The Proposal Plan. Charlotte Phillips

look at him last night, sulking into his whisky glass at the end of the table. I’d be surprised if he said more than ten sentences to you all night. Why does he think it’s OK to treat you like that? He might have had a bad day, but that’s no excuse. I’ll tell you why—it’s because you let him think it’s OK.’

      She looked at his serious expression. The problem with her friendship with Gabriel was that their usual sparring was self-perpetuating. She heard herself talk to him sometimes and thought she really was just arguing for argument’s sake because she never wanted to be the one that gave in. She couldn’t fail to see that he had a point and she would be an idiot not to accept it. Too tired to keep bickering, she sighed. ‘OK, OK, I’ll admit I can see where you’re coming from.’

      To his credit Gabriel obviously knew her well enough to restrain himself from making any gesture or sound of triumph, simply nodding in agreement, and so she felt able to continue calmly rather than taking the plunge back into the row that any crowing on his part would have provoked. ‘Where do we go from here, then?’ she asked. ‘I’m putting myself in your hands.’

      He began jogging lightly on the spot. ‘Well, the next logical step is your appearance, of course. We’ve covered your social life, we’ve looked at the way you react and respond around Ed. Now, you need to make him sit up and take notice. We start with how you look and then we move on to the way you behave. Right?’

      ‘Right,’ she repeated, with more conviction than she felt.

      ‘Good,’ he said in a businesslike tone. ‘Then as you’re obviously desperate to quit running you can go home now. Meet me on Thursday night in the city centre.’

      Her heart sank.

      Lucy locked the door of the cake shop behind her and listened until the alarm system finished beeping and set itself before heading to her battered yellow Mini car. It was already dark outside and she cursed the car’s next-to-useless heater, which roasted her right foot but left the rest of her freezing cold as she made her way through the steady traffic into the main city centre. Towards the shops. The knot in her stomach wouldn’t go away. She didn’t like clothes shopping and applauded the ascent of the Internet, where she could buy what she wanted online in the comfort of her own sitting room, a cup of coffee to hand, and send back anything she didn’t like. She had aspirations to extend her cake business one day to encompass online shopping.