The Sister Surprise Abigail Mann (most difficult books to read TXT) 📖

course there was footfall; it’s literally the busiest train station in London. ‘We had fourteen couples take part in spontaneous dates whilst we were there.’ A bicycle courier stayed on for five dates, asked me to watch his bike, and chomped on antipasti for the best part of an hour. ‘And seventeen of them downloaded Lovr to start chatting with the person they’d had a date with.’ Okay, this one’s a flat-out lie. They’d signed up because I said they’d get a push notification when we’d be there with free food again. Half of them had deleted the app in the hours that followed when they were prompted to fill out a profile.

‘Seventeen?’ Mitchell says, looking at me over the rim of his glasses, which I’m pretty sure aren’t prescription.

‘Er, yes. Yes. Seventeen.’ I glance down at my notes, half expecting a number to magically appear that would sound more impressive. I have circled two figures, neither of which are seventeen, and one has a heavily pencilled question mark next to it. Thank you, Past Elissa. Very useful.

‘Because if it was seventeen, not every couple signed up. So where’s that extra person come from?’ Mitchell asks. Jonathon slips into a wry smile and presses his fingertips together in a pyramid. Shit.

‘Um, well—’

‘An interrupted download could account for the mismatched figures. This has happened over at MeowCall in the past when users are hooked into public WiFi networks. What I did notice –’ Suki swipes quickly on her iPad, her mouth pursed to one side and her cheekbones sharp in the uplighting from the screen, ‘– is that conversion rates from first and second connection users had a sharp increase in the hours that followed Elissa’s pop-up.’ She looks around the room expectantly. ‘Which is a sign that those who came across the booth told friends and acquaintances about the app, and they in turn downloaded. That kind of traffic is a far more valuable metric of engagement, because it’s word of mouth.’ God bless you, Suki. I have no idea what she’s talking about, or if it’s even true, but by Christ I could lean over and kiss her beautiful bald head.

I adjust my stance and put a hand on my hip, closing my notebook with a twang of elastic. Mitchell is nodding, which doesn’t mean I’m entirely in the clear, as his facial expression rarely matches his mood. But then he traces a circle on his tablet and the office solar shades oscillate to let daylight in. I mouth ‘thank you’ to Suki, who sticks her tongue out in way of reply.

Jonathon gets up with such alacrity that his yoga ball bounces out of its chair frame as he strides towards the kitchen. ‘Drink tonight?’ Suki says as she slots her iPad into the pocket of her lime-green dungarees. The tech team have been moved up to the second floor as a better access point for the six start-ups that share The Butcher Works, a co-working space with a very expensive postcode. As a result, Suki and I don’t see each other every day any more. I’m glad I got to know her when we shared a desk, because she’s way too cool for me and I would never have approached her if I hadn’t seen her playing Neopets when I know she was meant to be editing code.

‘I can’t. Tom’s heading off on a Vegas stag do tomorrow and I should really get home to see him.’

Suki pulls a face at me and makes a gameshow ‘whamp-whamp’ noise.

I do love Suki. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever met and is so perceptive. When Mitchell or Jonathon have said something really tactless, or I’ve accidentally deleted all my scheduled tweets, Suki is there, pinging me an inappropriate emoji or giving me an excuse to go upstairs to the break-out space for a bit of venting. She’s mentioned going out before, or has loosely asked if I’ll join her at a Saturday-morning HIIT gym in Hoxton, but the actual invite rarely follows. We became chummy really quickly, but I’ve only seen her once or twice outside of work and she often cancels plans at the last minute. She’s always popping up on my feeds doing something fun, usually on a Saturday night when I’m halfway through a tub of Nutella. If she knew how little I had going on in my life outside of this building, I worry she’d drift even more.

‘Hang on, isn’t it your birthday soon?’

‘Yeah … wait, what’s the date?’ I say.

Suki perches on the front of Adam’s desk, leans backwards with enviable core control, and wiggles the desktop mouse. ‘The sixteenth.’

The sixteenth? Well, that’s crept up.

‘Christ, it’s tomorrow,’ I admit. ‘Twenty-six. Had to think about that for a second.’

‘How could you forget?’ says Suki, slinging an arm across my shoulders.

‘I’m not sure. I’ve already had my birthday present from Tom, so I’ve not been looking forward to anything. Like an “event event”, you know?’

‘Right, that’s it then. It’s decided.’ Suki thumps me triumphantly on the chest like we’re about to run onto a football pitch. ‘We’re going to Snatch on Saturday.’

‘That’s your favourite club, not mine.’

‘You say that now, but when you’re grinding along to 90s hip-hop without any dudes trying to grab your arse, it’ll be your favourite as well,’ says Suki. She bites her tongue between her teeth and clicks her fingers, rolling her body as she walks backwards towards the office kitchen.

‘That does sound good.’

‘So, it’ll be me, you, Jazz—’

‘What happened to Fiona?’

‘Ah, we broke up. Long story. Your friend, what’s her name? The teacher?’

‘Maggie?’

‘Yeah, Maggie. Get her along. And your other friends, whoever!’ Suki lowers her voice. ‘Shall we invite Mitchell?’ she says, wiggling her eyebrows.

‘God, no!’ I laugh, racking my brain to think of these ‘other friends’ I supposedly have. Suki shoves a filter in the coffee machine and tips in an alarming mound of ground coffee beans.

‘Mine first for a cheeky drink and then I’m popping your Snatch