don't bother getting up the next day. I ring the office at half past nine and croakily tell Jo I think I've picked up some kind of bug, and then burrow back under the duvet and sleep for another hour.

At half ten I wrap myself up in the duvet and collapse on the sofa, and for the next hour and a half I watch crap daytime television to take my mind off the fact that I am on my own again, and that I have been a complete fool.

Because how can you tell your friends that you were so desperate to get married you said yes to the first candidate that asked, even when you didn't feel anything for him other than mild irritation and occasional bursts of friendship?

How do you say that you have spent the past few months planning, in meticulous detail, your wedding day, without giving a second thought to what lies beyond?

How can they understand that, despite my independence and so-called career, I was swept away by a fantasy, seduced by a lifestyle, and that I am evidently far more shallow than even I ever dreamt?

The day passes in a bit of a blur. I try not to think about it too much, which is bloody difficult, because when I do I just feel enormously sad, and when Jo rings from the office and says I've had an urgent message to call Amanda, I think, fuck it, at least it will take my mind off things.

'Amanda? It's Libby.'

'Darling!' she exclaims. 'Poor you! They told me you were ill and I said it could wait, but your receptionist insisted on disturbing you at home.'

A likely bloody story. Jo would never insist on something like that, and I know that Amanda would have demanded that they give her my number.

'I'm okay,' I croak. 'Just a bit under the weather.'

'You'll be fine soon,' she says breezily. 'It's just that I had a message from Cosmo this morning about wanting to interview me, and I wondered whether you could ring them back and set it up.'

She rang me at home for that? When she could quite easily have picked up the phone herself and called, but then again, I suppose Amanda has to pretend she's a megastar, and hence cannot talk to anyone personally.

'Sure,' I sigh wearily. 'I'll ring them tomorrow.'

'Great!' she enthuses. 'Oh, and by the way, I had such a lovely time the other night. You're so lucky, getting engaged! To Ed McMahon!'

'Actually,' I groan, knowing that if I don't tell her now she'll be furious when she eventually finds out, 'actually it's all off.'

I think she stops breathing.

'Amanda? Are you still there?'

'Yes. Sorry. It's just that you two seemed so perfect together.'

'Well, we weren't.'

'But you're still together, surely, just not getting married yet?'

'No. It's over. Finished.'

'Oh my God, poor, poor you. No wonder you're not at work. Are you okay?'

'I'm fine, and anyway, it wasn't his decision, it was mine.'

'You're kidding?' She's laughing.

'No. Why?'

'You dumped Ed McMahon?' she splutters. 'Are you completely mad?'

'Jesus, Amanda, if you think he's so great, why don't you go out with him?'

There's another silence.

'Sorry,' I mumble. 'I didn't mean to be rude. He's just not for me, that's all.'

'Right. Right. I completely understand. Oh well, plenty more fish in the sea,' and a few seconds later she tells me her call waiting's going and she'd better answer it, so we say goodbye.

For a few minutes after I put the phone down I feel pretty damn awful. I mean, what if this is the last opportunity I'm ever going to have to get married? Maybe I have done the wrong thing. But then I remember his sad expression, his moustache, his habit of speaking French, and I know that I could never have gone through with it. Not for all the money in the world.

Later that afternoon, when Jules has left the fourth message of the day, I pick up the phone and she says she's coming over to check I'm okay.

'You look terrible,' she says, as I open the door, still in pyjamas.

'Thanks,' I mutter. 'What did you expect?'

'Sorry, I just didn't think you'd be this upset. You look like you've been crying for weeks.'

'That's how I feel.'

'Come here,' she says, giving me a big hug, and when we pull apart I put the kettle on and make some tea, and we sit down as I give her all the details.

'I can understand how hard this is for you, but now you've got to get on with your life, and look on the bright side. You'll never make the same mistake again.'

'I know,' I sigh. 'It's just that he seemed so hurt, he seemed to be in so much pain, and I don't think I've ever caused anyone that much pain before, and that hurts me.'

'You were, as the saying goes, cruel to be kind. Far better to have done it now, you know that.'

'Yes. I do know that. Oh God, now I've got to start going to parties again and getting back into that bloody singles scene.'

'It's the best way of getting over someone.'

'But I really don't want anyone else. I just want to be alone for a while.'

'What about Nick?'

I shake my head. 'I'm not ready for anything. And Nick isn't what I'm looking for either. Although,' and for the first time in what feels like days, a glimmer of a smile crosses my face, 'although it might be worth it again for the sex.'

'Don't you dare!' admonishes Jules. 'You're not getting into that whole just a fling business again.'

'Jules?' I sink back into the sofa and start giggling, 'You know what? Thank God I'll never have to sleep with Ed again.'

Jules starts to laugh. 'Was it really that bad?'

'No,' I say. 'It was worse.'

We carry on talking about it, and Jules makes me cups of tea, and generally treats me like an invalid, but I start to feel better, and as we talk I realize that, however upset I am, my foremost feeling is one of relief.

And then suddenly, unexpectedly, the doorbell interrupts our conversation, and we both jump. Jules looks at me and whispers, 'Are you expecting anyone?'

'No,' I whisper back. 'Shit, I hope it's not Ed.'

'Do you want me to get it?' she says, as I nod and settle back into the sofa, knowing that whoever it is Jules will send them packing, and praying that it isn't Ed, come to change my mind.

She comes back into the living room and right behind her, literally on her heels, is the very last person I expect to see right now. Nick.

Fuck.

He looks embarrassed. I want to die. I look like shit. My hair hasn't seen a brush since sometime early yesterday evening, I have no make-up on, save smudges of mascara underneath my eyes, and my winceyette pyjamas are hardly the stuff you'd want anyone other than your best friend to see. Ever.

'Umm. Hi,' he says, as I wonder what the hell he's doing here and what the hell right he has to look so gorgeous when I look so terrible, and why the hell I didn't make an effort today just in case.

But what is he doing here?

'What are you doing here?'

Before he has a chance to answer, Jules, grinning broadly, has slipped her coat on and is already inching out the door. 'Gosh, is that the time?' she says. 'Must be off. I'll call you later,' and with that she's gone.

'So?' I persist. 'What are you doing here?'

'I was in the neighbourhood and just happened to be passing, so I thought I'd drop a note in to apologize for what I said.'

'What were you doing in this neighbourhood?'

'Umm.' I can see him desperately trying to think of something, and I watch him as his eyes flick around the room, looking for help. 'Umm, I was dropping a video back.'

'You borrowed a video from Ladbroke Grove when you live in Highgate?'

'Oh, okay. So what? So I called your office and they said you were ill and I thought I'd come and see if you were okay, and I feel so guilty about all that stuff I said, and everything else, well. Umm. You know…'

'There was no need to lie about it.'

'Nice pyjamas,' he says, as I flush with embarrassment and tuck my legs underneath me to hide the faded knees (I told you they were old).

'Oh shut up and leave me alone,' I harrumph. 'Are you going to sit down or what?'

He sits. 'So,' he says, drumming on his knees, 'how are you? You don't look ill, but,' and he peers at me closely, 'you do look a little bit awful.'

'Did you come here specifically to insult me or was there another reason?' I say, forgetting quite how terrible I look because quite frankly I no longer give a damn.

'Sorry, sorry. Anyway. I bought you a present.' He fishes around in the pocket of his overcoat and, with a flourish, brings out a jar of Nutella.

'Nick! That's my favourite!' I'm already salivating as I reach out and grab it from him.

'I didn't want to bring you flowers,' he says, grinning sheepishly. 'That would be far too predictable. Anyway, that's my apology for the other day. I really am sorry, I just couldn't help myself.'

'S'okay,' I say, already undoing the cap and digging my index finger into the Nutella, sucking it clean, making noises of ecstasy.

'That's disgusting,' Nick says, watching me. 'Can't you use a spoon or something?'

I hold the jar out to him. 'Want some?' and he grins as he digs his index finger into the jar too.

'So,' he says eventually, 'everything okay with Ed?'

'What do you mean?' I ask slowly.

'Well, it's just… after Saturday… I… well. I just wondered if everything was okay.'

I sit for a few seconds debating whether or not to tell him, but I know he'll find out sooner or later, so he may as well hear it from me.

I take a deep breath. 'Actually, no. It's not.'

Nick raises an eyebrow questioningly.

'It's over.'

'Oh my God,' he says, genuinely shocked. 'Not because of me? Not because of what I said?'

'No, you arrogant bastard, not because of you. Well, maybe a bit because of you, because I realized that you were right. Everything you said was true. He isn't what I want and in the long term I don't think it would work out.'

'Jesus, Libby. I'm really sorry.'

'Yeah, you look it.'

'No, really. I am. I don't know what to say.'

'There's nothing to say. It's fine. I'm fine. It's just one of those things.'

'Do you want to talk about it?'

'There's nothing really to say. I kind of got swept away in a fantasy without thinking about what the implications were, and luckily I realized in time.'

'Is Ed okay?'

'I don't know. I told him last night and he didn't say anything.'

'What? Nothing?'

'Nope. Just sat there not saying a word all evening.'

'Jesus,' Nick exhales loudly. 'Poor bastard.'

'I know. I feel like a total bitch.'

'No, you're not a bitch, Libby. At the end of the day you were just being cruel to be kind.'

'Funny, that's exactly what Jules said.'

'But it's true, and he'll get over it, he'll find someone else. You will too, you know'

'Forget it.' I shake my head vehemently. 'That's it. I'm taking a vow of celibacy. The last thing in the world I need right now is men.'

'Even me?' I look up, and even though Nick is gorgeous, even though I do fancy him, I'll probably always fancy him, I know that I can't deal with this right now, that the last thing I need is to get involved with Nick on the rebound, so I shake my head sadly as I look him in the eye and try to smile.

'No,' I say softly. 'Even you.'

Olly phones the next day.

'I heard,' he says. 'Mum called me this morning to tell me how upset she is. Are you okay?'

'I'm fine, Oll,' I say. 'I still feel a bit bruised, but actually I'm starting to feel relief.'

Olly starts laughing. 'I didn't want to say anything at the time but he was awful, you know.'

'What?'

'Oh, come on. I can say it now, but he was a pompous old fart.'

I can't handle hearing this from someone else I love. Sorry, not that I love Nick, but this is all a bit much for me. 'Oll! Don't be so nasty. He wasn't that bad. Jesus, we only broke up a few days ago.'

'Libby, I've never said this about any of your boyfriends in the past, but if you'd have married him I think I would have disowned you.'

I'm truly, truly shocked. 'Did you really feel that strongly?'

'Sorry, Libby, but not only was he fuck ugly, he was arrogant too. His only saving grace, as far as I can see, is his money. Oh, and the fact that he adored you.'

I wince as the reality hits home. 'Do you think everyone felt the same way?'

'I wouldn't like to hazard a guess. Look, I'm sorry if you're upset by this, but it's over now, I didn't think you'd mind me being honest.'

'No,' I sigh. 'I don't. I just feel really stupid, but you know, Oll, he really wasn't a bad guy.'

'Okay, fine. But he wasn't for you.'

'No. I know that now. So has Mum forgiven me yet?'

'Nah. You know Mum. It'll take her about ten years to stop blaming you for finishing with Ed McMahon.'

'God, she's annoying. You'd think she'd have a bit of sympathy.'

'Well, if it's any consolation she did say that she understood how you felt.'

'You're kidding!'

'I know. I was as surprised as you. I think she's dreading telling the neighbours, but, from what she was saying, I think she knows that it wasn't really right. She started banging on about her and Dad, and how in love they were. The woman's finally gone completely round the bend.'

'Oh, Oll,' I laugh. 'You will never know how relieved I am.'