Emma drills you in girl psychology!

The rest of the hour proceeds under a much more positive atmosphere, although Emma insists on drilling you in girl psychology. Literally drilling you – ‘you’ve gotta practise this stuff,’ she tells you bluntly, ‘it doesn’t come naturally. Okay, let’s say… I’m a stressed-out reporter, and you’re my loving boyfriend. Yeah, that’ll work. Pretend I’m Lois Lane or something. Ready?’

You huff a long breath out through your mouth. ‘Sure, whatever, go on.’

Emma yawns artificially and looks at you out of the corner of her eye. ‘You know, I really fucking hate my job sometimes. Every day they’ve got me doing something else stupid.’

‘Maybe you should quit?’ The word comes out practically unbidden. Emma makes a buzzer sound with her lips that’s so realistic it startles the old ladies in the next booth.

‘Wrong! But that’s okay, we’ll do this again in a minute. Just keep saying the first thing that comes to mind.’

She flips her sunglasses down and gets back into character. ‘I like the actual writing part, though!’ she says plaintively. ‘It’s just all the marketing bullshit that annoys me.’

‘Maybe you could ask to do less of it?’ Emma makes a face, but you plough on regardless. ‘Or just try and focus on the good stuff?’

‘I already am!’ There’s a note of genuine irritation in Emma’s voice now. ‘Oh, shit – I was supposed to hang out with my best friend today! I completely forgot… she’s gonna be so upset.’

‘I’m sure it’ll be fine,’ you tell her, with the vague but **** feeling of grasping at straws. ‘She’ll understand, don’t worry.’

‘But she’s going through a really hard time at the moment!’ Emma scowls at you. ‘How would you feel if I flaked out on you?’

You open your mouth and shut it again. ‘Um… I think I’d be okay? If you called me afterwards?’

‘God…’ Emma’s head drops. ‘Can’t you just listen for once?’

Then her head pops up again, and she smirks. ‘Jesus fuck. Wow. Okay, see, this is why we drill.’

Five minutes later, after some intense coaching, Emma slides her sunglasses on, and starts again.

‘You know,’ she says exaggeratedly, ‘I really fucking hate my job. Sometimes. You wouldn’t believe the amount of shit they pile on at the last minute.’

You take a deep breath in through your nose… and then exhale.

‘Oh, really?’ you say carefully, trying your best to look concerned and sympathetic.

Emma smiles slightly. ‘It’s the marketing bullshit, that’s what annoys me. The actual writing part, I like.’

You can almost feel the gears jump in your head. ‘Um, yeah,’ you say slowly. ‘You’re really good at it, too.’

Emma throws you a surprised look. ‘Thanks, babe. It’s just having to do a column about all this celebrity bullshit every week. I mean, there’s gossip and then there’s bitching, you know what I mean? And my editor’s an asshole. I was all ready to go home early when he springs 800 words on me – how not to fuck up your marriage by forty, in by 9am tomorrow.’

Emma gives you a meaningful stare, and you snap to attention. ‘Awh, sweetheart,’ you say, testing the words. ‘How’d that make you feel?’

The corners of a grin poke at Emma’s cheeks, but she’s a good actress. ‘Pissed off!’ she says loudly. ‘I mean, it’s Friday, for fuck’s sake! Where’s he get off pulling that kind of shit?’

‘Yeah,’ you say, gaining confidence, now. ‘That’s really crappy of him. Anyone’d be pissed off at that.’

Emma nods. ‘Thank you! It’s just… oh, fuck, I completely forgot to call my best friend today!’ Her hands fist angrily. ‘She’s going through such a hard time at the moment… rats.’ She stares down at the table. ‘I’m such a bad friend.’

‘You’re just an extremely caring person,’ you counter, getting the hang of it, now. Emma nods microscopically, like, bring it home, kid. ‘Sometimes you care too much. She’s lucky to have you, seriously. Now c’mere and give me a cuddle.’

Emma bursts out laughing. ‘Fucking nailed it, man! Put it there!’

She high-fives you across the table. Behind you, the two old ladies who’ve been listening exchange small smiles.