The ring of the message alert on her mobile startled her. Cathy realised she had been stirring the sugar into her cappuccino for ages – for much too long. She blinked and looked at the screen of her phone. Tiffany. She sighed. She’d obviously be having the coffee alone. As per usual. She licked the foam off the spoon as she opened the message, placing in order the likely excuses. First: I am so sorry, my alarm didn’t go off. Second: I am so hung-over, I can’t leave the house, and can you please do me the hugest favour and bring me a coffee? Please? Third: I’m not alone. (Giggling and some shushing of a boy in the background) Yeah, it was a great night last night, but I can’t make it. Fourth: Did we say ten or eleven? I’ve written down eleven, but I have a ghastly feeling… I’ll be there momentarily.
Cathy wondered if she should be so judgmental. She closed her eyes as the message opened.
“If it is not one of those, I promise I will never be judgmental of her ever again, I promise.” She thought to herself. She opened her eyes.
“Did we say ten or eleven?” Cathy didn’t bother reading the rest of the message. She turned her phone off and looked across the park, sipping her coffee and willing herself to be calm and tranquil.