The Singalong Society for Singletons. Katey Lovell

Issy has become my partner in crime, that’s mostly through circumstance. She’s a wonderful friend, but Connie and I have been a duo since childhood and there’s something incredibly special about a friendship that’s lasted twenty years. There’s no need for pretences between us and we’ve forged an open honesty that makes for an easy relationship.

      The other beauty of a long-term friendship is how there’s no need to explain the difficult moments from our pasts. I already know how horrific it was when Connie’s mum died. I’d been there with her that September day when Connie had been called to the headmaster’s office to receive the news. And Connie had been there for me during my own challenging moments too, not just recently but also during my parents’ separation and the subsequent messy divorce, and through Mum’s transitions to Mrs King, then Mrs Peto, then Mrs Davies as she’d tried to find true love. What Connie and I have been through together transcends everything else. For all the friends I have, I don’t have another friend like her.

      ‘I leave at the end of October and it’ll only be for four weeks, so I’ll be back in plenty of time for Christmas. You’re not getting out of getting me that Kiehl’s hand cream that easily,’ she jests.

      ‘If you come back safe, sound and happy, it’ll be the one year I don’t begrudge paying crazy money for your luxury lotions and potions,’ I reply with a half-laugh. I’ve never succumbed to the high-end products Connie swears by, instead bulk buying whatever’s on offer when I go to the enormous chemist’s in town, but Connie is the epitome of brand loyal. When she finds something she likes, she’s with it for the long haul, which I suppose is the biggest personal vote of confidence I could have, considering how long she’s been part of my life. From pigtails and scraped knees to lip gloss to jagerbombs, ‘Mon and Con’, as our dance teacher Miss Gemma always calls us, have come a long, long way.

      I grin as Connie blows me a kiss. With her dip-dyed hair and bright red lips she reminds me of a pin-up girl. Not to mention her new-found confidence and self-belief.

      ‘We’ve got a few more weeks yet before I go,’ she says. ‘Which is just as well as I have tons of stuff to sort out before then. There’s injections for yellow fever and hepatitis A and I need to buy mosquito nets and anti-malaria tablets…’ She’s counting things off on her fingers as she reels off her list.

      ‘Malaria?’ Hope asks with concern. ‘Don’t people die from that?’

      ‘I’ve been reading about it online. It spreads quickly out there, but it’s easy to protect yourself with a course of tablets. I’m going to make an appointment with the doctor next week and see what else I need to do.’ She grins at the thought. ‘I can’t believe I’m actually going to Africa!’

      ‘You’ll have the best time,’ Issy says. ‘And who knows? Maybe you’ll find the love of your life out there too.’ She waggles her eyebrows in a way that I presume is supposed to be suggestive but comes off as more pantomime baddie than sex siren. ‘I’ve never really believed that true soulmates would live just a few streets apart.’

      A scowl unwittingly creeps up on me. I can feel my jaw tightening in annoyance at the remark. Issy knows that Justin and I lived just around the corner from each other until he left. What’s she implying? That he has a better chance of finding someone he wants to spend the rest of his life with now he’s on the other side of the world because it’d be too easy if true love was ready and waiting on the same street, or the same estate, or in the same city?

      ‘Stop looking at me like that, Mon,’ she says. I feel like a small child being summoned and chastised. I suppose I should be grateful she’s using actual words rather than a whistle à la Captain von Trapp. ‘You know what I mean. It’s a bit convenient to fall in love with someone who has the same background as you, lives in the same area, went to the same school… I’m not saying it can’t happen, I’m sure it does, but how many people settle for someone just because they’re right at hand? There are seven billion people in the world. It’s highly unlikely the one true love of your life is even in Britain, let alone Sheffield! If people stretched their wings and searched the world for their partner, maybe there’d be more happy endings. Maybe less divorce, too.’

      ‘And now you bring up divorce,’ Hope says drolly, smacking the heel of her hand into her forehead. ‘Nice one, Issy. Talk about double whammy.’

      ‘I’m not speculating about specific cases here,’ Issy insists, although it still feels as though this is aimed at me. ‘I’m making the point that there’s something to be said for looking further afield when it comes to romance, that’s all. Not every boy next door is worth pursuing.’

      ‘Hmm,’ I murmur noncommittally. Issy’s trying to dig her way out of this but she’s so damn defensive. Why not just come clean and make it blatantly clear that she’s referring to me and Justin? Although I come across as confident and perky and uber-positive, I’m a sensitive soul. My friends’ opinions matter to me more than they realise, and I hate any form of conflict. It unsettles me, propelling me right back to the loneliness of mine and Hope’s childhood bedroom where we’d lie awake as Mum and Dad argued downstairs, their raised voices seeping through the ceiling. They had been painful, lonely nights, and we hadn’t had a Frauline Maria to reassure us with chirpy tunes about raindrops on roses. Hope, as the older sister, had allowed me to snuggle into the top bunk with her when the rows got particularly loud and frightening, but the memory was still there, ingrained deep.

      One of the things that appealed to me most about Justin was his coolness. He was always on a level, not hot-tempered like my dad. He hadn’t ever been the rash, impulsive type – at least, not until he went to live in Chicago with a fortnight’s notice.

      I miss him. We hardly speak these days, more broken up than on a break. The distance is one issue, the time difference another. It’s all well and good having the technology to speak to each other, but we’re both working long hours in demanding jobs. With the best will in the world, I don’t have the energy to stay up until midnight to talk to him after working with the children all day, and when my alarm goes off in the morning he’s tucked up in bed ready to get some well-earned shut-eye. Our lives aren’t aligned any more, it’s unsettling.

      Mother Superior belts out ‘Climb Ev’ry Mountain’ and I close my eyes, singing it like a hymn or a quiet prayer. I feel as though I have a hundred mountains to climb myself, because however much I try to kid myself that everything’s okay, I’m not over Justin Crowson. Not by a long stretch.

      *

      The audible snuffles of the four of us ring out through the room as the final credits roll. We sound like a herd of baby hedgehogs.

      Issy’s the first to pull herself together. ‘I think we should be celebrating Connie’s bravery. She’s going to a whole other continent. We should drinking fizz. I’m going to head down to the corner shop and see if they’ve got a bottle of something nice. This calls for Prosecco.’ She slaps her hands against her thighs as though she means business.

      Hope groans, clutching the flat plane of her stomach. ‘I’ve drunk far too much already, and I’m meant to be getting my hair done in the morning. The last thing I want when I’m hung over is someone pulling at my head.’

      ‘Just have a small glass, then, just to make a toast,’ Issy replies sensibly, grabbing her jacket from the small brass hook on the back of the door. It’s supposed to be specifically for my keys but Issy is forever using it to hang up her coats. She insists it’s easier than taking her jacket to her bedroom upstairs and I’ve given up complaining about it. At least it’s marginally tidier than her previous ‘coat rack’ – when we first moved in together I had to have words with her for constantly leaving her jackets draped over the back of the armchair in the lounge.

      ‘So long, farewell!’ Issy calls tunefully. She’s in a good mood, if her spritely voice is anything to go by. There’s no sign of remorse for her scathing comments.

      ‘Auf wiedersehen, goodnight,’ Con and Hope sing in response as the door slams behind Issy. The three of us remain slumped in our seats, even though the DVD has already