini. I then look at myself in the mirror and breathe an absolute sigh of relief. Although I would have refused to come out if it had been in the slightest bit unflattering, my fear was that Andreas would have enticed me out anyway and then Alex would have seen me half naked and looking ridiculous (potentially with nipples on display). This bikini, however, is the goddess of all bikinis. Just when I think I can't possibly look any better, Andreas slips a pair of black and silver wedges into the changing room and suddenly I realise that I actually look a little bit like an A list celebrity (pre surgery, hairdresser, makeup artist and personal trainer, obviously, but still not that bad)! The whole outfit succeeds in doing what no other beach outfit has succeeded in doing before - it makes my boobs and bottom look pert, my legs twice as long and my stomach (semi!) toned.

So, imagine if you will, I'm standing in the changing room admiring myself (possibly in the same way that you do every morning as standard) when the reverie is broken by Alex asking if he can have a look. I panic - it's one thing trying on clothes like we're a couple of children stumbling upon a fancy dress shop, but it feels like an entirely different thing presenting myself to Alex in a bikini. But I'm really quite drunk from all the champagne and I reason with myself that it's no big deal - I mean, if I were shopping with you, I'd show you my bikini, wouldn't I? What's more, if I were on the beach wearing it, everyone would see me in it. Therefore, with the decision made, I ignore the little voice in my head (which incidentally sounds just like you) telling me I should just tell Alex that it isn't really appropriate and instead fling open the curtains and step outside the changing room.

As soon as I emerge, Andreas starts to clap. He tells me that he has the perfect sunhat to go with the ensemble and promptly disappears. Alex, however, says nothing and I am suddenly conscious that he is also dressed pretty skimpily in a pair of (fortunately fairly long) swim shorts. So as to avoid any further embarrassment, I go over and pour both of us a glass of champagne, suggesting that we toast a fabulous day of shopping. This seems to snap him out of it and as he takes a glass, he tells me (in a very casual manner I might add) that I look exceptionally hot, and if I didn't have a boyfriend, he would be making every effort to ensure that the next time he saw that bikini was on his bedroom floor. Now normally I would find that kind of line horribly cheesy. But when Heat magazine's "Torso of the Week" propositions you, it's very difficult to laugh it off without looking like a complete pleb. So I just say: "Thank you Alex, that's very nice of you to say so" and go to clink glasses with him.

Unfortunately, at this point, things start to go a little awry. His glass misses mine, and as a result he spills some of his champagne straight down my front. I look around wildly for a towel, desperate not to get any excess liquid on what is clearly an incredibly expensive item of clothing, and spot the linen cloth from under the champagne cooler. I go to grab it, but Alex gets there first. I reach over to take it off him, but he just grabs my wrist and pins it behind my back, pushing me up against the wall at the same time. I go to open my mouth to protest, but to my immense surprise, absolutely nothing comes out. He then, really slowly, starts wiping my neck, chest and stomach with the cloth. The whole time he is doing it, he doesn't take his eyes off me. I know I should say something, or at least push him away, but my eyes are just locked on his and my heart is hammering so loudly I briefly contemplate that I might be having a heart attack.

When I eventually find my voice, the conversation goes a little something like this:

Me: I think you got all of it.

Him: That's a shame.

Me: It's a bit of a waste.

Him: I'm tempted to spill a bit more.

Me: What do you mean?

Him: Because then I'd have to tell you to take off your wet clothes.

Me: I don't think Andreas would be too impressed.

Him: At this precise moment in time, Isla, I don't give a shit what Andreas thinks.

Then, without warning, Andreas runs back into the room with a large black sunhat and Alex moves away from me as if nothing has happened. I have no idea whether Andreas has heard any of our conversation but if he has, he says nothing. He simply makes a great fuss of placing the hat on my head and makes me twirl around in front of the mirror several times. He then tells me that if nothing else, I have to purchase this outfit.

It is this statement which makes me forget everything else that has just taken place. I don't want to ask how much it will cost, because I get the distinct impression that this is not the sort of thing that Andreas' usual clientele do (and I'm not sure that Andreas himself would even know the prices - there are no price tags anywhere to be seen). But I also know that most of the outfits that I have tried on are "remortgaging my house" unaffordable, so I take a deep breath and tell him that I'm really really sorry, but I've bought too much stuff recently and therefore won't be buying anything today. He looks about as crestfallen as if I'd told him that I enjoy drowning puppies for a hobby, but even I know that I can't agree to buy anything (especially after the incident with the Austrian wine on the cruise ship). So I give him a hug, tell him not to take it personally and that when I get paid next month, I'll come back to buy it. This cheers him up and he tells me to personally ask for him when I'm next in the shop.

Alex then reminds me that we'd planned to go for a bite to eat for lunch. I can't think of an easy way to say no in front of Andreas, so I just nod, and go back into the changing room to put on my normal clothes. He shouts through the curtain that he's got to sort out what he is going to buy first and asks me to go and grab a table at a local Italian place he knows. He makes a quick call on his phone (to someone I can only assume works at the restaurant), checks I know how to get there, and then disappears off into another room with Andreas. I emerge sheepishly from the changing room, briefly consider doing a runner, but decide I have no other option but to go to the restaurant and have it out with Alex there.

When I get there, I realise it's hardly some "local Italian" but Nostra Nostra! When I give the guy at the door my name, he immediately escorts me to a little private table at the back of the restaurant and I sit down to wait for Alex (that was the point at which I emailed you). Although our table is pretty much hidden from the rest of the room behind an incline in the wall, there is a small gap that I can look through which enables me to spy on everyone else. Within the space of 10 minutes, I see Kelly Brook, Boris Johnson and George Michael all sit down to eat (not together I should add - that would have been really weird). I also see someone very important looking escorted to the other end of the room but I can't see who it is without stretching out further. As I am in the process of extending my neck, ostrich like, as far as it will go, whilst leaning sideways on my chair to try to identify the celebrity, Alex arrives and I promptly fall off, hitting the tiled floor with an embarrassing thud. Even though everyone in the restaurant turns round to look at us, Alex finds it hilarious, telling me that if I want to spot celebrities, balancing on one chair leg on a highly polished porcelain floor isn't usually the subtlest way to go about it.

The waiter arrives with our menus and Alex orders two bellinis without any consultation. Fortunately I had spent most of the time waiting for Alex (apart from people watching) guzzling vast amounts of bottled water and so I'm now feeling much more hydrated and ready for another alcoholic beverage. So we drink our bellinis whilst perusing the menu, which incidentally, is absolutely fantastic. Alex recommends that we get a selection of antipasti and a pasta to share, which I agree to without thinking because my mind is clearly on other things. Alex orders the food, and asks the sommelier to recommend a good bottle of red wine. He also orders two more bellinis. So by the time we get to the second round, I'm really drunk (again). Certainly too drunk to have a serious conversation. Then, almost immediately, a mountain of food arrives and we spend about 20 minutes hardly saying anything at all. When we've demolished most of it (and Alex comments, as he fights me for the last crostini, that it is nice to go for lunch with a girl who actually eats) he asks me why I decided to become a lawyer. I realise that he clearly has no intention of bringing up what had happened earlier, and decide to just forget that it ever happened. So I answer his question. I also tell him (after making him promise not to laugh) that deep down, I'd always wanted to be an actress and went to after-school drama lessons from the age of six. I also confide in him a bit about Isla Deveau - well actually, to put it more precisely, I rant at him about her. To my complete amazement, he doesn't think I'm a raving lunatic, but agrees that it must be really frustrating to see someone that I went to school with (and competed alongside for the same parts) actually making it as a professional actress. He evens says (and I quote) "it must be particularly galling" (and he does use that word!) to have the same unusual Christian name as her, because it really rubs salt into the wound!

It is shortly after this conversation that Alex says he has to go and grab something from the cloakroom. Shortly afterwards, he comes back with a Harvey Nicholls bag. I'm going to write down the conversation that then takes place between us, because I don't think a simple description will do it justice:

Alex: I got you a little something.

Me: Oh, really? Why? I mean, you really didn't have to.

Alex: I know I didn't. But I wanted to because I've had a great time with you today. Besides, I think Andreas would have beaten the crap out of me if I hadn't bought you at least one of the things you tried on. He thought you were awesome.

Me: I doubt it, he must have thought I was a complete chub monster. I'm probably the first size 10 he's ever had to dress. No wonder he had to go out of the room on a few occasions to find more clothes!

Alex: Isla, you should stop putting yourself down all the time. You're absolutely gorgeous and for your information, Andreas said that he loved dressing you because you had great curves. He said that most of the women who come to him are like sticks insects. He also said that it was nice to work with someone who had something "behind the ears".

Me: Did he mean "between the ears"?

Alex: I guess so. And I know exactly what he's talking about. Do you have any idea how many women I speak to who have absolutely nothing to say for themselves? Yes, they're pretty, yes they'll do anything you want in the bedroom (or anywhere else, come to think of it) but if you actually try to have a conversation with them, you end up being bored out of your brain. And that goes for the famous ones, as well as the wannabe famous ones. It's just nice to speak to a girl and actually enjoy the conversation.

Me: I'm sure you're exaggerating Alex. Not all beautiful women are stupid. What about Natalie Portman? Apparently she speaks five languages.

Alex: No you're right, I didn't mean that. I just meant that the majority of women who come up to me in clubs are like that. The other day I was talking to this girl in Sos Si San and somehow we got onto the subject of test tube babies. It turned out this girl actually thought test tube babies were grown in test tubes.

Me: I'm sure she was a one off. Besides, by my reckoning, she might have just been a visionary \- I'm pretty confident that you'll be able to grow babies in vats by 2020.

Alex: Trust me, it's not a one off. I met another girl who thought one of the Ten Commandments was "Thou Shalt Not Drink and Drive".

Me: Well it would be very sensible if it were.

Alex: And another girl who didn't know ham came from a pig.

Me: Alright, you've made your point. But I'm hardly an intellectual, Alex. My favourite programme is Game of Thrones, and half the time I don't even understand what's going on in that.

[The conversation then strays to talk about GoT and who our favourite character is and why. A debate then ensues about whether it would be worse to die by poisoning or decapitation.]

Alex: You see what I mean? This is the sort of conversation I have with my mates, not a girl. I didn't realise before I met you that it was possible to find a bird attractive and enjoy her company.

Me: Are you saying you find me attractive? [I really wanted to bat my eyelashes at this point, but I've never understood how to do that without looking like I've got a nervous twitch.]

Alex: Isla, are you kidding me? Do you think for one minute I would have invited Rachel's friend shopping just because I thought she was interesting? Of course I think you're attractive. Actually, I think you're more than attractive. I think you're the sexiest girl in this room.

Me: First, you're drunk and I refuse to believe that statement for one second, purely on the basis that Kelly Brook is sat three tables away from us, and I know you clocked her the second you came in. Secondly, Alex, you know I've got a boyfriend.

Alex: Yeah I know, and I'm not trying to get in the way of anything with you and Tony.

Me: It's Toby.

Alex: Whatever. I'm sure he's an amazing guy and I wouldn't stand a chance anyway. But I was kind of hoping that you might at least consider seeing me again. Just as friends. I promise I won't pin you up against a wall again. I just really like hanging out with you. That's all.

Me: Well of course I'd be happy to see you as a friend. But what about Renee? You're supposed to be engaged.

[Alex then talks about Renee for a bit and it turns out he walked in on her in bed again with someone else she'd met on a shoot! Apparently she even tried to pass it off as "practising!" Honestly, some women don't know how good they've got it.]

Alex: I don't want to talk about Renee anymore. I've told her to get out my flat and that's that. So how about you open your present?

So I open my present. And it turns out to be the bikini, wedges and sunhat! I am actually speechless. I stutter some kind of thank you and Alex tells me not to think anything of it, especially since he purchased four pairs of trousers, six t-shirts, five jumpers, four pairs of shoes, two pairs of swim shorts, two jackets and a new Rolex. I tell him that that's not the point and I'm touched that he even thought to buy me anything at all. Alex looks really pleased and suggests we get some liqueurs to finish off the meal. It suddenly occurs to that he might be trying to get me drunk enough to forget that Toby even exists and so I tell him that I really can't drink anything else. He looks disappointed but then casually asks me if he can take me out for dinner one night soon. I ponder for a little bit and am about to say no, but he's looking at me with such innocent puppy dog eyes that my better judgement flies out the window and I reply that that would be very nice.

Which means that Alex and I are meeting up again.

So there you have it - a complete summary of my day. What do you think? I know I probably shouldn't have said yes to dinner with Alex but there's something about him that I find impossible to resist. And it's not as if I've any intention of cheating on Toby, so surely, as long as I keep things platonic, and don't ever drink too much in his presence, it's acceptable to keep seeing him occasionally. Isn't it? Even writing this down makes me feel guilty. What would you do in a similar situation? You get hit on by attractive guys all the time when you're with Spencer. Aren't you ever tempted to do anything about it? Not that I want to do anything with Alex. Well, obviously, I want to (who wouldn't?) but not that I'm going to do anything. God, I'm confused. Probably not helped by the fact that the first thing Toby said to me when I got home was "Isla, the toilet's blocked again. I need you to get the marigolds out because my hands are too big to get round the u-bend".

Ooh also - before I forget, when I was confident that Alex was drunk, I casually asked him what they got up to in Miami. He said that they'd spent most of the time hanging out by the pool during the day and going to clubs at night. I asked him if everyone had behaved themselves and he said that he knew I was really asking whether Spencer had behaved himself and that, in answer to that question, yes, Spencer had behaved impeccably and that he was surprised I had even thought to ask. I mentioned that you'd been a bit concerned about an air hostess, but Alex said that she had fallen for Spencer on the flight back, but absolutely nothing had happened between them. I'm pretty sure he was telling the truth - if not, he's a very accomplished liar. I also like to pride myself on being able to tell when someone is lying - I knew Lisa had shot Phil Mitchell in Eastenders before the police had even thought to question her.

Anyway, had better go - Toby wants me to listen to his presentation. It could be a long night!

Speak soon

Isla

6 January 2013

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Hmm

6 January 2013, 11:11

WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?! I'm so glad you at least turned down the liqueurs - I know what you're like after a few shots, and I can tell you, it AIN'T pretty. Don't you remember that barman at your student union pub you used to bleat on about all the time?! That time I was with you, you bought constant rounds of Aftershock just so you could go and talk to him and if I remember rightly, all you actually succeeded in doing was passing out on your friend's floor with a toothbrush in your mouth and subsequently giving yourself alcohol poisoning. So if you want my opinion, you and strong spirits simply DON'T mix!! And nor should you and Alex fucking Robertson!!!!

On a more serious note, do you really think it's a good idea to go out with Alex for dinner? This "friends" label is starting to wear a bit thin. I'm pretty sure I've never groped you in a changing room. Jesus, Isla, you're fucking nuts. You've got to stop seeing him.

And how the hell are you going to explain about that bikini?! Toby thinks you're on a self-imposed shopping ban! And don't even THINK about claiming that I bought it for you! Firstly, buying your best friend a bikini is fucking weird. Secondly, he knows I'm broke.

Honestly, Isla - the situations you get yourself into!!!

Thanks for speaking to Alex about Spencer - I also questioned him about the air hostess and he gave me the same story, so it must be true. I don't think guys are sophisticated enough to come up with the same lie, are they?

Enjoy lunch with your dad today! Do you want to know how my lunch went with Spencer?!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Hmm

6 January 2013, 12:01

You sound like my mum (with a few more f-words). Stop worrying. Nothing actually happened between Alex and I and nothing is going to happen between Alex and I. I probably just read a bit too much into the whole champagne spilling incident. I'd had quite a lot to drink by then. I really don't see the harm in going out for dinner with him - it's not for a couple of weeks anyway because we've both got stuff on and I can't really book things up during the week, what with work being like it is. As for the bikini and other apparel, I don't think you realise just how much clothing I hide from Toby! It'll just slip into the Narnia part of my wardrobe, like all my other new purchases...

How was your day with Spencer? I sense from the way you phrased that question that you've got something to tell me. Please don't say he ended up serving you a bacon buttie on his sofa?

Just off for lunch for my dad's birthday now - am actually a little bit nervous!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

You'll never guess

6 January 2013, 13:14

Well...since you asked, lunch with Spencer was fantastic!! Partly because it was lovely to see him (he looks so hot with a tan) but also partly because he then told me he's planning on taking me to Mexico for a two-week holiday!!! At first I thought he was bullshitting, but after I'd interrogated him, it seems that he is actually telling the truth! And to make things even better, we are leaving in three days' time!!!

I am so excited I can hardly type. I haven't had a holiday in so long and Spencer has told me that I don't have to pay for a thing! Which means that the only cost I need to worry about is getting someone to look after Aristotle.

So you see - you're not the only one being spoilt!

Xxx

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

No way!

6 January 2013, 14:11

In pub toilet so have to be quick \- but OH MY GOD THAT IS UNBELIEVABLE!!!! Spencer has gone right up in my estimations.

How long has he been planning it for?

Xxx

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: No way!

6 January 2013, 14:56

Well obviously Spencer never really plans anything so I get the impression that he came up with the idea about five seconds before he asked me. But I know he must be serious about it because we've already booked the flights!! I even had to phone Neil at home to clear the holiday. Fortunately it wasn't really something he could say no to. Not only have I built up about 30 days, but it's also really quiet in the world of commercial plumbing and sanitation devices in January.

Spencer has told me he's going to plan everything, including all the accommodation. He says he felt really bad about abandoning me for New Year (I think it was the cracked nipple story that did it) and he wants to make it up to me. He also said he's due an amazing bonus this year and he wants to spend it on something the two of us can enjoy!!

I absolutely cannot wait - we leave on Wednesday! I can just see myself relaxing on a private beach in a five star hotel for two weeks. With a waiter standing nearby to polish my sunglasses and serve me daiquiris! I hope Spencer books somewhere nice. Maye he'll ask Alex for a recommendation?! I quite fancy Tulum - I hear Cancun is a bit "commercial" these days...YAY!

Let me know how you get on with your dad! Does his new lady have your seal of approval?

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Interesting Day

6 January 2013, 21:29

First of all, I'm so excited for you! I bet Spencer will book somewhere really nice if he's going to spend his whole bonus on it. I am just looking at the Mr and Mrs website now and there are some beautiful places in Mexico. I personally think the beaches on the Caribbean side look better and I agree you shouldn't go to Cancun - apparently it's full of Americans and is very unauthentic.

Are you going to find out where you're going in advance or will it be a surprise?

Lunch with my dad was actually very pleasant! Mallika is a really nice lady. She doesn't say very much (but then my dad makes up for that anyway) but she has a lovely smile and was really friendly. She asked me lots of questions about my job (and didn't look bored when I told her) and about Toby. She did ask rather too many questions about when Toby and I were going to get married, which made things a little uncomfortable, especially when I told her that I wasn't even sure that I was ready to get engaged. Toby then made the situation worse by saying that he'd marry me tomorrow but I wasn't ready to give up my freedom! But after that bout of awkwardness had subsided, things went really well. Even my dad was on his best behaviour. He still took 15 minutes to decide what he wanted to eat, and then told the waitress an "amusing" story about the time he unknowingly ate baby camel whilst on a business trip to Libya, but when he started saying yes to every side order the waitress offered him, Mallika whispered something in his ear and to my complete amazement, he said that he'd changed his mind and would just have a bowl of mixed veg!

So yes, the meal went without a hitch – it was also nice to see my dad looking so happy. We've now agreed to go to Mallika's for a curry next Saturday.

Anyway, am off to bed now for an early night - so depressed that I'm back at work (again) tomorrow!

7 January 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Amusing

7 January 2013, 11:29

Hi

There is an all-out war going on in my office! Sally is having a fight with the man from IT! I think it's about to get physical!

Trouble has been brewing for a while now. Sally's "issues" with Gordon all began when she got back from her secondment. She'd borrowed a work laptop and blackberry whilst she was away so that she could keep in touch with the office. Now normally we all get given blackberries and laptops automatically on qualification, but Sally hadn't because she'd joined just as IT had begun a cost cutting exercise, which meant you only got them once you were two years' qualified. Anyway, Sally had finally managed to get both when she went on secondment, because she claimed that she didn't have broadband at home and would otherwise be unable to keep track of what was going on. Clearly the thought of a solicitor being out of contact for six months was too much for even IT to stomach, so she got her way.

Anyway, when she got back from secondment, she didn't want to give the laptop and blackberry back. So she kept quiet and ignored the repeated emails from Gordon asking her to return them. Occasionally she would reply, simply saying that she was involved in a big deal and needed to keep them until it had completed.

As of this morning, Gordon lost his patience and stormed into Sally's office, demanding that both the blackberry and the laptop be returned and that any further use was "unauthorised and therefore in breach of contract". Sally got stroppy, and asked Gordon to email her the relevant clause of her work contract which stipulated the breach. So Gordon flounced off and came back with a copy of the office-wide email circulated a year ago, which highlighted and underlined the passage in relation to use of IT equipment. At this point, Sally, who is usually the most placid of creatures, completely lost it. She escorted Gordon into Charles' office and demanded that he tell Gordon that her blackberry and laptop were indispensable to her job. Charles did as he was told (Sally is quite scary when angry) and Gordon left our floor with his tail between his legs.

Sally obviously thought she had won the day. But then, out of the blue, Gordon top trumped her when she received an email (copying in Charles) from Andrew Lionel, the Managing Partner of the firm!! I have no idea how Gordon pulled it off (I imagine Andrew has downloaded porn at some point and so Gordon is blackmailing him) but it was a genuine email addressed to Sally from Andrew that said that IT policy was to be strictly enforced, without exception, unless expressly authorised by the "Executive". Charles immediately backed down, and mumbled some excuse to Sally, saying that he'd bring it up at the next partners' meeting, but that until then, she would have to "play ball". Sally is obviously infuriated. Gordon then sent her a further email, saying that her blackberry and laptop would be "deactivated" at midday, and that she was to bring both pieces of equipment to Gordon personally before then. Sally has just told me that she refuses to take anything to Gordon out of principle. She's going to leave both the blackberry and the laptop on her chair and then go out for lunch. I expressed my concern that Gordon would wire up the laptop with some kind of improvised explosive device in her absence and then detonate it when she returned. However, after some discussion, we concluded that although prone to taking extreme measures, Gordon was unlikely to resort to any form of terrorist activity and that therefore, Sally should go ahead with her plan.

Can't believe there's been so much excitement already and it's only Monday!

How is your day going?

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Dull Dull Dull

7 January 2013, 11:43

Hi

Am pleased that there's so much going on in your office. Absolutely nothing has happened here today which is of any fucking interest whatsoever. At this precise moment, I am liaising with our "designers" on the final layout of our new spring/summer brochure and trying to decide the best way of presenting our new line of Japanese self-cleaning toilets. I use the word "designers" in the loosest sense of the word because they consist of a husband and wife team who have about as much artistic talent as a fucking chimpanzee. Whenever I tell them about an idea I've got for a particular layout, they just look at me blankly and say "We could do that, yes". I then tell them to go away and put together some options, after which they send me back exactly what I suggested, without offering any creative input of their own whatsoever. Fuck knows what they'd do if I asked them to use their imaginations!! In fact, I might do that next time, just to see what they come up with!! Morons. I've suggested we use another company (I've seen a great place in Maidenhead which is run by two graduates and is just as cheap) but Neil refuses. Apparently we are Michael and Gwen's "best client." Something that I take to mean "only client".

I also need to come up with some ideas for a new "freebie" to be handed out at our next roadshow. It's going to take real creative genius to beat last year! The toilet roll with our logo on proved to be a real winner! I'm considering buying some pens that make a toilet flushing noise when you shake them. Unfortunately the prototype that came through this morning was a bit of a let down (it sounded more like a sneeze than a toilet flush). I could always resort to rubber ducks again, but we did those a while back and I don't think they're very original.

I don't suppose you have any ideas?!

By the way, I have now discovered that Ben is officially dating Melissa. The first thing I saw when I got to my desk today was her fawning all over him at his desk. I couldn't even bring myself to say hello, so it appears we are not talking anymore. I wouldn't mind so much but he was literally the ONLY thing that used to keep me sane at work. Who the fuck am I going to talk to now?! AND, to make matters even worse, Linda has invited me to some self-help group for coping with schizophrenia! I made some excuse about not being ready for that sort of thing, but I don't think this is the last I'm going to hear about it.

Anyway, gotta get back to my brochure!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Oh dear

7 January 2013, 12:07

How about some kind of decorative plug?

Sorry to hear about Ben. I know you won't want to hear this, but it was probably about time he moved on. I know you bleat on about the whole "we're just friends" thing but the guy was clearly besotted with you, and you took full advantage. Like when your car engine blew up on the A404 and you were stranded at 2am in the dark - it was Ben who you phoned to come and rescue you. And not only did he pick you up, he also arranged for the tow truck to collect your car and take it to the mechanics.

So all in all, I think it's a good thing that he's finally found someone who's willing to return his affections. Perhaps you should just leave well alone for the time being. I'm sure you'll be friends again at some point.

Oooh, just seen a very angry Gordon storm past my office. Must be on his way to see Sally!

Speak to you later.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Brilliant

7 January 2013, 14:06

Isla

You are a fucking genius. The decorative plug idea is brilliant! Who says that lawyers don't have any imagination! That's the rest of my day sorted! You have saved the day. The only thing I'd come up with was a portable toilet brush, but I refuse to go down that route because toilet brushes are the most DISGUSTING product ever invented. I mean, how the fuck can people think it's hygienic to have a brush sitting in their bathroom which is covered in shit?! How is that any different to wiping the toilet with a tissue and leaving it on your toilet floor?? And why the hell do they always make the bristles white?!!!

I'm glad to hear you're so happy for Ben and his budding new relationship with Melissa. It just makes me want to puke!!!! I honestly can't believe he is going out with her!!!! The number of times we used to take the piss out of Melissa's obsession with lip gloss and the fact that she looks like she's just walked into a wall (empty dazed expression and incredibly flat profile). I honestly thought he had more taste. He also told me that he wasn't a big fan of blonds, but Melissa's hair is pretty much white!!!!!

In an attempt to make myself feel better, I spent the whole morning talking loudly to Linda about my upcoming holiday to Mexico. I know that Ben and the Meerkats were listening because they were all trying very hard to look busy. I know the behaviour well, because I do it all the time. It involves staring at the computer with a slight frown on your face and occasionally typing a random assortment of words on the keyboard. If you're trying really hard, you follow that up with a quick flick through a brochure. I may have exaggerated my trip a bit though. I think I said that we were going to the same private villa in Tulum that Brad and Angelina stayed at. Although thinking about it now, if Spencer is spending his WHOLE bonus on it, that's not impossible, is it? He might even get Alex to book it for him!

Right, had better go now. I want to look online for the perfect bikini for my holidays. And perhaps more importantly, I have a plug to design!!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Brilliant

7 January 2013, 15:13

Rach

I sense from your overuse of exclamation marks (remember we decided that it was a sign of limited intelligence when people did that?) that you are distinctly unimpressed with Ben at the moment? It sounds to me like he's either: 1) using Melissa to get back at you; or 2) using Melissa to try to get over you. Either way, you need to just leave him alone.

I am totally with you on the toilet brush thing. I initially refused to have one in our bathroom, but then Toby managed to find one on Amazon with black bristles. His ingenuity does amaze me sometimes.

Unfortunately I may now be incommunicado for the rest of the day - Charles has organised a team briefing on an "exciting" new deal that has just come in. I may not resurface for some time.

Isla x

Ps. Shall I ask Alex if Spencer has mentioned Mexico to him? Maybe I could drop a few hints that I think it would be a good idea if he organised the accommodation? Am sure it'll be a fantastic trip whatever happens - as long as he sticks to five star and does a little bit of research, I don't think you can really go wrong.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Plugs Plugs Glorious Plugs

7 January 2013, 16:22

Don't bother speaking to Alex. I just called Spencer to ask if he'd like me to look into accommodation and he told me that he's got everything sorted. He even said he's got a few activities in mind that he'd like us to do. I wonder if he'll hire a yacht for the day?!

You'll be pleased to know that our promotional plug is designed and on order. Neil loved the idea. He really needs to get a life.

Fingers crossed you don't have to work too late tonight! I am leaving early to pack. Must remember to get some books to read at the airport. Although I'm hoping we won't be doing much reading if I'm completely honest!!! (FYI - exclamation marks used here to express sexual innuendo, NOT to illustrate lack of brain cells).

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

I want to cry

7 January 2013, 18:47

I have just emerged from the briefing and it appears that my life is over for the next two weeks. One of our major clients is doing a massive refinancing of their $500 million loan facility (a mammoth job in itself) but worst of all, they want to do it prior to their AGM. WHICH HAPPENS TO BE THIS FRIDAY. Apparently the first draft loan agreement is going to come in from the banks' lawyers tonight, and I need to turn it around WITHIN 24 HOURS!!! (FYI - explanation marks used here to express sheer horror of situation, rather than mental incapacity. Also please can we stop justifying our use of multiple explanation marks now - I apologise for insinuating that you were stupid - clearly your ability to design a decorative plug in four hours is ample evidence that you are anything but).

To make things worse, hardly anyone is around to help me and the trainee that Charles has put on the deal is absolutely useless. He may have gone to Oxford, but I've never met anyone with so little common sense. I have a sneaking suspicion he may have studied "Estate Management" for his degree. Charles, however, thinks the sun shines out of his bum hole. I think this is partly because he went to the same college as Charles (and is therefore automatically a better human being because of it) but also because he is extraordinarily good with clients. We once took him to a completion dinner at Gordon Ramsey's and Andrew (that's his name by the way) had the clients eating out of his hand with tales about his gap year in Argentina playing polo, the week he spent yachting in Croatia and the time he picked up a supermodel at the Cannes Film Festival. They were so impressed that they promised Charles the next deal that came up.

So now I'm stuck with Andrew, which is crap and to make matters EVEN worse, I have no one decent supervising me. The senior associates are all on other deals and Charles thinks I am responsible enough to run this deal by myself (his exact words were: "It's only a refinancing, so you'll just be repeating everything that was done before"). How little he knows...

Since tonight is probably my last evening of freedom for probably the next two weeks, I am going to leave the office now and attempt to have a nice civilised dinner with Toby. Hopefully the fact that I've had a decent amount of time off will mean that he's less likely to throw a tantrum about how ridiculous my working hours are.

Any chance you can send me one of your newly designed plugs by the way? I need something to make me giggle when I'm stuck here every night next week until 4am.

(A very despondent) Isla x

Ps. It has just occurred to me that I might not get to speak to you before you go away! I know it sounds ridiculous, but when this all kicks off tomorrow, it's going to be game over on the communication front. Therefore, if you want any advice about what to pack etc, PLEASE call me tonight. If you phone up when I'm in the middle of negotiating a random covenant with some cretin on the other side and ask me what sun factor is most appropriate for Mexico, I might have to put the phone down on you.

PPs. And have a fabulous time!

PPPs. And email me whilst you're away. I'm sure they have Wifi in the sorts of hotel you'll be staying in and besides, you'll probably want a break from all the sex at some point!

8 January 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

It has begun **...**

8 January 2013, 7:23

Hi

I thought you might like to know that the first draft of the facility agreement appeared in my Inbox at precisely 05:43 this morning. I know this for a fact because the familiar "bing" sound that my blackberry makes to tell me that I have an email woke both Toby and I up. I then couldn't go back to sleep because I was worrying too much about it, so in the end I decided to get up early and come straight into work. I am now sat at my desk, with my trusty Starbucks hazelnut cappuccino at my side, staring blankly at the 283-page loan document that I've just printed off.

I also think I'm coming down with something. My throat is really sore.

Ps. I hope you got everything sorted last night. As I mentioned on the phone, I really don't think you'll need to take a hairdryer with you - hotels always have them and it's one of the things that Toby gets most annoyed about me packing. You could also probably forego things like shower gel and bath foam, since all decent hotels provide them as freebies anyway.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Honestly??

8 January 2013, 10:22

I'm guessing that if your loan agreement came in at 5.43, then that must mean the lawyer on the other side of the fence (is that the right expression?) was up all night drafting it. My God, I never understand you lawyers. Just out of interest, why didn't your client decide to sort his money out a week earlier? Wouldn't that have saved everyone a lot of time and effort?!

And if you are feeling ill, you should be at home in bed, rather than in the office!!

Thanks for all your advice last night by the way. I also spoke to Spencer and he said that he was packing light because we would be "travelling about a little bit". I've now got an image of us driving through the hills of Mexico (I assume they have them??) in a convertible Beatle, taking in the various ruins (I know they have those!) before ending up in a beautiful cabana on a private island, where we stay up all night talking, before eventually watching the sun rise across the Caribbean sea....

OMG - you don't think Spencer is going to propose do you?!

Good luck with your deal by the way. I will try not to bug you too much on email today. Hope you feel better too.

Only a few hours to go until I leave work for two weeks of glorious sun!!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Illness is for the weak

8 January 2013, 10:43

The subject heading of my email is not something I believe in personally - it's just one of our many "unofficial" firm slogans. Others include: "Working harder to make partners' lives easier" and "Home? What Home?"

Amazingly, one of our actual advertising straplines invented by our marketing team to convince university students to apply for a training contract at our firm was: "Not a jacket on chair kinda culture". This was complemented by a picture of five very attractive men and women sat around a table in our staff cafeteria, drinking extra frothy cappuccinos, with expressions of calm serenity on their faces. I couldn't believe it when I saw it. I told Mary (who runs graduate recruitment) that had they wanted to be more factually accurate about the work ethos of our firm, the slogan should have been: "No need for a jacket - you'll never get to go outside", accompanied by a picture of a couple of balding men looking pompous and some pasty young women looking like they wanted to punch their colleagues' faces in. Mary admitted that they'd used a certain amount of artistic licence. I told her I thought fraud was probably a better word.

Anyway, back to the subject of my email - me not feeling well. Although I appreciate your concern and agree with you that I would be far better off in bed, nursing my sore throat with a therapeutic dose of Homes Under the Hammer, unfortunately this is not likely to happen in a hurry. The firm's attitude to sickness is simple: not a problem if you're not busy (whenever we have any form of financial crisis and the credit markets shut down, you'll notice lawyers often get struck down with a very timely bout of flu) but if you're working on a transaction that requires your immediate attention, unless you've been hit by a bus or inflicted with a potentially fatal (or at least debilitating disease) there is absolutely no reason why you shouldn't be at work. Actually, thinking about it, I'm pretty sure that even if I were hit by a bus, I'd still be expected to stagger in, although they might make an exception if I'd actually stopped breathing for any period of time.

I know you probably think I'm exaggerating, but we did have a trainee a while ago who had a bible fall on her head during a completion. Despite telling Russell that she had flashing lights in front of her eyes, he still made her work through the night. The next day it turned out she had serious concussion and got signed off work for two weeks. Rather than feel bad about it, Russell just complained that he'd have to find someone else to do the post-completion paperwork!

So the long and short of it is, I'm stuck here for the foreseeable \- at least until my temperature hits 106 and I start fitting.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Illness is for the weak

8 January 2013, 10:56

What the fuck is a bible doing in a law firm in the first place?! And how did it come to fall on someone's head?!

Did you make that story up? I can't believe that any company would force a person to carry on working if they had concussion.

At my work, it's pretty much taken for granted that at the first sign of a bug, you take at LEAST two days off. I tend not to do it too often because my mum used to make me go to school when I was half-dead, so I have her voice shrieking in my head the minute I even think about phoning in sick. Safe to say, others in my team are not so diligent. Linda is by far the worst. She's already had a sick day this year and we've only been back from the Christmas break five minutes!!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Cross my heart hope to die (because then I could get a sick day)

8 January 2013, 11:01

I promise you, I'm not joking! I have so many other stories that I could tell you, but unfortunately I have to get back to work.

And a bible is a file of completion documents. It is in no way holy, I can promise you that. Bloody heavy though....

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Hurrah

8 January 2013, 15:46

Phew, just got my comments sent back to the other side (no fence involved) so I can take a quick rest for a few minutes (just enough time to email you and then grab a bag of crisps out the vending machine) before the first draft intercreditor agreement arrives, along with all the security documents.

Going back to what you said earlier, I agree that it is utterly ludicrous for our client to give us a week's notice to get this deal done, but unfortunately it's not that uncommon. I know for a fact that our client and the banks have been negotiating the basic terms of the refinancing for months and, although they claim that they instructed us "the moment the outline terms were agreed," I would bet my life on the fact that if they hadn't wasted quite so much time on the golf course, it could have been done a lot quicker.

DO NOT get it into your head that Spencer is going to propose. Not only have you not been going out that long, you don't even live together! I know from experience that cohabitation is absolutely essential before you even think about spending your life with someone. Just because you think you love someone with all your heart does not mean that you can live together in perfect harmony. There's no way, for example, I could ever live with you, and you're my best friend in the whole wide world.

So stop thinking about proposals and concentrate on having a great time.

Right \- am off to grab those crisps. I've had my eye on a packet of salt and vinegar Hula Hoops all morning. I'm absolutely starving!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Oh no

8 January 2013, 15:52

Crap - six more documents have just landed....I'd better tell Toby I won't be home tonight...

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

What's wrong with me??

8 January 2013, 16:01

Why couldn't you live with me?! I could live with you - in fact, I think I'd enjoy it. I could borrow all your clothes and we could share makeup and stuff.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: What's wrong with me??

8 January 2013, 16:10

Precisely.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: What's wrong with me??

8 January 2013, 16:11

Oh I see. Well I shan't take offence because I've got other more important things to worry about. Like, for example, how many sarongs to take....

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Hasta La Vista Baby!

8 January 2013, 16:59

Right, am off! I'll see you in two weeks' time. Try not to work too hard.

Am so excited about this holiday. I really think it could be the turning point for my relationship with Spencer.

Lots of love

Rach xx

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Jealous

8 January 2013, 17:09

So jealous. Enjoy yourself though \- you deserve it. xx

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

I don't believe it!

8 January 2013, 19:10

My bloody trainee has gone home! I absolutely cannot believe he has done this. I am so angry I could pop. One minute I left him drafting subsidiary board minutes, the next thing I know I get a call from the trainee on the other side asking where he is. I subsequently discover, after making several calls to his mobile, that he is on a train home. Apparently he thought that what he was doing could wait until tomorrow! Honestly! When I was a trainee, I wouldn't have dared leave my desk until I was expressly told that I could go. So I told him (in my best headmistress voice) to come back immediately. I initially thought that he was going to say no, but I quickly cut in to tell him that we had a conference call scheduled for 9pm and that Charles would expect him to be there. As soon as I mentioned Charles' name, he was immediately contrite and told me that he'd be back in half an hour. What an absolute dick. I don't feel bad at all about the fact that there's a good chance Charles won't even be on the call. He, like my errant trainee, has also gone AWOL.

Right, had better get back to work. I've only reviewed two of the six documents so far!

Just in case you do read this before you go - have an amazing holiday.

Don't forget to email me!

Isla xx

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Normality resumed

8 January 2013, 20:02

Trainee has returned and is finally doing his job.

Charles has been located at a client event and is coming back for the call.

I have now reviewed four of the six documents and am pleased to say that only a few amendments are required.

Things are looking up!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Cr*p Cr*p Cr*p

8 January 2013, 22:56

I have just returned from the most awful call ever. Thank God Charles was on it, otherwise I think I might have cracked and jumped out the nearest window. If they weren't sealed shut, that is – I now understand why they are.

It turns out that at the same time as refinancing his loan facilities, our client is also in the process of purchasing a rather large commercial property in East London. Now, under the terms of the existing facility (and the new one) in order to use borrowed money to buy the property (which is what he is doing) he has to present the bank syndicate with, amongst other things, a certificate of title (this is a legal summary of the property that highlights any issues) and a surveyor's report and valuation. As soon as the property has been purchased, our client then has to grant security (i.e. a mortgage) over the property in favour of the banks.

It emerged on the call that my client has to exchange contracts on the property THIS WEEK, or the seller is going to walk. This means that we now need to get all the property work done before the refinancing takes place. Which means that I now have to phone up a property lawyer first thing tomorrow and tell them that the finance team are yet again screwing them up the bum crack by putting them on a job where they have to do approximately two weeks' worth of work in two days.

To his credit, Charles tried his best to convey that doing this amount of work in such a short timeframe was nigh on impossible, especially given that certificates of title could only be produced once searches had been done on the property by the local council, amongst others. Now I don't know whether you know anything about local authority lawyers, but they are an entirely different species to those of us who work in the City, or any other private practice lawyer for that matter. For some reason they tend to be over the age of 50 (or at least I assume they are, because they all have names like Gavin and Brenda), they take two-hour lunch breaks and then leave every day at 4:30 on the dot. What's more, if you are lucky enough to find a specific contact to deal with, if it transpires that they only work three days a week, you can bet a year's salary on the fact that your work won't get done until they get back. Even when they jobshare! The concept of a handover between colleagues simply doesn't feature in their world. We once had a trainee whose parents were both local authority lawyers. On one occasion, his mum phoned up Charles to demand to know why her son wasn't home in time for his tea. On another, the trainee claimed he had a routine dentist appointment at two o'clock in the afternoon and then didn't come back for two days!

Anyway, Charles expressed his concern that there would be issues getting these searches done in time. I immediately perked up, hopeful that the refinancing would get put off for another couple of weeks, regardless of the AGM. Unfortunately, our client then told us to "hang on a moment" and promptly disappeared. When he re-joined the call about 10 minutes later, his absence having cost him about £1000 in wasted legal fees, he triumphantly told us that he already had all the relevant searches, because his in-house lawyer had requested them a couple of weeks ago when they first looked into purchasing the property.

So it then looked like everything was achievable again and we went back to negotiating the finance documents. We were almost on the verge of getting everything agreed when our client dropped his second bombshell of the evening i.e. that he had also "forgotten" to tell us that the property was not going to be owned by Trent Corporate plc (the name of the UK borrower) but Trent's subsidiary, which happens to be located in Guernsey. So now, not only do I have to get a poor property lawyer on board first thing tomorrow, but now (because we cant give legal advice on foreign companies) I also have to find a local Guernsey law firm to give us a bloody legal opinion!

To make matters even worse, the banks' lawyers then piped up to tell us that this Guernsey company wasn't currently a party to the facility agreement (it was previously carved out as a non-material subsidiary) so the facility agreement and security documents would have to be changed as well. The bank's lawyers promised to turn the documents around straight away and Charles kindly volunteered me to review them as soon as they came back in - whatever time that might be.

Anyway, I really don't know why I'm telling you all this - I know you have no idea most of the time what I'm talking about and I also know that you're off to Mexico first thing tomorrow. But there's something incredibly therapeutic about writing this all down - I feel a lot calmer now!

Have also just got a text from Alex, asking if I fancy dinner on Friday. I think I'll just give him a quick call to let him know that I'm seriously out of action at the moment, but that I might be up for something next week. I could do with a celebratory glass of champagne when this is all over!

Right - had better get back to my review now!

Speak soon

Isla x

9 January 2013

To: n.butterfield@brs.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

News from Gatwick

9 January 2013, 6:02

I can't believe I have such a fucking IMBECILE for a boyfriend. Spencer has just turned up AN HOUR before our flight, only to realise he's FORGOTTEN HIS FUCKING PASSPORT!

To: n.butterfield@brs.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: News from Gatwick

9 January 2013, 6:31

You will never guess what has happened. It turns out that because I'd already printed off my boarding pass, I have to fly BY MYSELF and Spencer isn't joining me until tomorrow!!! We tried to get him on an earlier flight, but everything is booked up.

What the fuck am I going to do?! I've never been out of Europe by myself, let alone travelled to a non-English speaking developing country on the other side of the fucking world! And isn't Mexico City really dangerous?! It would serve Spencer right if I got kidnapped and killed by some machete wielding cocaine-guzzling pimp.

I can't believe that my holiday has started so fucking badly! Spencer even had the cheek to find the whole thing funny! At least he had the decency to stop laughing when I started to cry. To top it all off, I ran off through the departure gate in a mood and now that I've calmed down enough to want to talk to him, I can't fucking get back out!!! And I don't think Spencer has his phone with him either because he isn't picking up!! RAGE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

To: n.butterfield@brs.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: News from Gatwick

9 January 2013, 6:44

Shit - I've just realised that I don't know where we're staying in Mexico City! What am I going to do when I get there? Is there any way you can try to get through to Spencer to find out? If you email me, I can hopefully pick it up on my phone when I land.

To: n.butterfield@brs.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: Re: News from Gatwick

9 January 2013, 6:58

Oh God - they've just called my flight. I have to go. If I never see you again, tell Spencer I hate him. And please look after my horse - my mum will probably sell him to the local Chinese takeaway otherwise.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Stop panicking

9 January 2013, 7:23

Rach

Well, my sympathy for you was a little dampened by the fact that having gone to bed at 4.30 this morning, I was then woken up by the continual "ping" of your many, many emails. I immediately thought that something else had come in on this deal and by the time I'd jumped out of bed and grabbed my blackberry, I was far too pumped up with adrenaline to even think about going back to sleep. Why on earth did you email my work address?! You never do that. And I can't believe IT let your emails through with all the swearing. Clearly Gordon needs to devote himself to doing his actual job, rather than chasing junior solicitors for illegal laptops and blackberries. Anyway, yet again, I am back at work at a ridiculous hour.

Rant aside, I cannot believe what an idiot Spencer is. I mean, come on, who forgets their passport when they are going on holiday?! Please don't panic though - you will be absolutely fine. You'll just land in Mexico City, get your bags and then get a taxi to the hotel. You can then sunbathe by the pool for the day until Spencer arrives. There is absolutely nothing whatsoever to be concerned about.

I'll call Spencer now to find out which hotel you were booked into. I will then ask my secretary to find out what you need to do when you get to the airport in terms of taxis, getting currency etc. This is the sort of job she relishes so by the time you land, you'll have a concise to-do list waiting for you.

If you have any problems in the meantime, get a phone card and call me on my work number.

Good luck!

Isla x

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Here you go **...**

9 January 2013, 11:14

Hi,

Okay - have managed to get through to Spencer. You were right - he'd left his phone at home and so I've only just spoken to him. I was tempted to give him a piece of my mind, but I didn't want him to put the phone down on me, at least not until he'd told me where you were supposed to be staying. He did also sound genuinely upset about the whole thing - he must have told me he was sorry about a hundred times!

Now, don't freak out, but it turns out that Spencer didn't book a hotel for your first night. Apparently his plan was to "travel about a bit" and he therefore wanted to keep things "flexible". I couldn't help but say that a sensible person would probably have booked a hotel for the first night, and he admitted that he'd probably been a little bit too relaxed about the accommodation side of things! So I told him that he'd better go online and book you somewhere straight away. He replied that it would probably be better if I were to do it (in his words, in case he made a "cock-up") and offered to give me his credit card number. I agreed that this was a much better idea, and took his details.

As soon as I put the phone down, I went online and booked the Four Seasons. I then went to see Veronica, who contacted the hotel and organised a pick-up for you from the airport. From the way she was acting, anyone would think you were Rihanna - by the time she'd gotten off the phone, the concierge had promised not only to send one of their best cars, but also to make sure that you were picked up by the driver the moment you came through Arrivals. We then realised that you probably wouldn't have enough money with you when you arrived to pay for meals etc and so Veronica got on the phone to Western Union and wired you $250 via Spencer's credit card.

So, your instructions when you get to the airport are therefore as follows:

  1. After you pick up your case, go immediately to the Arrivals area, and look for a gentleman with a Four Seasons badge called Paulo who will be holding a placard with your name on it. Do NOT get into a car with anyone else!!

  2. The driver will take you to Western Union before driving you to the hotel. When you get to Western Union, you just need to say that you are collecting $250 in cash (I'll email you the reference confirmation separately in case you need it) and show them your passport. You will not need to make any payment - you'll just need to sign for it.

  3. Return to the driver, go to the Four Seasons and enjoy yourself!

I can't think of anything else you'll need, but if you do get stuck, call me on my work mobile number.

Right, unfortunately I have to get back to work now. That temporary break from reality was so much fun \- I might become a travel agent!

Good luck!

Isla xx

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

I love you

9 January 2013, 23:35

Isla

You are the BEST friend ever!! I got your email as soon as I landed. I have never been so pleased to read anything in my entire fucking life. Everything you told me to do worked out perfectly. I met the driver, collected my money and then got checked in at the Four Seasons, all in the space of an hour! AND, when I told the receptionist what had happened, she told me that all men were "bazturds" and upgraded me to a suite! So I am now holed up in a ridiculous pad like something out of Cribs, typing this email on some snazzy keyboard attached to a 50-inch television.

I am SO happy that I didn't have to find my own way to the hotel. As soon as I arrived, I realised that I was never going to be one of those dirt-loving, shawl-wearing, dreadlock-growing travelling types. First of all, it took me 15 minutes to locate my suitcase. It then took me another 20 minutes just to find the Arrivals hall. I eventually located my driver after wandering aimlessly around the perimeter of the entire airport, only to realise that he was waiting for me right by the exit to Arrivals, just as you said he would be. Oops!

Mexico City is a lot nicer than people make out. It's quite dodgy in places but it certainly has atmosphere! I went to see the cathedral after I checked in and then went to the local market. I didn't buy anything (it was all made in China!) but in an effort to get down with the locals, I bought a taco from one of the street vendors. I covered it in what I thought was guacamole and happily tucked in. Turns out I'd covered it in green chilli sauce and nearly blew my fucking head off. Now I know I can handle spice (my mother eats raw chilli as a snack) but I actually thought I was going to DIE. My stomach was in agony and I began to worry that I'd ruptured an organ. Fortunately, thank GOD, it has now calmed down. But I am NOT looking forward to it coming out the other end!

Now that I've ventured out and avoided being raped or pillaged, I think I'm going to spend the rest of the day by the pool. Unfortunately I don't think my $250 is going to last very long. I had a look at the menu and it costs about $50 for a piece of raw tuna and a lettuce leaf. Lucky it's all on my idiot of a boyfriend!!

Think that's all I've got to say for now. Thank you SO MUCH (again) for taking care of everything.

Lots of love

Rach xx

Ps. Got a text from Spencer - he will be here tomorrow afternoon. I think I might have forgiven him by the time he arrives.

PPs. Did you know that you have to throw used toilet roll into a bin here rather than down the loo?! Apparently it's something to do with the sewage system. GROSS.

10 January 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

**Phew!**

10 January 2013, 00:43

Hi

Glad to hear all is well - I knew it would be.

I am still at work, obviously.

The worst part of my day so far was definitely calling up the property partner to explain the work that needed doing. He was fairly relaxed about it (it's not him that has to do it) but when I got a call from the Associate who'd been handed the file, I could virtually feel the voodoo curse leaking down the phone. To make me feel even worse, she is not only a really nice girl, but also five months pregnant! How any partner could possibly justify putting a pregnant girl on a deal that clearly demands about 36 hours' work in two days is completely beyond me. When I'd updated her (and she gone off to top herself) I then sorted out the Guernsey lawyer. I felt less bad about this one since Guernsey lawyers notoriously have it pretty easy (and they pay hardly any tax). I also don't particularly like the guy they've given the work to, which makes me feel much better about shafting him.

Fortunately, after making those calls, I managed to spend the rest of the day agreeing documents without incident. Andrew even came in to tell me that he'd got all his stuff agreed as well. So, one more call to the other side and then it's home to bed!

Try to keep me updated on your trip anyway.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Final draft facility agreement

10 January 2013, 13:56

Dear Zack,

Please find attached the final draft of the facility agreement for your review. As I explained on the call earlier, our client has now accepted our amendments to EBITDA but continues to be of the view that a 6-month look forward certificate is not necessary.

If you have any other queries, please let me know. Alternatively if this is now agreed, please confirm.

Kind regards.

Isla

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Final draft facility agreement

10 January 2013, 13:57

Shit! Sorry - sent that to you by mistake! Please delete immediately and don't look at it - if you do I might go to prison for life (or something equally as dramatic).

I am so tired I can't even think straight anymore.

11 January 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

The final countdown

11 January 2013, 1:04

I thought you might like to know that the final slog has begun - all documents have now been agreed, the property stuff has miraculously been signed off by the banks (I have more admiration for that pregnant Associate than I've had for any other human being EVER) and the Guernsey stuff is sorted as well.

So now I just need to get our Reprographics department to destroy a rainforest the size of Brazil to get all the CPs printed and then it's just a case of sorting out the completion room for signing tomorrow morning. That reminds me actually – I need Zak to send over the engrossed finance documents.

I hope Spencer found you okay - remember to let me know how you're getting on!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: The final countdown

11 January 2013, 3:31

Everything ready for tomorrow morning - just off to have a nap in one of the beds upstairs. Am so pleased I packed an overnight bag - I couldn't stand the thought of having to nip out tomorrow morning to buy a new top and a pair of pants (and yes, you are hearing correctly, I am too tired to even go shopping)!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitnoggie@surf.com

For God's Sake

11 January 2013, 4:42

Some bright-eyed trainee on the other side has spotted that Andrew had got one of the company numbers wrong - it means amending every document which features that company and reprinting. Unfortunately for Andrew, the late night lady from Reprographics had to go home sick (probably from exhaustion after printing all our documents) and so he's going to have to reprint and rebind everything himself! I do pity the work of a trainee sometimes...

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

I don't believe it

11 January 2013, 6:44

I am in the bloody Reprographics department helping Andrew work out how to use the binding machine. I am at a complete loss as to how to work it - you know my practical skills are limited at the best of times.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Finally

11 January 2013, 8:42

The binding is finally finished. Andrew was initially no use at all and he even had the cheek to say that binding documents was not part of his job description. At that point I completely lost it, told him to stop being a brat and added that funnily enough, at three years' qualified, it wasn't something that I relished having to do either. He had the grace to look sheepish and apologise. I told him that I'd forgive him if he could work out how the bloody binding machine worked. At this point I think he realised the necessity of the task at hand and sorted it. He then began binding like a man possessed, whilst I ferried the documents to the completion room. Now it's just a case of waiting for everyone to turn up for the signing.

I'd better go fix my make-up. I look like an illegal immigrant who's been hiding under a lorry for 36 hours.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

It's over

11 January 2013, 12:34

Thank God - it's over.

I can't stand completion meetings - I spend the whole time panicking about the relevant documents not being there, panicking again that they've not been signed properly, and panicking again before dating them. Whilst I was panicking, Charles (who looked fresh as a daisy) was chatting amicably with the client. I even heard Charles say he was surprised at what a smooth ride it had been! Of course it's been a smooth ride for him - he hasn't bloody done anything!

Anyway, everything got signed, our client did a small speech thanking the banks for their continued support and then Charles signalled for the champagne. I felt sick after one glass and excused myself. Charles had the decency to let me go, possibly because my face resembled that of someone who had been living rough for a month. To Andrew's credit, he looked remarkably fresh faced for having had no sleep and, as I left, heard him joking with our client about his last all-nighter at a Full Moon party in Thailand. They may as well make him a partner now.

So, I am going home to bed, and am hoping not to wake up until Saturday.

Since I haven't heard from you, I assume you're having a great time.

Isla xx

14 January 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Hi

14 January 2013, 9:32

I think this is the longest that I've ever not heard from you!

All is good with me - I had a thoroughly enjoyable weekend doing absolutely sod all. Toby and I stayed in our pyjamas all day on Saturday. He did suggest at one point that I should really clean our bathroom but I think the death stare that I gave him convinced him not to press the point.

Rather annoyingly, Toby is away on a work trip this week so I'm home alone. It's typical that the week I'm working every hour under the sun, he's at home feeling neglected, but when it's all over, he tells me has to go to a building site in Coventry to give his opinion on some nesting kestrels!

Fortunately Alex phoned yesterday to see if I fancied a drink so I'm going to go and meet him on Thursday evening.

Have no other news to tell you and since I'm not sure that you're picking up emails, rather than bombard you with hundreds when you sign on, I'll try to keep communication brief!

Speak soon anyway!

Isla

15 January 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Bored

15 January 2013, 14:15

I have surfed every website known to man. I even spent two hours pretending to order £10,000 of designer clothes from Selfridges online store just so I could create my ideal Spring/Summer wardrobe. It was lovely. I then spent another hour on Rightmove looking at London flats that I can't afford. I then filled in a survey on my feelings about the NHS, gave £30 to charity and ordered a bulk load of goji berries from some random site in China. I'm now worried that I might have given my credit card details to a fraudster - I really should be more careful and only order from Amazon.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Still Bored

15 January 2013, 16:35

How did I spend my time before email existed?

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Hi again

15 January 2013, 17:15

How did I spend my time before you existed?

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Hi again

15 January 2013, 17:27

I hate the fact that apart from you, all my friends are lawyers and so no one is ever able to come out in the evenings! I know it's usually me that has to work late and so I can't really complain, but you'd have thought that out of 16 lawyers scattered across every firm and discipline in the City, at least one of them would be able to meet me for dinner tonight! It's a true sign of what this profession is becoming. Such a shame as well - I'd found so many discount vouchers for restaurants online.

I'm going home now.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Hi

15 January 2013, 23:53

Am on very bad internet connection \- electricity keeps cutting out.

Unfortunately things are no

16 January 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

What?

16 January 2013, 9:27

Rachel

I'd rather you hadn't sent an email at all. You're not on an episode of CSI - I don't want to wait for the next instalment.

What is going on?!

17 January 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Cold Turkey

17 January 2013, 9:36

I am trying to wean myself off emailing you.

I have become a Facebook addict instead. It's a bit like going from Class C to Class A overnight. I'm not sure I'm likely to do any work ever again.

Talking of Facebook, why is it that the people you really want to know about never post anything at all, whilst the ones you are only friends with because you didn't want to upset them by rejecting their friend request seem to spend their whole time posting thoroughly pointless statements about NOTHING! I don't care that Trixie from school appears to have some kind of growth on her leg and feels the need to tell the whole world about its progress. I don't care about Sarah's seemingly never-ending supply of baby photos. And I certainly don't give a toss about Amanda's desperate need to tell the world about the importance of friendship/motherhood/charity/the environment, especially because they all end with the ominous warning that if I don't repeat or forward something to at least 10 people, I probably won't make it through the day. What I really want to know about is Tamsyn's really hot new boyfriend or the fact that Lucy seems to now be best friends with one of the members of Girl's Aloud, but those sorts of people don't post anything EVER.

It's so irritating.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Guess what?

17 January 2013, 15:33

Alex just sent me a friend request! How cool is that? He's told me that I have to agree not to post anything publicly (he's registered under an unofficial name). I'm telling you though - if the papers got hold of some of the photos he's got on there, they'd have a field day. There's a particularly bizarre one of Alex dressed as the Mad Hatter and Spencer dressed as Alice.

18 January 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Last night

18 January 2013, 10:15

Rach

Thanks for your text - am so glad to hear you are still alive! I was getting worried about you. Your text was a little cryptic though - what did you mean when you said you were on the chicken bus?!

Had a nice dinner last night with Alex - he's so much fun to go out with. Partly because we get to eat at the most amazing places (and he doesn't seem to mind when I order tons of food) but he is interesting to talk to as well. We got on to the subject of time abroad and I told him all about my year in Italy and how I got that job at Caffe Nuovo running student nights. He told me he'd never had a chance to do a year out and he's hoping that when he retires from football he'll be able to do something then. So then we came up with loads of crazy ideas as to what he could do and we settled on him looking after turtle hatchlings on the Galapagos Islands. He then asked if I'd like to go with him and I, assuming he was joking, told him that I'd jack my job in in a second if I was given that sort of once in a lifetime opportunity. In response he gave me another one of those long penetrating looks and said that he couldn't imagine anything more enjoyable than doing something like that with me! The only thing I could think of to say without it actually becoming quite serious was to tell him that I had a phobia of slow-moving objects and so I wouldn't be very good with the turtles. Which fortunately made him laugh and we promptly changed the subject.

Anyway, since Toby is still going to be away this weekend (bloody kestrels have become a bit of a sensation and are causing all sorts of problems with this building development) Alex has invited me out with some of his friends tomorrow. I don't know where we're going yet - apparently it's a surprise.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Don't

18 January 2013, 23:15

Internet fucking awful but this is the only place I could find which has it.

Things aren't going quite as I expected - first of all

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Fucking hell

18 January 2013, 23:18

Sorry keeps cutting out and sending email before I

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Fucking hell

18 January 2013, 23:21

Sod it I'll text you. Otherwise I

20 January 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Dying

20 January 2013, 14:34

Why are my hangovers suddenly so bad? I'm sure when I was younger I didn't wake up feeling so absolutely vile. And I used to stay up later.

Toby has left me a whole list of household jobs to do this weekend (I made the mistake of telling him I was bored) but right now the thought of turning on a hoover makes me feel like passing out. And to make matters even worse, I told my dad I would go and see him for dinner! I really do wonder what possesses me sometimes.

Right, first of all, I have a confession to make. Although your text expressly told me not to, I did go out with Alex last night. I was going to listen to your advice but then Toby phoned me at 5pm yesterday, drunk from the pub. He said he'd been invited out with the guys from the building site on a pub-crawl around Coventry. The fact that he was already wasted at 5pm was not a good sign, particularly when he informed me that he still had another 10 pubs left on the list. So when I got off the phone I thought to myself, why on earth should I not be allowed to go out with my friends as well? I take your point that Alex is male but it doesn't bother me when Toby goes out with his female friends. Granted, Alex is an incredibly good looking, incredibly rich, premiership footballer, whilst most of Toby's female friends either live in trees or grow their armpit hair, but that's not my fault, is it?!

So I phoned Alex and told him that I was still up for coming out. He told me that he'd send a car round at 7pm to collect me.

The night therefore began with a blissful ride into London in an enormous black Mercedes. I was then deposited outside a fairly non-descript front door somewhere in Mayfair and told to ring the bell. When I did, I was greeted by a ludicrously large man, who took my name and ushered me inside. My coat was promptly taken by a stunning blond with an Eastern European accent, who escorted me up a winding staircase into the "drawing room". This is where I saw Alex for the first time, sitting with three other guys who I immediately recognised, although not by name. It turned out that two of them are Spurs players and the third plays for the England cricket team. If only I bothered to read the back pages of Metro I might not have embarrassed myself by asking them what they did for a living...

Now, bearing in mind that the first drink I was given was the world's strongest vodka martini, you can kind of understand how the evening (along with my memory) degenerated fairly quickly. I have only been able to piece everything together by writing each thing that I remember down, and looking through the contents of my handbag. From this, with skills worthy of Inspector Holmes, I have been able to deduce the following:

  1. We ate dinner in the dining room of the member's club - I now remember this because I had the best shepherd's pie I've ever had. I also recall asking to try everyone else's food, which apparently didn't go down too well with Vince, who "doesn't like to share".

  2. We drank a lot of champagne - I know this because it appears I insisted upon keeping every cork. I also vaguely recall telling Matteo when he ordered a bottle of Kristal that he had no imagination. He told me he would drink whatever I ordered as long as it was expensive - I suggested we ask the waiter to make sangria using the most expensive bottle of red wine on the menu. This did NOT go down well with the sommelier but I can now say with a small amount of pride (but mainly shame) that I am perhaps one of the only people in the world to have had sangria at £7,500 a pop. Matteo (who is Spanish) told me it was the best thing he had ever tasted and that it was going to be his new tipple from now on.

  3. We went to a club. I don't know where, when or at what point, but when I got in the shower this morning, I discovered that the whole of my back appeared to be covered in little black "VIP" stamps. I now vaguely recall accompanying Vince outside every time he went for a cigarette (I have no idea why) and insisting that the doorman stamp us in a different place each time we went out.

  4. We ended up in a casino - I only know this because I discovered a casino chip for £1000 in my bag. After freaking out and frantically checking all my debit and credit cards online for evidence of mass withdrawals, I eventually worked out (with great relief) that I must have been gambling with someone else's money. Either that or I stole it, which probably means there's now a warrant out for my arrest. Either way, I'm going to have to return the chip to its rightful owner at some point.

Despite managing to piece all this together, I can't fathom for the life of me how I managed to get home. I assume Alex must have arranged a car, but all I know is I woke up face down in my hallway this morning next to an empty bag of Haribo.

I am now going to have a very, very long shower - right now the thought of going round my dad's fills me with dread.

I think you said you're back on Wednesday – I am looking forward to hearing all about your trip!

21 January 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Bored Again

21 January 2013, 9:44

Hi

Wow, I hate Monday mornings. I am sat staring blankly at the 15 emails that came in over the weekend, on a new deal that it appears I am now working on. To make things worse, it's a "Russell deal", which means I'm going to have to do all the work by myself, whilst he goes out and chats up his client.

Toby got in late from Coventry last night. He was in a foul mood - he is never good with a hangover. Even when I told him I'd seen a newspaper article online about him and the kestrels in last week's Birmingham Post, he failed to perk up.

Dinner at dad's last night wasn't great fun either. He'd decided that he wanted to turn out some of his stuff and I, stupidly, agreed to help him.

Within 20 minutes, I remembered that turning out anything with my dad is the world's most infuriating task. Every time we came across a book, he had to sit down and have a quick read. Whenever I suggested that a particular object could be taken to the charity shop, he'd look at me aghast and say that he couldn't possibly get rid of that particular item because his friend/cousin/mother/ex-wife bought it for him for his birthday/Christmas/retirement and he can't get rid of something so sentimental. When I find a box of old videos and propose that they are thrown away, he tells me that he'd like to have a look through them first in case there's anything that could be transferred over to a DVD. When I find a box full of old photos, even though I know for a fact that they're doubles and already organised into photo albums in the loft, he refuses to believe me and suggests that I just move them from one corner of the room to another, to a rapidly growing pile which he has labelled "to be gone through in more detail." Finally in exasperation, I move on to a large pile of leaflets and suggest that these, at least, could be put straight into the recycling. After looking over each leaflet at the speed of a snail with ME, he decides that he doesn't want to get rid of any of them, because he plans to revisit some of the places and might need directions to get there! I ask him if he's ever heard of the Internet - he ignores me (my dad has wonderfully selective hearing) and instead becomes engrossed in an old programme from the musical Cats. In a final effort to persuade him to throw something away, I suggest that we could, at the very least, shred some of his bank statements (which go back to 1979) but he refuses, claiming that they might be useful if he's ever investigated by HM Revenue and Customs. At this point, I lose the will to live and suggest that we break for dinner. After dinner (another variety of mince stew which I have not had before - I didn't know it could be so successfully combined with left-over Chinese takeaway) we resume for another hour. By the end of the evening, we have one small bag of rubbish to show for our efforts, consisting of nothing more than a broken vase (my dad and I physically grappled with it as I said it couldn't be fixed) six leaflets for National Trust sites that he apparently doesn't want to go back to, an old crab shell (which he was using as a storage container for rubber bands) and a dried up bottle of Tipex (which he only agreed to get rid of because I pointed out that he had a mega pack of six on the shelf). I left his house at around 10pm in a terrible mood (not that my dad noticed - he was too busy looking through a pile of photos from 1987) and went straight to bed when I got in.

God, I'm really looking forward to you coming back. It feels strange not having you around. I have tried not to email you too much in your absence, but looking over my "sent" items, it appears that I failed miserably. I might try to see who else is interested in corresponding with me for a couple of days!

Looking forward to your return!

Isla x

22 January 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

You've been replaced (only joking)

22 January 2013, 13:44

So, the task of finding a new friend hasn't exactly gone to plan...

I initially decided to resume contact with some of the other girls from school and emailed Denise and Imogen. Both replied, which was nice, but after a couple of emails back and forth, it soon became abundantly clear that we didn't have anything whatsoever in common anymore. Have you spoken to either of them recently? Just in case you haven't, they now don't do anything other than look after (and talk) about their children. Their days are 100% devoted (with a passion that I find incredibly disconcerting) to changing nappies, going to baby classes, feeding children food at various stages of decomposition and making cupcakes.

Fortunately, although I had suggested meeting up for dinner in my first email (I regretted that one straight away) both Imogen and Denise politely refused - apparently Denise doesn't venture into London anymore (her husband thinks the tube is a health hazard) and Imogen is pregnant again and doesn't like eating out for fear of transferring some kind of disease to her unborn child.

After attempting to rekindle friendships with old school friends with zero success, I thought I'd try a couple of people from my Gap year. Luckily, I had the good sense to look at their profiles on Facebook first, only to discover that one of them lives in a field and now goes by the name of "Moon" and the other is so into triathlons that I felt exhausted just looking at her profile picture. Not that I have anything against either hippies or athletes - I just have an inkling that neither is likely to jump at my suggestion to check out the new pop-up burger bar that opens in Battersea next week.

So I'm going to give up the search for new friends and get back to work!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Oops

22 January 2013, 14:52

So Alex and I are now emailing each other. I didn't mean to email him. I was just really really bored. And he replied pretty much straight away - it turns out that when he's not training, he really doesn't do very much! It's probably a good thing that you're back tomorrow because I do find his emails a little bit distracting. Here's the email chain:

Me: I can't believe you're just sitting about at home doing nothing. You have the best job in the world!

Him: I'm not doing "nothing". I've been at training all morning. I'm knackered.

Me: I've seen footballers "train". Don't you just skip around a field for a couple of hours?

Him: Cheeky cow! It's a lot tougher than that.

Me: It doesn't look it. It's hardly an army assault course.

Him: Well maybe you should come over and show me how it's done.

Me: No thanks. I have no desire to prance about with a ball all day. I also have zero eye-foot coordination and would just embarrass myself.

Him: You can prance about with my balls anytime you like. We don't have to play football anyway. There are plenty of other ways to keep fit...why don't you just sod off work for the day and come over?

At which point I felt uncomfortable and told him that I had to get back to work.

Email flirting is okay, though, isn't it? Surely it's basic human instinct to want to flirt with someone like Alex? Perhaps I'm just feeling a little bit neglected at the moment. Toby and I don't really flirt anymore. I guess it's hard to when you've been together for so long. I once tried to get Toby to role play with me in a bar but he just said that he couldn't see the point of pretending to be someone else when he was perfectly happy with who he was and that I should be too. I said that the whole point was to do something different and add a bit of excitement to our sex life but he then thought I was telling him that our sex life was boring and got in a mood!

Anyway - had better go - I've done very little work today which means I'm setting myself up for a fall....

Xx

23 January 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Guess what I did last night?

23 January 2013, 9:44

Well, I finally caved and agreed to watch the new Isla Deveau film with Toby last night. I wouldn't bother going to see it if I were you. It would have been really good, were it not for the fact that Isla was on screen for pretty much the entire film. I honestly cannot see why everyone is suddenly saying she's the next big thing - she's far too skinny and I find her face totally uninspiring. Obviously she's pretty, but nothing compared to you, for example. Toby thought she was brilliant. Unfortunately, it also appears that everyone else in the audience agreed with him - she was all people were talking about when we left. So that put me in a bad mood, made worse by the fact that my blackberry was going crazy throughout the whole film with emails from some lunatic client who had apparently decided that the small job I'm doing for him had to be completed that night, despite the fact that he hasn't contacted me for two weeks, hasn't seen a single document and hasn't even confirmed with the bank how much money he intends to borrow! Clients like him drive me crazy. Fortunately Russell was copied in on the emails and for once he told me that he would take care of it - I think he's regretting ever agreeing to take this guy on – he is clearly insane. But safe to say, the barrage of emails hitting my inbox just when I was watching a film starring my nemesis was not good timing. I didn't really talk on the way home. This obviously set Toby off and he began complaining that when I'm not at work I'm always grumpy.

So all in all, not a great evening.

Are you back yet by the way? I want to hear all about your trip! I'm guessing it was amazing since I hardly heard from you at all.

Xx

24 January 2013

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Back

24 January 2013, 9:23

Hi

I'm back!!

God, jetlag is the worst thing in the world. I feel like I've had a fucking lobotomy.

Thank you for all your emails by the way. Not. I've come back to the fullest inbox I've ever had! And almost every email is from you!! I suppose I should feel flattered (or harassed). But at least I've now got something to do today!

I'm guessing you want to know how my holiday went? I was going to call you last night but I was too tired to move. So I thought I'd summarise the highlights for you now.

Highlight Number 1:

Since Spencer had not booked a single fucking hotel, we spent a large amount of time wandering aimlessly about with our luggage, looking for accommodation that often didn't exist because Spencer's Lonely Planet dated back to 1992. Of the hotels we did find, none were five star. They were all closer to two. The one in Veracruz had wires hanging out the ceiling, a broken fan and a shower consisting of a bizarre looking pipe jutting out the wall. The one in San Cristobal smelt of mould and had a particularly evil cat hogging the sofa in the reception area that would attack me whenever I walked past. The one in Oaxaca was so unpleasant that I insisted that Spencer go out and buy me a sleeping bag to sleep in so I didn't have to touch the sheets. The one in Palanque had a shower in the bathroom that managed to hit every part of the room apart from the area where I happened to be standing. Finally, just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, when we got to Tulum, Spencer suggested that we spend the night in a romantic beachfront cabana. Little did I realise that that meant SHITTY HUT with no air conditioning and holes in the roof. First of all, a massive tropical storm hit and the bed got drenched. Then, as soon as it had stopped raining, I got attacked by a plague of mosquitoes.

Highlight Number 2:

Despite me thinking that Spencer would hire a car and a driver, we actually travelled around the country by BUS. Many of these were night buses, which were apparently essential to enable us to get from Mexico City to Cancun within the two-week period. Why it was so essential to travel across the entire fucking country in such a short period of time, I will never know (I don't think Spencer really thought it through). But we did it. In a fucking bus. Which would have been largely okay, apart from the fact that all Mexican bus drivers tackle mountain roads like they are on a 3D simulator ride. At one point I felt the tire of the bus come off the edge of the fucking cliff. Secondly, Spencer always seemed to book us seats right next to the toilet. Consequently the air around us smelt like the bog of eternal stench. Finally, although every bus showed a film to entertain us on the long journey, they all played the SAME ONE on repeat. That well-known classic "Billboard Dad", starring pre-pubescent Olsen twins. All this, however, paled into insignificance when we got bumped off the first class bus and ended up on the Chicken Express. I have never experienced anything like it in my life. First of all, the driver stopped every 20 minutes for a fag break, picking up various randoms on route. As a result, the journey took twice as long. He also didn't seem to care that the people he collected had no seat and no money, and so it wasn't long before the bus was heaving. We were then bombarded by street sellers pushing their way down the aisle, selling the biggest amount of crap I'd ever seen (your dad would have loved it). To top it all off, small children were wedged into whatever crevice of the bus that would fit them. At one point I was actually holding someone else's baby!!! The whole journey was utter fucking chaos.

Highlight Number 3:

After a snorkelling trip to the caves in Tulum, with an instructor who claimed to have pulled off the biggest magic mushroom heist in UK history, Spencer swallowed some of the water and ended up with a parasitic stomach bug. It wasn't pleasant. Enough said.

Highlight Number 4:

In an effort to be active and "get back to nature", Spencer booked us on a white water rafting trip in Xalapa. Although I didn't fall in, a little boy called Pablo had a great time filling his helmet up with water and dunking it over my head. He didn't tire of this for the whole fucking two-hour journey. We then finished the trip at a thermal spa that I couldn't go in because I'd burnt my knees red raw in the sun. Spencer did go in and spent the next two nights smelling of egg.

The only enjoyable activity we did was horse riding in San Cristobal. I realised however that it wasn't going to be the most organised of outings when I was put on the slowest, laziest horse they had, whilst Spencer had the equine equivalent of the girl from the Exorcist. The highlight of the trip was when the guide declared in front of our whole group that Spencer was incapable of riding a horse by himself and insisted that he ride bum to groin with one of the other male handlers.

Highlight Number 5:

Because a certain somebody told me not to bother with a hairdryer, my hair was fucking enormous for the whole trip. On the rare occasions that the hotel we were staying in DID have a hairdryer, it was like blow-drying your hair with a hoover nozzle. Regardless of whether I used a hairdryer or not, I resembled a poodle that had been dragged through a jet engine backwards. I never realised that my hair could look so large. And my hair had the look and texture of candyfloss. I also didn't take any shower gel as a result of advice from the same individual and so I was forced to buy something unidentifiable from a local supermarket. I promptly came out in a rash that lasted for three days.

Despite all this, Mexico really is a beautiful country! The ruins and the scenery are stunning, the food is great (apart from a delicacy known as "mole negro" \- a black sauce that resembles a turd and tastes like a damp terracotta pot) and the people are really friendly. It's just a shame that Spencer didn't organise anything AT ALL in advance. I guess I probably should have quizzed him a little more when he told me he was spending his bonus on our trip. It was only when we were on the plane home that he admitted that he'd booked the flights before finding out that his usual 50% of salary bonus had been frozen this year due to the "eurozone crisis". Which meant that we had to do the whole holiday on the cheap. This wouldn't have been so bad had I known in advance. As it was, I was not (physically or mentally) prepared for budget travel.

So, that was my holiday. The worst thing is, I really don't know what to say to everyone at work. I made such a big deal of going on a luxury Mexican holiday that I can't bear the thought of admitting that I slummed the whole thing like a student. So I'm going to have to lie. Fortunately that's something I appear to be getting awfully good at recently!

Right - am going to spend the rest of the day reading your emails from the last two weeks. However boring and pointless they are, they've got to be more interesting than my other task. Neil has just emailed asking me to proofread his article for "Sanitation Monthly"....

Catch ya later!

Rach x

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Yay!

24 January 2013, 10:13

Well...it sounds like your trip was...um...interesting! Sorry about the hairdryer/shower gel recommendation. In my defence, you did say that you'd be in five star hotels for the whole trip. Surely you should blame Spencer for the rash? You certainly did last time you got one!

Your Mexican bus ride reminds me of my tube journey last night. I ended up in a stand-off for the last seat with another girl at the opposite end of the carriage. We'd both clocked each other (and the empty seat) as soon as we got on the train, but not wanting to appear desperate, and also conscious of the rules of "City worker etiquette", we had to nonchalantly walk towards the seat, pretending not to notice the other. You'll be pleased to know that I won \- the other girl got to the seat first, but I threw my bag onto it, thus claiming it as my own. She was gracious in her defeat, but did look at me pointedly for several stops afterwards. Fortunately I'd found an Evening Standard behind me and so was able to pretend that she was invisible.

So pleased you're back!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

What the hell?

24 January 2013, 12:34

Was it REALLY necessary to tell me all about your deal whilst I was away?! You know I don't give a toss about that stuff when I'm in the country! I hope you don't mind but I deleted most of your deal related emails without really reading any of them. The only one I did look at was the one sent to Zack attaching the final draft of the facility agreement. What a fascinating insight into the world of corporate finance!!

Only joking by the way.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: What the hell?

24 January 2013, 12:46

Not funny.

Typically, just as you come back, my stupid job kicks off. I might be out of action for a day or so. Enjoy reading my emails!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Alex

24 January 2013, 13:02

Isla Butterfield – I have just finished reading about your meal and night out with Alex (and the email flirting). I know I've said this to you a thousand fucking times already, but you need to be really careful. I know what Alex is like!!! There is no way in hell that he genuinely thinks of you as "just friends". He's desperately trying to get in your knickers and the fact that he thinks you're playing hard to get is turning him on even more!! I'm not saying you don't get on, and I think Alex is smitten by the fact that you're clever and clearly not a desperate WAG, but this is only going to end in tears. And you might end up losing Toby as well.

Right - I've said everything I need to see on this subject and I won't mention it again. Or at least for the rest of today.

By the way, did you ever return that casino chip?? If not, give it to me!!!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

School friends

24 January 2013, 15:06

I haven't spoken to Denise and Imogen in years. I stopped speaking to Imogen when we were 19 and she told Paul that I was shagging someone else. I stopped speaking to Denise when she met Ian and started signing every letter/postcard/email as "Ian and Denise".

I'm a bit worried that apart from me, you only appear to be friends with other lawyers. By the sounds of it, they aren't the most sociable bunch either! Also, whilst every one of your lawyer friends who I've met is very nice, they all seem suicidally depressed and hate their jobs! I'm not sure that they're the sort of people you should be hanging around with!!

Talking of friends, Ben is STILL not talking to me. He's being such a girl about this. I also discovered this morning that he and Melissa are now a proper couple. I overheard her telling Linda that they celebrated their two-week anniversary yesterday. I guess I should be happy for him, but I really miss having him around. It also makes me realise how much I actually dislike my job. He used to make it bearable. Now I just sit at my desk all day feeling sorry for myself.

By the way, do you want to go for dinner on Friday? I want to tell you more about my holiday!!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: School Friends

24 January 2013, 16:01

First of all, don't worry about Alex - I know exactly what I'm doing. We really are just friends - I even tried to help him find a new girlfriend when we went out last week!

Secondly, I'm sorry to hear about Ben and Melissa. Perhaps it's time to admit that you like Ben a little bit more than you thought...

Would love to meet up for dinner tomorrow night but am going to have to play it by ear - I've got about a thousand documents to draft before I go home. With any luck I'll get everything done tonight and we could meet up tomorrow around 7? Could you do Saturday night if not Friday? Am dying to hear more about your holiday - based on the "highlights" that you've shared so far, the gruesome details are probably going to be even better! Plus you haven't really told me how you and Spencer got on...

Xx

Ps. My dad phoned to tell me last night that he and Mallika are going on holiday to India in a few weeks. Apparently it was a spur of the moment thing (which is exceptionally unlike my dad). I'm really pleased that he's going but I can't actually believe it. This time last year my dad felt too down to even leave the house! On the plus side, whilst he's away, I might pop round his house and do my annual clear out. Just the thought of being able to shred those bank statements is bringing me out in goosebumps!!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Tomorrow

24 January 2013, 16:58

Great - 7 works for me (It'll give me time to get Aristotle sorted after work). I'm seeing Spencer for drinks on Saturday so Friday is the only night I can do.

There isn't really much to tell you about how Spencer and I "got on". For a start, there was NO WAY that I was going to have sex in some of the beds that we stayed in and so from that perspective, it probably wasn't the most successful trip!! We also argued ALOT, but that was hardly surprising either considering some of the things I had to put up with...

Email me tomorrow and we can work out the details for dinner.

xx

25 January 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

DISASTER!!

25 January 2013, 10:34

Rach,

Veronica has just informed me that Isla Deveau has been nominated for a BAFTA!!!! Apparently the nominations came out a while ago - I've clearly been working too hard. I was so distraught that I actually felt faint and had to lie on the floor for a few moments (as you know I have very low blood pressure and sudden shocks to the system tend to make me light-headed). I was still lying on the floor when Charles came into my office to ask for an update on the post-completion formalities of the last deal we did. Since Charles lacks all form of people skills, (fortunately for me, in this particular instance) rather than ask me what was wrong (in light of which I would have had to think of an excuse) he simply walked out the room. I did get an email from him an hour later though asking if I was feeling okay. I told him that I hadn't had time to go to the gym all week (subtle emphasis on how hard I am working) and so I had decided to do some "office yoga".

Am so upset about the BAFTA nomination. Do you think there is any way we can sabotage?

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: DISASTER!!

25 January 2013, 11:03

That is the worst fucking news I've heard all morning. Actually I tell a lie. RIP Adolphe :(

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Re: DISASTER!!

25 January 2013, 11:08

Rach

I am sorry to hear about Adolphe. It is never a nice thing to lose a pet. I remember when I had to take Twiglet and Scampi to the vets to be put down. Do you remember – Twiglet had a cyst the size of a quail egg and Scampi had got pneumonia? I was a complete mess at the vet's - made worse by the fact that Scampi died as soon as the vet shook her out the toilet roll she'd been hiding in. It was absolutely devastating. I had to leave the room before the vet actually put down Twiglet, leaving my dad in there to hold her. I'll never forget her little squeak as I left the room. My dad was pleased though - because Scampi had died on impact, he only had to pay for one rat euthanasia instead of two.

Hope you're okay - call me if you need to.

I should be good for dinner tonight by the way - Russell's deal has gone a bit quiet. Unless you tell me otherwise, shall we meet at London Bridge? I want to take you to an amazing new tapas place. I've heard they do great sherry.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: RE: DISASTER!!

25 January 2013, 12:47

Tapas sounds lovely, so long as it's not one of those places where I'll have to pay £20 for a plate of fucking ham. Not sure about the sherry thing either (isn't that what old women drink?) but you know me, I'm up for anything!

See you later then!!

26 January 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Photos

26 January 2013, 16:45

I've attached some photos from last night - how good was that ham?!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re Photos

26 January 2013, 18:13

Thanks for the photos! That's the last time I EVER drink sherry. Bleurgh.

28 January 2013

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Help

28 January 2013, 11:05

Spencer has gone missing. I've tried him at work and his secretary says he hasn't turned up. And apparently he hasn't called to say that he won't be coming in. She sounded genuinely concerned!

What do I do?! We had a drunken fight yesterday morning after our night out (long story) and I haven't heard from him since.

What if he's done something stupid? I said some really horrible things. You know what I'm like when I'm angry.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Help

28 January 2013, 11:08

Spencer will be absolutely fine. He's done this sort of thing before and he always turns up eventually. He's probably just hanging out with Alex.

Stop worrying!

Xx

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: Help

28 January 2013, 12:15

I'm genuinely worried. I've called Alex and he has no idea where he is either. Alex always knows where he is!!! They are practically joined at the fucking hip. Apparently they had an argument last night too. After he left mine, he went to use Alex's pool but he dropped a glass of Ribena on the floor and stained the mosaic and a white leather sun lounger. Alex accused him of having no respect for his stuff, they had a big fight, and Spencer left.

What if he threw himself under a train or something?! Alex thinks he'll turn up eventually and isn't particularly stressed out about it. Do you think I should phone his mum? His mobile's off and he's still not turned up at work.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Stop worrying

28 January 2013, 13:03

There is absolutely no point in getting yourself in a tizz about this. Give him a bit longer to cool down. I'll bet he'll call in a couple of hours, acting as if nothing has happened.

Stay calm until you know something is actually wrong!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Stop Worrying

28 January 2013, 16:35

Now I'm starting to panic. Still nothing. Even Alex is worried!!

Should I call the police?! I've left 14 messages on his voicemail and I'm sure he would have called if he'd seen them.

What if he's dead?!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Calm Down

28 January 2013, 16:39

Okay – if you're that worried, maybe you should call the police. Are you sure Alex didn't have him arrested for being drunk and disorderly whilst in charge of a glass of Ribena? He's really OCD about that pool...

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Calm Down

28 January 2013, 17:01

Ha ha, very fucking funny.

I've phoned the police and given a missing persons description. They weren't helpful. In fact, I think they thought I was wasting their time. Maybe I should get Alex to call? I bet they'd listen to him!!

I called a couple of the local hospitals as well. No one matching Spencer's description was admitted last night.

Isles – I'm so scared. I realise now how much I love him. The thought of losing him forever makes me want to curl up and die.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Hold on

28 January 2013, 17:14

Stop panicking – give me five minutes and I'll give you a call.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Hold on

28 January 2013, 17:42

Thanks for your call earlier. Made me feel a lot better. Kept my mind off Spencer for a couple of minutes anyway!! Am going to take your advice and go home.

I thought you might find it amusing to know that the security guard nearly had a fit when he saw that I was still at my desk after half past five. He came over just to see if I was okay. Bit of a contrast to your job...

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Re Hold on

28 January 2013, 19:24

Thanks for that! Your comment was perfectly timed since almost to the second that I got your email, "the Russell deal" materialised like the great Houdini via a meeting request from Russell's secretary in half an hour's time. Looks like I'll be here for a few more hours now.

You also reminded me of something that I read the other day about a law firm in New York that told a trainee he had to proofread a two thousand page document for a court case bundle. Apparently he died that night at his desk, but they didn't notice for three days!!

I might not be able to answer my phone this evening because I've got to sit in on a couple of calls. But if you email me, I should be able to get back to you fairly quickly.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Thank God!

28 January 2013, 21:42

Spencer phoned. I'm so relieved, I can hardly speak.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Thank God!

28 January 2013, 21:52

Where was he? Let me guess - he passed out drunk in a ditch and has only just woken up.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: Thank God!

28 January 2013, 21:54

He's in Amsterdam.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

What?!

28 January 2013, 22:01

What the HELL is he doing in Amsterdam?!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: What?!

28 January 2013, 22:14

He said he was so angry with Alex and me that as soon as he got home he grabbed his passport and a bottle of whisky and got a taxi to Heathrow. He went to the first check-in desk he could find and asked to be put on the next available flight, which happened to be to Amsterdam. He got there late last night, checked himself into the first hotel he stumbled across and has been wandering around the city ever since.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Re: What?!

28 January 2013, 22:17

Wandering around?! Doing what exactly?

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: Re: What?!

28 January 2013, 22:19

Thinking about his life. He said he's realised that I'm the most important thing he's got, that he's really sorry for scaring me and that he'll do anything to keep me.

He's promised to get the first flight home and come straight over.

I know I should be angry with him, but it's so difficult. He can be so sweet when he wants to be.

What do you think I should do?

Thanks for all your support by the way. You're such a good friend.

I think I'm going to drown my sorrows now with a bottle of Pinot G.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Re: Re: Re: What?!

28 January 2013, 22:23

Okay – am back at my desk so I can type a proper email.

Do you ever think that Spencer does this sort of thing an awful lot?

Also, anyone else going to Heathrow and getting on the "first plane out" would end up somewhere like Nigeria! Spencer, on the other hand, suspiciously manages to get a flight to cannabis central.

I know you love him and I know he can be sweet and charming, but maybe you should take a second to think about how he's treated you over the last few months. He doesn't turn up when he says he will, he changes his plans with you to go out with his friends, he lies to you about where he is and then he goes off on a 24-hour bender to Amsterdam! And I bet he stayed at a five star hotel this time!

I don't want to upset you by saying this, but I don't understand how you can let yourself be treated like that. You're smart and funny and beautiful and any man in the world would be lucky to have you. Yet you always end up falling for people who never show you any respect.

If you want my advice, I think you should tell him it's over. At the very least, let him stew for a bit.

Speak soon

Isla xx

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Excuse me

28 January 2013, 22:28

Isla Jane Butterfield,

Can I just say that I find it VERY RICH to be getting any sort of relationship advice from you!

Spencer may be unreliable, but he is sexy and charismatic and we have fun together. Toby wouldn't know fun if it slapped him in the face!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Excuse me

28 January 2013, 22:32

Alright, calm down, Rachel Eva Ku! Think you might have drunk that wine a little bit too quickly!

I can't actually believe that you just said that about Toby! I was only trying to be helpful!! I accept he may not be the most charismatic of men, and he might prefer a night in with David Attenborough on the TV to a night out on the town with his friends, but he's gorgeous and kind and hard working and will do absolutely anything to make me happy. Which is more than I can say for Spencer, who can't even remember your name when he's drunk!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Unbelievable

28 January 2013, 22:35

I cannot believe how fucking hypocritical you're being! Er...HOW MUCH time have you been spending with Alex recently?! You may claim that he's your new best friend but you know full fucking well that you fancy him!!

So I don't think you've got any fucking right to lecture me about Spencer. Because YOU are in the process of falling for someone who is ten times worse!!!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Pot calling kettle black

28 January 2013, 23:43

You're a fine one to talk about having two men on the go - you've been stringing poor Ben along for months! You clearly like him but you won't give the guy a chance because he doesn't work in the City or take you out to fancy places all the time. Well that hasn't really got you very far with Spencer, has it? He might invite you to the odd champagne bar, but it's rare that he actually bothers to turn up or, for that matter, pays for the drinks! Ben, on the other hand, would have done absolutely anything for you (including take you on a nice relaxing holiday rather than one that a GAP year student would find offensive) but you've treated him like crap. No wonder he's gone off with that blond bimbo - at least she seems to appreciate him.

Also for your information, Alex and I are just friends.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Stop being so high and mighty

28 January 2013, 22:52

Why the fuck are you bringing Ben into this?! For your information, yes I do really like him, but I like Spencer more. And unlike you, I'm not DELUDING myself by being with one person when I secretly want to be with someone else!

You are always so sure that you're right about everything. You are so fucking annoying!!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Just leave it

28 January 2013, 22:56

Look, I really don't need this hassle right now. I'm sat here with another two documents to draft before I can go home, trying to give my best friend some honest relationship advice and you are trying to tell me that my whole life with Toby is a sham. Well you can sod off for all I care.

Enjoy making up with Spencer - I give it two days before you have another fight.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Shut up

28 January 2013, 23:00

Thank you, Mystic Meg.

And PLEASE stop harping on about your fucking job all the time. Yes you work long hours but you're paid an absolute fucking fortune for it. Too much if you ask me.

And while we're at it, I just want to say that you are the most inconsiderate person I know. You forget that other NORMAL people don't earn anywhere near as much money as you, yet it's always "My Jimmy Choos this" or "My Mulberry that". It's so selfish. AND you make your poor friends go out to restaurants and eat ridiculously expensive plates of ham!

Anyway, just resign if you hate your job so much! Otherwise, stop going on about it. IT'S DULL.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Stop going on about the ham

28 January 2013, 23:03

You ordered that bloody ham!

And it's a bit rich telling me to resign when you earn a pittance, yet for some reason persist in working there anyway!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Stop going on about the ham

28 January 2013, 23:07

I only ordered the ham because you'd got me so drunk on sherry at EIGHT POUNDS A FUCKING GLASS.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Re: Stop going on about the ham

28 January 2013, 23:09

Whatever - I've got better things to do than be insulted. If I don't do my job, a multi-billion dollar merger falls through. If you don't do your job, someone may miss out on getting his or her free plunger at the "I Shit Therefore I Am" Annual Hygiene Conference.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: Re: Stop going on about the ham

28 January 2013, 23:11

All I read was Blah Blah Blah, Blah Blah Blah.

YOU ARE SO FUCKING UP YOURSELF!!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Re: Re: Re: Stop going on about the ham

28 January 2013, 23:12

You swear too much.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Stop going on about the ham

28 January 2013, 23:13

Fuck off.

3 February 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Hello

3 February 2013, 17:03

Can you please pick up your phone?! I want to sort this out. It's ridiculous.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Hello

3 February 2013, 21:13

You're ridiculous.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Re: Hello

3 February 2013, 22:03

Oh grow up, Rach.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: Re: Hello

3 February 2013, 23:13

You grow up.

6 February 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

This weekend

6 February 2013, 9:32

I don't suppose you and Spencer want to come over for dinner this weekend?

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: This weekend

6 February 2013, 16:13

I'm surprised you think Spencer is capable of committing to something so far in advance.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Re: This weekend

6 February 2013, 17:32

I know you're expecting me to apologise, but we both said things we didn't mean. Can't we just forget about it?

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: Re: This weekend

6 February 2013, 18:16

I didn't say anything I didn't mean.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Re: Re: Re: This weekend

6 February 2013, 18:32

You can be so fucking stubborn sometimes.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: This weekend

6 February 2013, 19:16

Now who's swearing too much?

20 February 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Tonight

20 February 2013, 9:32

I guess I should assume that we don't talk anymore. But I just wanted to let you know, I did think about what you said and I'm meeting up with Alex tonight to tell him that I shouldn't see him anymore. I think it all just went to my head a bit.

I hope you and Spencer got things sorted out. The photo of the two of you on Facebook was very sweet.

Isla

22 February 2013

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

JESUS CHRIST

22 February 2013, 10:30

Isla

What the fuck is going on?! Are you aware that you're on the front page of the Sun?! From what I can work out, your "just friends" chat with Alex wasn't very successful! It looks like the two of you are having sex in a car!

CALL ME!!!!!

Rach x

Ps. I admit I've been a complete bitch to you over the last couple of weeks, but I was honestly going to reply to your email this morning. I hope you're okay.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Oh My God

22 February 2013, 11:38

Everyone at work is asking me what happened. According to the article, you and Alex have been seeing each other "for some time!" It also says that Alex is still living with Renee and there's "speculation" that she might be pregnant!!

Is any of this true?!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Where are you?

22 February 2013, 16:30

Have you done a fucking runner?!

Why aren't you picking up your phone - is everything okay?!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Please pick up your phone

22 February 2013, 17:29

I just spoke to Veronica. She was very abrupt (I could tell she was loving it though) and said that you weren't available. I'd like to know that you're okay. I tried your dad too but forgot he's in India. For obvious reasons, I haven't tried to call Toby.

Call me!!! I'm sorry about all the mean things I said to you. You know I'm a bit of a psycho sometimes. You just hit a raw spot.

I'm here if you need me.

xxxx

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Isla!!

22 February 2013, 20:52

This is driving me fucking crazy!!! Everyone is calling me \- even people from school I haven't spoken to in years. I've never been so popular.

Spencer is none the wiser either. Apparently Alex has gone missing too. You aren't with him are you?!?

Please call me.

Rachel xx

23 February 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Me

23 February 2013, 13:45

Rachel

Hi. I'm sorry I didn't call you back. Yesterday was a bit of a difficult day.

I thought it would be easier to just send you this email rather than phone - whenever I turn my phone on I get bombarded with calls, so I find it easier to keep it turned off. I also have a sneaking suspicion my phone may have been hacked.

Before I say anything else, I just want to let you know that I'm fine and I have a place to stay. Not where you might think, but I'll come on to that later.

If I tell you what's happened, you have to promise to delete the email afterwards. I never plan to tell another soul this story for as long as I live so please please don't tell anyone else what I'm about to tell you. Ever.

Okay, here goes....

As is already abundantly clear, I did meet up with Alex for dinner on Wednesday night. I was a nervous wreck. I had no idea how to broach the subject of not seeing him again, mainly because I was worried that he would just laugh at me for even contemplating that our relationship might be more than platonic. After a couple of false starts, I managed to get the gist of it out - essentially that I'd had a big fight with you about the amount of time that we were spending together and I'd realised afterwards that you were right. I also told him that what we were doing wasn't fair on Toby and that even though life with him wasn't always crazy or exciting, I did still love him and I didn't want to lose him.

As soon as I'd finished jabbering, Alex took my hands and asked me to look at him, which I did. I am ashamed to say that my stomach flipped over the second he touched me. There is no denying how unbelievably sexy he is and despite attempting to exert every ounce of willpower in my body, I just couldn't pull my hands away. It was then that he told me that he couldn't bear the thought of never seeing me again and that meeting up with me was the only thing that he looked forward to. I didn't really know what to say. So, just like some silly schoolgirl with a totally inappropriate crush, I blurted out that I thought I might be falling for him and didn't trust myself to see him anymore. He was silent for a couple of moments and then, to my complete and utter astonishment, he leant across the table, took my face in his hands, and kissed me.

For a split second, I think I kissed him back. Well, actually, I'm lying - I know I did. Looking back, it felt like I was kissing him for ages, even though I'm sure I pulled away pretty quickly. I would also like to say in my defence that I'd drunk about a bottle of wine on a fairly empty stomach and so the exact timing of events is a little bit hazy (and before you say it, yes, I am beginning to think I may have a drinking problem). Regardless however, when we did separate, I do remember Alex putting his hand on my thigh and saying in a low voice that we should go back to his place. And all I could bring myself to do was nod. He signalled something to the waiter, took my hand and we went out the back of the restaurant, where his car and driver were waiting.

The minute we got in the car, Alex was all over me. I didn't do anything to resist, and so he pushed me down onto the back seat and climbed on top of me. Things started to get heated pretty quickly - it was as if I'd completely forgotten who I was – I was utterly caught up in how amazing it (and he) felt and how unbelievably turned on I was by the whole situation. And I'm completely ashamed to admit that all thoughts of Toby just flew out the window. I honestly think if Alex had stayed silent and not said anything, we may well have ended up having sex right there in the back of his car (with his driver sat up front)! But he didn't. Just as he was pulling the straps of my dress down, he actually said (and I promise 100% that I am not making this up): "God I hope you know how lucky you are."

It felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach. I pushed him off me and asked him what the fuck he had just said. He looked a bit taken aback for a moment, but then gave me a sheepish smile and tried to pull me back towards him. "I was only playing with you Isles. Come back here. I want to show you what it's like to have a real man inside you." It felt like I sobered up in a second. I took in the steamed up windows and sticky leather seats against the back of my legs and I realised that Alex did this sort of thing ALL THE TIME. I'd clearly just been a little bit more challenging than some of his other conquests. So with that, I took a deep breath, sat myself up, pushed him off me, opened the car door and said that I was really sorry but I just couldn't do it. Alex looked like he'd been slapped. I tried to say something else to make the situation less uncomfortable, but out of the blue he got really really angry and told me that I was being a "fucking idiot". He also said some stuff about Toby that I'd rather not repeat. I was a bit shocked, but tried to keep my cool, telling him that the reason I was doing this was because I wasn't a fucking idiot and that I knew deep down that we would never be more than a fling. This seemed to piss him off even more, because he then gave me a really nasty look and started laughing. He told me that he didn't fancy me anyway, had only been interested in seeing "whether a City slut could give good head" and that if I rejected him now, there wouldn't be any second chances. To be honest, as vile as it was to listen to, it was exactly what I needed to hear - I got out the car, and in the most dignified manner possible considering that I was pissed and my dress was pretty much round my waist, I told him that no girl in her right mind would ever sleep with a tosser like him (completely untrue, but I did try to sound convincing) and that if she did, it would only be in a state of "complete inebriation" (use of big word to make myself look clever). I then strode serenely (well, stumbled really) out of the restaurant car park and hailed a taxi.

So, that was that. Or so I thought at the time. I didn't say anything to Toby when I got in, simply because he had no idea that I even knew Alex in a social context, let alone that I'd been out for dinner with him. I went to bed, grateful that the whole sorry episode was over and swearing to myself that I would do whatever was necessary to make it up to Toby.

The next day at work was pretty uneventful, until about 4pm when I got a call from some woman on my mobile. The minute she said that she was a journalist from the Sun, I got a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. She didn't say very much really. She just asked if I had any comment to make about "the events of last night". I told her that I had no idea what she was talking about and hung up. My initial reaction was that someone must have seen us in the restaurant and tried to sell the story to the journalist, but I figured that nothing was likely to happen unless either there were several witnesses, or there was some kind of photographic evidence. Safe to say though, I didn't sleep very well that night. At numerous points I considered waking Toby up and confessing everything, but I managed to convince myself that it would all blow over.

It was only on my way into work the next day that I realised the full gravity of the situation that I'd gotten myself into: not only was there photographic evidence, but the evidence in question was splashed all over the Sun's front cover, along with the headline: "Get In You Sl*g!"

Things went downhill very quickly from there. When I eventually got to work (after crying in a station toilet for quite some time) I walked straight into a throng of journalists outside my building. I managed to get past them and into my office without too much hassle (for that I have to thank our security guard, who sprang into action like a man possessed) but I knew it wouldn't be long before other people found out about what had happened. Lawyers might profess not to be tabloid readers, but you wouldn't believe how much they gossip.

Sure enough, half an hour later, I was summoned into Charles' office. I knew it wasn't a good sign when I noticed that the annoying lady from HR was there as well. Charles looked more uncomfortable than I'd ever seen him, and clearly had no idea what to say to me, but, with the help of "Yvonne", I managed to glean that I'd brought the reputation of the firm into disrepute and was therefore suspended until further notice.

I left my building in a complete daze, fortunately by the back door to avoid the crowd of journalists. As I sat on the tube, I could feel everyone staring at me. A couple of guys winked at me and another girl called me a slut just as she was getting off the train. Normally I would have retorted that the only slutty thing in that carriage was her visible thong, but I felt so miserable that I couldn't even summon a rebuke.

Eventually, I managed to get back home and it was only then that the true awfulness of what had happened hit me in the face like a sledgehammer. Toby had not only changed the locks on our front door, but he had also packed up all my stuff into boxes - no mean feat given that he'd managed it in under two hours. I also couldn't help but notice that he'd even labelled the boxes, and the care that he'd taken in a situation when I would have just thrown everything out the nearest window just made me feel even more depressed. I tried ringing the doorbell, the house phone and his mobile but eventually I gave up and called a taxi.

It was only when the taxi arrived that it occurred to me that I had nowhere to go. I wasn't sure whether you were talking to me, and despite the desperation of the situation, I couldn't bear the thought of going to your work. My dad had gone off to India and I didn't have the keys to his house. Obviously all my bloody lawyer friends were too busy making millions for their clients to pick up their phones. So I was just about to go straight to the nearest hotel when I randomly found the number for Joyce in my wallet. Figuring that the events of the day couldn't possibly get any more surreal, I called her.

Joyce picked up immediately. Not only did she remember me, she also told me that she'd seen the story in the paper that morning. She said that I was very welcome to come and stay with her if I needed a place to "keep my head down". So with that I went round to her enormous house in Fulham, where I have been hiding out ever since.

Joyce convinced me to keep trying to call Toby and eventually he picked up his mobile. It turns out that he'd had to leave ours as well because so many journalists had turned up (fortunately I had departed with my boxes by that point). Toby is now staying with his albino friend Neil. I think you met Neil once when we were at university? He was the one who had to use a telescope to see the whiteboard in lectures because his sight was so bad. He never liked me very much - possibly because when he first told me that he was albino, I'd asked him why his eyes weren't red. He probably likes me even less now (Toby told me he's taken to calling me the "strumpet").

I didn't really get much out of Toby, but he did at least allow me to tell him the entire story from start to finish. He seemed to believe me when I said that the incident in the paper was the only time it had happened and I was initially hopeful that we might be able to sort things out. But when I asked him whether we could meet up to talk a bit more, he told me that he wasn't sure he could ever bring himself to talk to me ever again, let alone agree to see me.

I've pretty much been crying ever since. To make matters worse, the story has been repeated in two Saturday newspapers so far, fuelled by the fact that 1) Renee does appear to be four months pregnant (something Alex had neglected to tell me); 2) I work for one of the most reputable law firms in the City; and 3) I am going out with the man that the Birmingham Post called "a hero in the fight against Britain's ever-decreasing bird population."

Rach - what the hell am I going to do? At the moment, I have no job, no permanent abode and above all, no Toby. Why is it that it's only when you lose something that you realise that it's actually all you wanted all along? When I think about it properly, all I care about is Toby. Not my stupid job anyway (although I'm not sure it's possible to live on Jobseekers Allowance for the rest of my life - I don't know how people do it). I certainly don't give a shit about Alex - what the hell was I doing with him? I just can't believe how stupid I've been.

What if Toby never wants to see me again? What will I do? It's only now he's gone that I realise all the lovely little things he used to do for me. However late I got home, he'd always make me something nice to eat. Whenever I had a headache, he'd always let me put my head on his lap and he'd stroke my hair until it went away. And whenever I got in really late and he was in bed, he'd always leave me a funny little note on the stairs.

I am so depressed. The only good thing to come out of this is that Joyce has been an absolute star. Which means that I finally have another friend who isn't a lawyer. It's a shame she's about fifty years older than me.

What shall I do?

Isla xxx

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

What's going on with you?

23 February 2013, 17:45

Rach

I just wanted to let you know that I'm going away for a couple of days - Joyce has been invited to go and meet Ernie's family in Liverpool. Since I have absolutely nothing else to do (or live for really) I've offered to drive her. It appears that their relationship has intensified somewhat since I last saw them and Ernie has come clean to his family about the exact reason why he goes on so many cruises. From what I can gather, they aren't as annoyed about the situation as Ernie thought they would be, but they would like to meet Joyce properly. Since Joyce can't drive anymore (but refuses to sell her car) I've said I will take her (she also refuses to take the train for some reason).

So anyway, maybe you could email me at some point so we can sort things out? I can't work out at the moment whether we're talking or not... You aren't answering your phone and so I'm a bit confused, especially because you seemed so keen to talk yesterday.

I hope you're okay anyway. I miss talking to you - Joyce is lovely but she does forget an awful lot of what I tell her.

Lots of love

Isles xx

24 February 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Guess what?

24 February 2013, 21:45

Ernie proposed to Joyce! And she said yes!

I suppose I should be encouraged by the fact that you can find love again in your eighties, but the thought of being by myself for another 50 years before I find it is such a mind numbingly awful prospect.

I tried calling Toby again - he won't pick up at all anymore.

I also got the following text from my dad:

"India superb. Have you ever had a chapatti? So much better for you than naan."

So I guess he must be having a good time. At least he hasn't been reading the English papers.

What's going on with you? It feels weird that I haven't heard from you. Is everything okay? I'd call Spencer but in the circumstances I'm not sure that would really be appropriate.

Isla xxx

25 February 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

I don't believe it!

25 February 2013, 10:00

Just got the following text from Alex:

"Isla - am guessing that you don't have a boyfriend anymore \- if you fancy hooking up, give me a call."

What a twat.

Is everything okay with us by the way? You aren't replying to any of my emails!!

26 February 2013

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Crazy weekend

26 February 2013, 13:29

I'm so sorry I didn't reply. Something mental happened to me on Saturday.

Have got so much to tell you but I've lost my phone.

Are you about later?

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Eventful weekend

26 February 2013, 14:51

You can't go saying something like that and expect me to wait until this evening! Can't you call me from work? My mobile is 07751 476837, although I'm a little disappointed that you don't know it off by heart.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: Eventful weekend

26 February 2013, 14:55

NOBODY knows phone numbers off by heart anymore, apart from 999, 100 and thanks to those two fucking annoying men off the telly, 118 118.

I'm not at work. I'm at Ben's flat. He's had to go into the office though and he doesn't appear to have a landline... I'm on his computer now.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

What?!

26 February 2013, 14:58

What the hell are you doing there?! Tell me what happened before I pop!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: What?!

26 February 2013, 15:00

It's quite a long story.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

For God's Sake!

26 February 2013, 15:03

Rachel - I have no job, no boyfriend and I live with an old woman. I have plenty of time on my hands.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Sorry

26 February 2013, 15:17

Fine, okay.

But before I start, can I just say that I'm really sorry? I was such a bitch to you. I really don't know why I refused to talk to you for so long. I'd hate me if I were you.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Sorry

26 February 2013, 15:19

I don't hate you. We both said stupid things. And I should have listened to you when you told me Alex was bad news. I still can't believe I've completely ruined my life.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: Sorry

26 February 2013, 15:21

I'm sure you haven't ruined your life. You hated your job anyway. Yes, you've fucked things up quite a bit with Tubs, but I'm sure he'll come around eventually.

But you really should have listened to me about Alex. I've got quite an eye for spotting a complete and utter bastard, as it turns out...

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Spit it out then!

26 February 2013, 15:22

Great. We've both forgiven each other. Now will you please explain what you are doing at Ben's flat!!!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Here goes **...**

26 February 2013, 15:45

Oh yes, I'd forgotten about that!

So...Saturday morning, before I got your email, I decided I'd go for a long ride with Aristotle. I chose the route through the woods because it's dead round there and I just wanted to let off some steam. I hadn't heard from you and was going crazy thinking that you might have topped yourself! And on top of that, whilst I'd kind of made up with Spencer, I hadn't seen him since he'd got back from Amsterdam because SURPRISE SURPRISE he hadn't bothered to come and see me.

When I reached the woods, I started to canter in the direction of the bridle path. And that's all I remember! The next thing I knew, I was sat in a hospital bed and a nurse was standing over me.

Although I still have no memory of this at all, I'm told I was found in a "highly confused state" outside the woods, trying to put Aristotle into a phone box. So I guess I must have fallen off at some point on the ride and landed on my head. Thank GOD by complete coincidence, I was spotted by a lady who owns a horse at the yard and she recognised me. She called an ambulance and then arranged to get Aristotle collected. Apparently he had a bit of a tantrum on the way into the horsebox and caused £250 of damage. Normally that would have fucked me off no end, but I am actually just glad someone got him home safely.

So I was taken to hospital, where I was scanned, x-rayed and generally prodded. Apparently I then passed out for about three hours until I woke up and saw the nurse.

After she'd checked me over, she asked if I had a relative or friend's phone number so that she could let them know where I was. It was then that I realised I'd lost my mobile. I could only think of my mum's landline, but when the nurse tried it, it went straight to answerphone. It turns out she'd gone out for the day to an antique fair with Derek. Suddenly I had a flash of complete inspiration. I remembered that I had Spencer's business card in my wallet (which was about the ONLY thing I hadn't lost). I gave the card to the nurse and she went outside to call him on his work mobile.

When she came back in, she looked ridiculously uncomfortable. There's no way I could describe the conversation to do it justice. So here it is, pretty much word for word. Prepare yourself.

Me: Did you call him?

Nurse: Yes, I did.

Me: Did he not pick up?

Nurse: Oh, he did.

Me: Is he coming to see me then?

Nurse: No, he isn't.

[Massively awkward silence]

Me: Why not?

Nurse: Um...he told me that he's busy.

Me: Busy doing what?

Nurse: Um... He's at a football match and can't leave.

Me: Didn't you tell him that I'm in hospital?

[Even more awkward silence]

Nurse: Yes. I told him that you were in hospital with a potentially severe head trauma.

Me: And what did he say to that?

Nurse: He asked if you were conscious and when I said you were, he told me to let you know that he'll call you tomorrow.

Me: Oh.

Nurse: And he mentioned someone called Alex. Do you know him?

Me: Yes... What did he say about Alex?

Nurse: He said it's a really important day for Alex because he hasn't scored in the last five matches. He said that he has to stick around after the match.

At this point, I started to bawl my fucking eyes out. I was all alone at hospital with no one to come and visit me. The nurse was sympathetic, but clearly did not have the time to discuss what a fucking awful boyfriend I had and so left the room. I tried to remember your phone number but failed miserably. Then, for no reason other than out of pure boredom, I started looking through my wallet. And I found Ben's business card. Without really thinking, I beeped the nurse and asked her if she could phone my friend Ben, just to see on the off-chance if he was about.

Ben was at my bedside half an hour later. I subsequently found out he'd abandoned Melissa halfway through a meal at Pizza Express.

I'm not sure how it happened (I blame the concussion!) but all of a sudden we were kissing. Turns out, Ben is the best kisser EVER and had we not been rudely interrupted by a nurse coming in to ask me if I'd had a "bowel movement", it might have gone a lot further than it did.

After the nurse had gone, I was totally up for carrying on where we'd left off. But Ben pulled away, sat down, and just stared at his hands. Neither of us really knew what to say. Again, since I don't know how best to describe what happened, I'll give you a cut and paste of the conversation.

Me: So, how's Melissa?

Ben: She's fine. She really likes to shop though.

Me: What were you buying?

Ben: She wanted an outfit for Saturday night.

Me: What for?

Ben: Some anniversary. I've lost track if I'm honest.

[Silence]

Ben: How's Spencer?

Me: Fine.

Ben: Is he coming to see you? Perhaps I should go.

Me: No, I think Spencer and I are over.

Ben: [looking hopeful] Why, what happened?

Me: He told a nurse that he'd rather stay at a football match than visit his girlfriend in hospital.

Ben: Rachel, Spencer is a complete and utter wanker.

Me: I know.

[Another silence]

Ben: So, does that mean you're available?

Me: Yes.

Ben: Could I take you out sometime then?

Me: What about Melissa?

Ben: I think I knew it was over when I took her out for lunch today and she told the waiter that she couldn't have dressing on her salad or butter touching her dough balls.

Me: But the butter's the best bit! In that case, I'm most definitely available.

Ben: When do you knock-off here?

At which point, I called the nurse and ask to be discharged straight away. After half an hour of arguing with a doctor who looked about 12 years old, they finally agreed to let me leave, on the condition that Ben monitored me for the next 48 hours.

And I've never been so well monitored in my life!!! Ha!

xxx

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

OMG!!

26 February 2013, 15:48

Rachel - that is absolutely crazy! I can't believe it.

What did you say to Spencer?

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: OMG!!

26 February 2013, 15:49

Well, this is really bad, but I haven't even bothered to contact Spencer yet!! I can't exactly dump him by email. Although that's probably all that bastard deserves!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Re: OMG!!

26 February 2013, 15:50

But what if he turns up at your flat? You won't be there and then he might think you've died in hospital or something!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: Re: OMG!!

26 February 2013, 15:51

Exactly.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Brilliant

26 February 2013, 15:52

That is so cruel. I love it!

So what's going on with you and Ben then?

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Ben

26 February 2013, 15:54

Hmm...I don't know yet. He's amazing. I have no idea why I didn't see it before! I've never been so well looked after, for a start. As soon as we got back to his flat he made me up a bed in the lounge, getting the duvet from his room and plumping up all the pillows for me. He then went into the kitchen to make me a cup of tea and a slice of marmite on toast. It was all so loveable, it made me want to cry.

And why did I never realise how HOT Ben is?! He has the most amazing body!!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Ben

26 February 2013, 15:55

Because you're an idiot. And because your judgment was clouded by your infatuation with Spencer. You know you could never resist the boy who showed you the least amount of interest.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Hmm **...**

26 February 2013, 15:56

As much as it kills me to admit it, I think you're probably right.

Anyway, why don't you come over to the flat now if you've got nothing to do? I'm signed off work for the week!! Which is probably a good thing, all things considered...

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Hmm

26 February 2013, 15:57

Why? What else has happened?!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Where do I begin?!

26 February 2013, 15:58

Ben broke up with Melissa yesterday. And Linda has found out my mum isn't a schizophrenic.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Oh dear

26 February 2013, 15:59

How did she find out?

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Linda

26 February 2013, 16:06

My mum phoned the office on Monday morning in a panic about where I was. The hospital had left a message on her phone and when she phoned them back, they told her that I'd been discharged with an unknown gentleman and wouldn't tell her where I'd gone! After threatening to involve Trading Standards (mum threatens to call them all the fucking time, regardless of the situation) she then called work first thing on Monday morning to see if I'd turned up.

Linda happened to be the poor cow who picked up the phone. After she'd told my mum that I was staying with a friend from work, she'd said something along the lines of being sorry that my mum was so worried, particularly given "her condition." Obviously my mum demanded to know what "her condition" was, and when Linda told her (Ben said that she looked terrified at this point) my mum started laughing uncontrollably and couldn't stop for the rest of the call!! She then told Linda that although her daughter might consider her mother's behaviour a little eccentric at times, I was prone to extreme bouts of exaggeration, verging on compulsive lying!!!

So now Linda thinks I'm an awful person. I know this because I sent her a card this morning to say sorry, but Ben emailed me to say that she is refusing to even open it!!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Oh dear again

26 February 2013, 16:07

Well look on the bright side - at least your exploits haven't been pasted all over the tabloids!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

True

26 February 2013, 16:08

Yes, I suppose so!

If it's any consolation, it was an excellent picture of you. It looked just like one of those Hollywood sex scenes. A bit like Kate and Leo in Titantic, but without the period dress, obviously. ;.)

So, are you coming over then? I'm sure between us we can find a way of getting Tubs to talk to you again.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

If only

26 February 2013, 16:10

If only that were possible. I miss him so much.

Right - I'll jump on the train now then. What's Ben's address?

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Great

26 February 2013, 16:11

Flat 7, Ebury House, Gordon Road.

See you soon! Xxx

4 March 2013

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Well?

4 March 2013, 13:03

How did the disciplinary go?

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: well?

4 March 2013, 15:33

It went brilliantly!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: Well?

4 March 2013, 15:37

Why? What happened? Can you go back?

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Free

4 March 2013, 15:38

No \- they don't want me back.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Free

4 March 2013, 15:39

So why is that good?

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Re: Free

4 March 2013, 15:40

Because they can't be bothered with the hassle of trying to fire me. They suggested I resign and have offered me six months' salary if I agree to go quietly!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

That' **s ridiculous!**

4 March 2013, 15:42

You're fucking joking! That's insane (and brilliant).

So Ms Butterfield, what are you going to do with your life now?

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Good question

4 March 2013, 15:43

I'm really just thinking about the short term right now. All I want to do is to try to win Toby back.

Can I come over to later to discuss the "Plan"?

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Good question

4 March 2013, 15:45

Abso-fucking-lutely. I'll be home by 5.30.

Btw, it's nice to have you around again! ;.)

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Lovely

4 March 2013, 15:46

It's nice to have my life back. I'd forgotten what it was like to wake up in the morning and have absolutely nothing to do! Even at weekends I'd have loads of jobs because I never had a chance to do anything during the week. If only Toby were around, it would be perfect. Fingers crossed the plan works!

My dad is back from India by the way. And no, I still haven't told him what happened. He thinks Toby and I had a fight and are on a bit of a break. I guess I'll have to confess at some point, but right now I simply can't face telling him that his daughter lost her boyfriend because she got caught on camera making out in the back of a car with a famous footballer. Even writing it down is mortifying.

The good thing is that he and Mallika seem to be happier than ever. He said he had a brilliant time in India and didn't get ill once. Apparently, the only time he felt mildly uncomfortable was when he went for a massage and discovered that it was going to be given by a man. He said he just couldn't accept the fact that a man would be covering him in oil. I told him that perhaps, in that particular part of India, it probably wasn't considered appropriate for a woman to give a man a massage. He replied that whatever part of the world it was, it was never appropriate for a man to see another man in a pair of paper pants. I gave up arguing with him in the end - he can be very stubborn when he wants to be.

How did your rendez-vous with Spencer go?

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Lovely

4 March 2013, 15:48

I have no idea what I ever saw in that arsehole. I can't believe I wasted so much of my life running around after him.

The rendez-vous was AWKWARD. As soon as I told him about Ben, he adopted a kind of "your loss" attitude and wasn't even able to have a civilised conversation. In the end I just shoved his box of crap at him and left.

Also, Linda has (FINALLY) forgiven me. After what felt like weeks of the silent treatment, we eventually bonded over the following email from Dave:

Dear all,

I have had an abundant and premature sprouting of various winter vegetables which are frankly too much for one man to handle.

Please help yourself - my turnips are particularly tasty.

Dave

We both pissed ourselves when we got the email, and I immediately went over to say sorry properly. Linda was very gracious. She told me she wasn't remotely surprised that I told people my mum was schizophrenic because she was the scariest lady that she had ever spoken to. So it appears I'm not the only one who thinks my mother is a pyscho!!

So, THANK GOD, peace at work has been restored. The Meerkats hate me even more than they did before, but we've had a new guy start in the warehouse called Danny who they're all fighting over, and so fortunately I think they've forgotten about Ben.

Anyway, I won't waffle on now because I'm seeing you in a bit!

xx

18 March 2013

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Well?

18 March 2013, 9:02

Well? How did it go?

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Well?

18 March 2013, 12:00

Badly. He didn't even turn up.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: Well?

18 March 2013, 12:02

Bummer! I really thought Plan C was going to work. Maybe he didn't get the card?

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Depressed

18 March 2013, 12:03

He must have. I couriered it to his work! I really thought signing it from Norm would have appealed to his sense of humour, but I guess not.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Depressed

18 March 2013, 12:04

Did you hang around? Maybe he was running late?

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

No such luck

18 March 2013, 12:05

I don't think so Rach. I waited by Norm's enclosure for two hours! I think we're going to have to come up with something better. We've now ruled out quite a lot though so maybe I just have to accept that he's never going to speak to me again.

27 March 2013

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

CALL ME

27 March 2013, 19:45

Why aren't you picking up your phone?? I've had a brainwave. I think I may have found a way of getting Toby to speak to you! It's a bit sneaky though.

Call me when you get this!!

4 April 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Any luck?

4 April 2013, 10:05

How did Derek get on?

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Any luck?

4 April 2013, 10:45

Looks positive!! The curator is on board, but he has to get internal sign-off. Will call you later.

8 April 2013

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

What do you think?

8 April 2013, 13:40

Have attached my suggested design for the invitation. Do you think it looks professional enough? I had to virtually guide Gwen's fucking hand when she was putting it together, but I'm pretty pleased with the result.

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Wow!

8 April 2013, 14:05

It looks amazing! Thank you so much. Well if this doesn't give me the opportunity to speak to Toby, I don't know what will!

22 April 2013

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Status report required!

22 April 2013, 9:45

Isla

I haven't heard from you all fucking weekend!! How did it go?! What did Toby say?!

I really want to phone you but I don't want to interrupt anything!!!!

Rach x

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Status Report

22 April 2013, 11:42

Things went even better than expected!

Please say thank you to Derek – the curator told me afterwards that had it been anyone else, he would never have let me do it. He also said to let Derek know that he owes him a pint!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Status report

22 April 2013, 11:45

I'll tell him. Are you going to tell me what happened then?! Did Toby suspect anything??

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Re: Status Report

22 April 2013, 11:50

He didn't suspect a thing! He said that when he arrived at the front desk and handed over his personal invitation to a Natural History Museum late night seminar on "Habitat Erosion - the Challenges of a Changing World", it didn't even occur to him that it was anything less than official. He also said that it wasn't until he was escorted away from the main lobby and told to go and wait by the stuffed animal display that he thought it strange that nobody else was with him. Then when he saw me sat on a picnic cloth on the floor with two pints of Guinness and all his favourite foods laid out in front of me (I'd even put together a plate of black jelly babies, which had taken seven packets to assemble) he said that he knew deep down he would eventually have to forgive me.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

And then what?

22 April 2013, 11:58

What, he forgave you just like that?! Surely you had to grovel!?

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: And then what?

22 April 2013, 12:00

God yes! Toby must have asked me about a thousand different questions before I could convince him that it had been a one-off and that I hadn't actually slept with him. He also said that if I even so much as looked at another man again, he would walk out and never come back. But he also said that he's been miserable the last couple of months, that I was all he ever thought about and that living with Neil had made him realise how awful co-habitation with the wrong person can be!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Re: Re: And then what?

22 April 2013, 12:06

Did you tell him about your job?

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Re: Re: And then what?

22 April 2013, 12:07

I think that's what sealed the deal. I've never seen anyone look so happy! It was adorable.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

**So**... **.**

22 April 2013, 12:08

So what's the plan? Are you going to move back in together?

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: So **...**.

22 April 2013, 12:10

We're going to give it a go. He came round yesterday morning to help me pack up my stuff (no one packs better than Toby). It was sad saying goodbye to Joyce, but she's now decided to sell the house and go and live with Ernie in Liverpool. So she won't be by herself for very long, which is good. Did I tell you I'm going to be a bridesmaid by the way?!

I am so glad that everything is almost back as it should be. Just looking at Toby this morning made me realise that he's the one that I want to spend my life with. The fact that I might have ruined it all to have a fling with Alex makes me feel sick to the stomach.

Are you free on Wednesday evening by the way? I thought it might be nice for Toby to meet Ben.

13 May 2013

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Guess what?

13 May 2013, 9:09

Why aren't you picking up your mobile? I have something important to tell you!!

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: Guess what?

13 May 2013, 9:15

Sod it, I can't wait any longer.

Toby and I are getting married in three months' time!!

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

No way!

13 May 2013, 9:18

For God's sake Isles, can't a girl even go to the toilet anymore?!

No fucking way!!! Sorry, I mean, congratulations!!

But I didn't think you even wanted to get engaged?

To: zoom2rach@surf.com

From: visitisla@surf.com

Re: No way!

13 May 2013, 9:25

Neither did I! But things have been so good since we moved back in together and as soon as he asked me, I just felt a rush of complete elation. I told him that nothing would make me happier, and that with no job for the time being, I could spend all my time planning the wedding! But he then said that he had one condition - that I do the wedding on a budget. I have to admit, that was a whole lot less palatable, but when I looked at his hopeful little face, I just melted and said I'd marry him in a bus shelter if that was what he wanted.

So, I am utterly relieved to say that Toby and I are officially back on track and are getting married!

I don't think I've ever been so happy in my entire life.

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

Amazing news

13 May 2013, 9:27

That's incredible, Isles. I'm so happy for you.

Am looking forward to helping you plan! I've got loads of ideas of ways you can save money. Have you ever considered having your wedding reception on a canal boat??

16 August 2013

To: visitisla@surf.com

From: zoom2rach@surf.com

End of an Era

16 August 2013, 9:30

Hi

I know you probably have better things to do right now than check your emails, but AS USUAL I have nothing to do at work today and I just wanted to let you know that I'm so excited about your wedding!

Just think, in approximately 30 hours' time, you are going to be Mrs Isla White! God, that's so fucking funny. Still I suppose it could be worse...

Personally, I can't believe that YOU of all people are actually having your wedding reception in your local pub, although it's true, they do make the best steak and ale pie I think I've ever had. The bit I'm looking forward to the most though is your dad's speech! I bet he'll go on for fucking hours!

Anyway, I'm conscious that I'm waffling so I'll get to the point. I just wanted to say that you have been such a great friend and I'm so flattered to be your only bridesmaid. It's a shame that the Gina shoes that you'd planned to buy me one day are now off the agenda, but the ones that I've got instead are very nice.

So, that's it really. I'll see you tonight for your final night as a single woman!!

Ben just asked me to wish you the best of luck as well. He also says that he promises to make sure that Toby behaves himself tonight.

Lots and lots of love

Rachel xx

Ps. Don't bother picking up a copy of this month's Okay magazine. You won't enjoy it. The title on the front cover is "Bafta Winner Sets up Shop with Spurs' Number One Player". It doesn't make for a fun read.

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