She’s back! Emma Gannon the author of Olive has returned with Table For One, a hilarious, heartbreaking and relatable novel about what it actually means to be alone and the power and joy in dating yourself. Read on for an exclusive first look at the book…
A waitress with pink hair takes me to the table at Lina Stores; I’m a little bit late. I can see Pen, Lola, and Alice chatting away at the back of the restaurant. Lola is gesturing dramatically, showing them something, possibly the new green silk scarf she’s just taken off her neck.
"There she is!" Pen says, giving me a massive bear hug.
I sink into it, inhaling the familiar smell of L’Occitane body oil that she douses herself in regularly. Today, it’s underscored with something else – cedar or wood smoke, something masculine, and I wonder if she’s just come from a date with Mike. I feel a spike of annoyance (or envy?) – it’s been ages since I last saw or spoke to her – but it’s hard to be cross when she’s enfolding me in her arms.
She pulls out the chair next to her for me and rubs my arm. "How are you?"
"You know, just one foot in front of the other," I say, shrugging.
"So good to see you," Lola says.
"Your hair looks nice!" Alice says sweetly.
Pen puts her arm around me again. "Sorry it’s been so shit."
A waiter comes over, and we order a bottle of white wine.
"It’s OK. How’s Mike?" I ask. I don’t say I’m sad that she hasn’t rung me up to spill the juicy details of her new relationship. I expect she’s held back for fear of rubbing my nose in her coupledom after my break-up. Still, it makes me feel unusually distant from her.
"He’s good – thank you! I just came from his, actually. We’ve got the same day off for once. We’re usually on shift at the same time."
I wonder whether she’s annoyed that my lunch has got in the way of a potential romantic day together.
There’s a pause, but then the wine arrives, and Lola pours everyone a cold glass.
"How long has it been now, Pen?"
"Only a few weeks. It’s a bit intense after my decade-long drought, but we’re trying to keep things casual for now."
"So you’ve been spending a lot of time together?" I ask, not meaning to sound so direct.
"Yes, we have." She reaches for my arm again, but I pretend not to notice and pull it away to grab the water jug.
I’m happy for her – I really am – but I can’t quite bear her pity.
Pen chats a bit more about Mike and about how similar they are – neither of them want children; both work in the hospital, both really value their freedom; they’re both vegan (important); he’d rather eat his own toenails than eat a dead animal – but it feels awkward, and I can tell she doesn’t want to gush too much about him in front of me.
After our glasses have been filled, Lola hands me a big bunch of flowers and a voucher for Cowshed. "Look, just a little something from the three of us. Go and pamper yourself."
"Thank you," I say, my throat thick with emotion. It’s thoughtful of them, but it also shifts the already strange mood around the table. Now it feels like a ‘leaving’ party – for a life I didn’t choose to leave.
I just don’t think any of them get it. I can’t just slather on some Cowshed creams and move on as if everything’s fine. All I want to do is wallow at home in self-pity, comb through my ‘Dom’ folder on my phone and cry, ideally while rewatching A Star is Born.
I take a deep breath and confess that I’m not doing so well. "I’ve been writing letters to Dom on my typewriter. Is that really sad?" I don’t say some of the letters turned into ones to my mum.
"No . . . of course not," Alice says, gently touching my shoulder.
"I just feel like I need to talk to him, even though I can’t speak to him or follow what he’s doing," I say. "It’s so weird to just have someone there one minute and gone the next. He’s got this big new exciting life in New York already. I’m back in my childhood bedroom, in bloody Eastbourne." I can feel tears gathering, a scratching at the back of my throat.
"We can’t speed up the process for you, Willow, but we can eat our body weight in cacio e pepe with you," Lola says, picking up the menu.
"I’m so sorry. It must be like he has died," Alice says, looking at me sympathetically.
"If anything, it would be easier if he was actually dead," I say, "because then at least I’d know what he was up to . . . i.e., lying in a coffin."
"Jeez," Pen says.
"What?"
"Isn’t that a bit overdramatic? Look, I know it’s probably too soon for you to see this, but I’m excited for you. It’s a fresh start. A new you. An element of freedom that you haven’t had for years," Pen says. "Think of how much Dom held you back."
There is an awkward pause then.
I look at her, cheeks flaming, trying not to take it the wrong way.
Held me back?
Alice tries to change the subject, asking me where my jeans are from.
I look at Pen again. She seems different, lighter. She’s full of beans instead of her usual snark. Her skin looks great; her cheeks are lightly flushed. It’s like she can’t contain her newfound vibrancy, and it’s bouncing around the room.
Pen continues, topping up her wine glass: "Honestly, it’s quite fun being single, and once you get used to it, you attract better people into your life. I think we should be celebrating, not commiserating."
"Let’s not get into it, now," Lola says. "It’s too soon to think that far ahead. I think Pen is just saying she feels positively for you, Willow. A new chapter."
"You don’t even need to look far ahead, though. I’m talking about things you can do right now, like watching whatever you want to watch on TV. Eating what you want for dinner. Peace and quiet in the evenings. Star-fishing the bed. No dirty dishes in the sink or crusty shirts to iron. There are some upsides!" Pen says.
"I’m not quite ready to look at the positives," I say bluntly.
Lola and Alice watch us like a tennis match.
Over the years, as the single one in the group, Pen was always available to book tickets on the Glasto website or organise a girls’ trip away. Always happy to tag along with couples things, too, seemingly never worried about being the gooseberry. She was the friend who would take you on a night out and make you do karaoke if you were sad, and that’s why her lack of support is really noticeable. I can tell she is trying to be present, but she also keeps looking at her phone every five minutes.
A plate of oily focaccia bread arrives, and I tear it with my fingers. Even though Pen’s being insensitive, I know she’s kind of right. There are some positive things about starting a new chapter. Like the article I’m doing for Z Life.
"I have actually taken on something new," I say. "It’s a writing project from my old boss Elaine."
"Oh, that’s great," Alice says.
"That’s really good news," Pen adds.
"No way!" Lola says. "Mad Elaine from the D-Low days! Tell us more?"
I tell them about the original ‘Opposites Attract’ series and the bigger profile piece Elaine wants me to do. For some reason, I keep it vague about who my subject is. I’m not ready for them to know about Naz and her whole ‘be your own life partner’ ethos. Instead, I tell them about being called an ‘old millennial’ by Elaine.
"Oh man. I guess we are old now," Alice says.
"Yep," says Lola. "You know that bizarre client of mine – the one who wants the insane paintings at the wedding? She’s only twenty-two. A baby!"
"It’s just what young people do in the suburbs. They get married as soon as they can to someone they met at school," Pen says, with her mouth full.
I sigh. How did thirty-five creep up on us so fast? One minute, you’re making a big song and dance about turning thirty in a silver dress, and then bam: you’re in your mid-thirties and time has just flown and you’re looking forty square in the eye.
"What have you been up to lately, Alice?" I ask, happy to change the subject, as plates piled high with pasta arrive.
"Manifesting, mainly. Is that sad? While Luke’s been running Mystery Road, I’ve been making a vision board with a load of baby stuff on it. I have faith it will happen."
I realise in that moment that, since breaking up with Dom, I’ve not thought about babies at all. Poor Alice, cutting and pasting pictures of prams out of magazines. I let the thought of a baby hover and then float away, like a helium balloon. I close my eyes for a moment and make a wish for Alice.
The girls settle the bill, kindly paying for my meal. I give them all a big hug and promise I’ll come back up to London soon. I can tell by the way Pen hugs me quickly that there is a slight tension between us.
Table for One (Harper Collins) by Emma Gannon is available from 24 April.
