A few days later, towards the end of Wednesday afternoon, I find myself thinking that midweek evenings are really rather boring. I've been trying not to think about Diana too much, and realise that looking forward to seeing her formed quite a part in my life – a sort of ever-present background hum of pleasant anticipation, which is now no longer there. It may have been only a short-lived thing, whatever Diana and I had, but it was no less seductive for that. Also, maybe Catherine was right. Maybe it would do me good to make a bit of an effort for once, go out and try to meet people instead of waiting for them to take an interest in me. So I make my mind up to try the local place in town again. I've only been once or twice, so maybe I should give it another chance.

After tea, I redo my make-up and nails, dig out a cute little black dress I haven't worn since university, slip on some sexy heels and head out to our town's one and only gay bar.

I'm not sure why I expect it to be like the nice place from the weekend, where I met Catherine. It's as shit as it was the last time. Apart from three lads around the pool table and a group of four or five people in one corner, it's pretty empty. It's clean and tidy enough, but the décor is on the shabby side and the cushioning on the seats looks a bit old. I sit on a stool at the bar and wait for someone to notice, while I try to decide what to drink. After a while, a bored-looking bloke in his late twenties appears from somewhere and apologises to me. 'Sorry, love. It was that quiet, I was having a quick smoke out the back. What can I get you?'

'Half of cider, please.'

He starts to pour it. It's not a brand I know, and I frown as I take a first sip. It's not very nice. Oh well. He busies himself with something or other but keeps an eye on me. 'Meeting someone are you, love?'

I look around the pub. 'Um, I don't know, I didn't really have a plan. It doesn't look likely, does it?'

He laughs. 'I meant, like an arranged meeting. But no. Depends what you're into, of course.' He smirks and raises an eyebrow. I nod to let him know I know what he means. He breathes out again and grins. 'We don't have many of anyone in during the week, to be honest. And Wednesday night's a big night for the Smutty Duck, traditionally.'

I feel my heart sink. 'Is it? You mean the place in town?' The place I'd been in at the weekend, in fact. It's really called the 'Black Swan', but its nickname seems to be much more popular. And distinctive.

'Yep, there's only one Smutty Duck, love. You been?'

I smile ruefully. 'Yes. Once.' I sip more cider. 'It seemed nice.'

'Best place for a long way, in my book. For this sort of place, I mean.' He smiles. 'Wednesdays they have a disco night, Fridays a DJ, Sundays a quiz. Plenty of the sort of people you'd want to meet, as well.' He waggles his eyebrows knowingly. 'You know, all the right things?'

'I was there on Saturday, I found it by chance while I was shopping. I didn't get home till Sunday afternoon.' I grin at the expression of shocked interest that flits across his face.

He recovers himself but smirks again. 'Ooh, well now. That must have been some party.'

I laugh. 'Actually it wasn't much busier than this, but I got talking to someone.' I push my glass around the bar top a little bit. 'She doesn't want to see me again, though. But, it was a nice weekend while it lasted.'

He frowns sympathetically and pretends to be busy with some glasses, but I can tell he just doesn't want to appear nosy. I have a short debate with myself about officially becoming a relationship bore (two unsuspecting barmen in a week is careless.) But I decide this one's probably as in need of entertaining as Nick was on Saturday. And technically we're talking about a different relationship at the moment. I drink a bit quicker and he points at my glass. 'Another half, love?'

'Thanks.' I fish about in my purse for the money and push it across the bar. 'You're going to think I'm a bit of a fuck-up for this, but the woman I, um, got to know on Saturday was just a distraction from someone else.'

His eyes light up and I know I've played my man right. Maybe my new purpose in life is to entertain bored gay barmen. He puts a fresh glass of cider in front of me, pays the cash into the till, then turns back to lean on the pumps. 'That sounds like a good story, if you can't decide who you prefer.'

'You're bored, aren't you?'

'Out of my tiny mind, love. So feel free to go ahead and gossip at me, please.'

***

I only have the two halves. But I have a nice chat with the barman, and he suggests I try the place, the one we're actually in, again on a weekend. He also backs Catherine up, by trying to persuade me that I'm too young to lose my heart to some “pussy hound”, when I should be out having fun and working out what's right for me.

Finally, he strongly recommends Friday nights at the Smutty Duck. 'Specially if you make a habit of looking like that, love, with your legs.' He waves a hand down my dress casually. 'You'll be fighting them off.'

***

It seems polite and sensible to leave when I do, but I'm all dressed up with nowhere to go, so I head off for Lizzie's pub, texting Michelle on the way. We meet up there to have a few drinks, but I don't want to go crazy having already had a couple, and Michelle says she has an important meeting the next day. 'It's where we start getting everything properly in order for that case, Fi.' She looks at me sideways. 'How are you about her anyway? You know...?'

I tell Michelle briefly about my weekend. I say that I met someone who allowed me to imagine the Diana situation didn't matter, and that Catherine was able to reassure me that I wasn't as repressed as Diana liked to think, just because I wouldn't let her jump me whenever she wanted.

Michelle asks if I want to see Catherine again, and I explain that's not the arrangement. She asks what I'm going to do next, then, and I tell her about my abortive visit to the gay pub just now.

She thinks for a bit. 'Did you ever have something you fancied trying, like a hobby or something? I dunno, painting, or something?'

'Umm? Baking, maybe.' I wave my hand around and decide I'm getting tipsy. Time to go home. 'I've always been shit at making cakes, they never come out right. Why?'

Michelle stands up and signals it's time to go. 'Sponge not light enough?' I nod and she strokes my arm sympathetically. 'Me too.' We wave goodnight to Lizzie, but she's busy serving someone. 'Find a cake-making course, Fi. Learn to get rid of your soggy bottom. It'll give you a purpose in life, and then you can pass the tips on to me. I really want to make Toby a nice birthday cake this year.'

'Oh, so I get to be your guinea pig? I put all the work in on my soggy bottom, and you reap the reward?' Someone walks past us on his way into the pub, giving us a slightly alarmed look, and we start to giggle.

'Yep.' Michelle shakes out a cigarette and lights it. We walk away from the pub to the point where we go in different directions. 'It'll be good for you. And if it really works, I'll just buy the ingredients and shit and get you to make Toby's cake for me.'

We kiss goodnight on the cheek and toddle off in our different directions. On the walk home I reflect that actually Michelle has a point. I'd quite enjoy doing a light-hearted, fun course like that. It would make a change from spending my nights swotting over my accountancy exams, getting drunk and regretting the whole Diana business.

***

The next day, I check out baking courses available locally, and go and register in person with the nearest as soon as I finish work. No going back after that.

I'm due to start the following week, so in a burst of enthusiasm I go into town again on the Saturday and buy a few bits and pieces for the kitchen at home, so I can practise between lessons. It gives me a chance to go for a drink in the Smutty Duck again, as well, in the quiet of the afternoon.

I don't see Catherine - or Nick, for that matter. In fact, I just read over a half of cider and don't really meet anyone to talk to, but I don't mind. It's nice to have a little bolthole where I can feel emotionally at home for a while.

***

To my slight surprise, I really enjoy my new baking course – I find it's fun to be doing something after work once a week that is totally different. Something that also takes me back to weekends spent with my granny when I was small, making a mess of her normally so ordered kitchen. The other students are a laugh, and the tutor is such a sweetie. I learn that the physicality of mixing ingredients is good stress relief. I find I love kneading bread dough the best, after a tough day with the spreadsheets. The smells that fill the training kitchen as we all kick back with a cuppa and wait for the fruits of our efforts...well, even if the results aren't always perfect, the smells (and the pleasant, gentle chit-chat) always make the waiting worthwhile in itself.

Best of all, I do in fact learn how to never end up with a soggy bottom ever again.

***

I do also tentatively throw myself back onto the 'scene'.

I register with an online site and flirt with strangers I'm never likely to meet. I visit one or the other of the two bars at least once a week – occasionally meeting local people there I've happened to talk to online, more usually taking a chance on who might be in.

I see Catherine a few times, but only to wave at, over the dance floor of the Smutty Duck.

I swap numbers with a flatteringly reasonable number of people, and meet some of them again for a coffee or a film or some other sort of date. I have some more or less satisfactory snogs and fumbles on the dance floor or in a quiet, dark corner of the bar.

I sleep with more of them than I intend to.