I wait and I wait but no phone call comes.
Bloody men. They're all the same.
Even Brett, despite him having shown signs of thoughtfulness yesterday. I should've known that he wouldn't call.
Perhaps he felt sorry for me and took pity on the poor lonely Northern girl who has nothing else to do all day except sit around in scruffy tracksuit trousers, feeling sorry for herself.
When he'd said he'd call he might've had every intention of doing so, but he'd probably forgotten, I decide.
I am the type of girl who is easily forgotten.
Jane has noticed, I suppose it would be hard not to, as I practically jump out of my own skin each time the phone rings. And then I'm torn between making a dash for it or letting her answer instead. Because I don't want to come across as desperate or too eager
