I followed him to the coffee machine, where he was sticking it. Surely enough, it was a note of encouragement, complete with a tiny illustration of Maeve as a superhero, cape and everything.
‘Bet you wish you’d taken GCSE Art like me.’
I touched the tiny doodle cape, smiling. ‘Sometimes you do surprise me.’
‘I’m the gift that keeps on giving.’
We heard Maeve stirring in her bedroom.
‘Murder plans aside, I have literally no fucking clue where this has come from.’ He kept his voice down. ‘Have you heard from him since?’
I shook my head, although I’d been so wrapped up in Maeve’s crisis that I hadn’t even charged my phone last night. So much for replying to Isaac. He’d probably moved on to another match. I plugged my phone in now, ready to fire off some apology texts to Isla and Joe.
‘I did think he seemed on edge last night,’ Rory was still musing, ‘but I assumed it was the train journey.’
I took another big swig of coffee before packing my bag. ‘I think that was the final straw.’
‘Doncaster train station has a lot to answer for. Right, you ready?’ Rory started towards the door.
‘As I’ll ever be for a finance meeting.’ I downed the rest of my caffeine, grabbing my phone on the way. I had one text from Dad, checking I’d got home okay, and some drunken messages from Isla and Joe in the group chat. Nothing from Isaac, which was unsurprising since it was my turn. I quickly responded to him, knowing that I wouldn’t get another chance until this evening. We were having a conversation about food markets in London. I was team Spitalfields all the way, obsessed with the viral crumble stall where you could get all crumble, no fruit. He had declared himself more of a Borough guy, prepared to stand in an hour-long queue for mushroom risotto. I could work with that. Within seconds of my response, I had a notification from Level.
Congratulations! Next level with Isaac unlocked.
Shit. This was big.
‘Penny Webber, don’t make me get the DLR without you.’
‘Sorry, sorry.’ I raced after Rory, loading up Isaac’s profile so that by the time we stepped onto the Tube, I could immediately start scanning his photos. Not that I was shallow. I wasn’t. But there was no denying that it mattered, at least a little bit.
‘What are you doing?’ Rory leaned in so close that I could smell the coffee on his breath. ‘Are you on Level?’
I pushed him away gently, too engrossed in Isaac’s photos to start debating my dating life. Up until now, I’d known more about what his Labrador looked like than what he looked like (sleek black coat, a bit on the tubby side, a childhood pet who was finally slowing down in her older years). Now, I could see him in all his glory. He had five photos uploaded to his profile: one that someone had taken across from him at a restaurant (I squinted – it looked like pie and mash, five bonus points); one with what I presumed was a best friend, looking flushed and happy; one with him and the Labrador; another one with friends; and then one in front of a Christmas tree, elf hat and all. It was a good selection of photos that said sociable but dependable, interesting but not wild. He was averagely built, with a hint of muscle and short brown hair. In two of the pictures he was wearing reading glasses.
‘Looks like a catch.’ Rory was still staring at my screen. ‘Even if he does wear an elf hat pretty badly.’
I stared up at him; when we were standing side by side on the Tube, he towered over me. ‘Don’t be bitter because you thought I wouldn’t see the challenge through.’
Rory scoffed. ‘That isn’t the reason.’
Aha. I started to say: ‘Oh, so you admit it, then?’ before the buzzing of my phone pulled me out of the conversation.
Isaac: At last, the mystery is over.
‘So predictable.’ Rory pressed the button for the doors to open at Bank. ‘I wonder how many times he’s used that one?’
I ignored him, smiling at my screen against my better judgement.
***
Despite the flurry of downloads when we’d launched, Level wasn’t yet in the same realm of popularity as some of the other dating apps on the market. Loyalty took time, and we were still very much in our fledgling phase. When we’d been in the very initial stages of the app – and by that, I mean sitting on Rory’s bed with an A4 refill pad – money had felt like Monopoly cash. Nothing felt real yet. Years later, when we felt our pitch was spot on, we’d presented at a crowdfunder and gathered enough interest to get things off the ground. Now we had to prove we were worth every investor’s time. In Harriet’s experience, partnerships with other start-ups were an effective profile-builder, and we were also conscious of any new investment: brands who had spotted our launch and wanted in on the action. Between the core team (Ella, Harriet, and Andrew – our accountant) we had biweekly meetings to make sure we’d never go bankrupt. And luckily for us, the team understood that as much as we liked owning a business, Rory and I had always had a passion for the programming.
‘Okay.’ Harriet held up her iPad, scrolling through a press release. ‘I think this new app, GetThere, is one you guys are going to feel passionately about.’
I’d looked over this one in the email she’d circulated ahead of the meeting: an up-and-coming app that compiled all the available transport in a certain area, so that anyone travelling home at night (or any time of day) could make it there safely. They’d started testing it out here in London to make sure every Tube, overground and bus route was accounted for, looping in taxi companies for the final leg. Once they’d cracked London, their plan was to widen the coverage to include the whole country.
‘There hasn’t been a lot of press coverage so far, since they haven’t even officially launched yet, but what there has been is overwhelmingly positive.’ Harriet pulled up the logo, a little lilac bus. ‘I think our users would benefit from this.’
I could tell from the look on Rory’s face that we were on the same page.
He went first. ‘I’m in. I think it’s a great idea.’
‘Ella?’ Harriet panned around the table.
Ella, who had been tapping her pen against her chin, nodded. ‘I think the ethics of the app align with ours, and the work we’ve been doing to verify each user that downloads Level. A safe night out is a good night out.’
She was referring to the extra level of protection we’d added to the coding a couple of months ago: a verification process upon sign-up, requiring you to take a live photo. The app then used facial recognition technology to verify that you were the same person as in your uploaded photos. It was one of the hardest parts of the app to nail down but had been a non-negotiable for both me and Rory. Nothing was worse – or more potentially dangerous – than a catfish.
I threw my hat in the ring. ‘I like it. I’d use it, and I’d recommend it to my friends. People need to feel that they can safely make their way home from a first date.’
Andrew, who very rarely spoke up unless it was absolutely necessary, interrupted. ‘I think it’s a wise decision. Start-ups banding together to promote safety might draw in some new investment.’
‘Okay, it’s unanimous. We’ll reach out to them. And now,’ Ella moved onto the next point on the agenda, ‘for the weirdest offer of the week.’
On the agenda we’d received yesterday, this item had been extremely vague, simply titled ‘Discuss New Opportunity’. When a point on a meeting agenda lacked detail, it usually meant that either Rory or I wouldn’t be the biggest fan.
‘I’m on the edge of my seat.’ Rory shuffled forward to emphasise his point. ‘Which one of us was the reason that this was the vaguest agenda point in history?’
Ella coughed. ‘We’ve had some contact from the team at Link.’
