Cloudy with a Chance of Love (10 page)

‘No I'm fine, thank you. I'm driving tonight, anyway. I'm just waiting for Sam, then I'm going home.'

‘Okay,' he said. Then he looked me in the eye and grinned. ‘Alone? Or do you want to come back to mine?'

‘What? That's a bit forward!' I was taken aback. After what Mick Jagger had said to me I was not impressed. Is that the vibes I was giving out? Because I had boobs and a big bum I was ripe and ready for it? Oh no. Was Lovely Ben not so lovely after all?

‘I'm only kidding,' he said. And he laughed out loud. I didn't know what to think. ‘I'm an idiot.' He was chuckling. Had he had one beer too many? I suddenly wondered if he was drunk. ‘But it
is
a shame for us to both go home empty-handed. We haven't fulfilled the brief. Would you like to go on a date?'

‘You mean
now
?'

‘No, not
now
! I really
was
only joking! Another night. Would you like to go out with me?' I was even more taken aback. It was a long time since I'd heard those words. ‘Tomorrow night, maybe?' He looked all young and boyish again.

I thought about it. Should I? Should I go out with him? I wanted to go on a few dates, didn't I? And I liked the look of him; he seemed fun. Plus, I'd come on a speed dating night: the whole aim of it was to leave with the promise of a date with a complete stranger. The night wouldn't be a disaster after all if I left it with a date.

‘I'm a nice guy,' he offered. ‘I promise. Tomorrow night?'

He did seem a nice guy, apart from that misjudged joke. I could let that one go. And he was asking me out. The sheer novelty value of it should make me say yes.

‘Yes,' I said. ‘Yes, I'll go on a date with you tomorrow night.'

‘Okay, awesome!' His smile was wider than ever. ‘Give me your number and I'll call you in the morning.'

‘Okay,' I said. I could never remember my own mobile number. I rummaged in my bag for my phone and he took his out of his back pocket. I read my number from my own list of contacts and he tapped it into his phone. Then, quickly, I gave him my office number as well.

‘Cool!' he said, beaming at me.

‘Great!' I said, smiling back at him. It was almost becoming a repeat of the eye-gazing round. I imagined that Nigel would appear behind us, egging us on. We carried on smiling at each other; it was getting slightly awkward. The arrival of Sam was a very welcome klaxon.

‘Well,
hello
, Daryl! There you are! I'm absolutely whacked.' She looked rather drunk, too. I recognised that face – smiley, giddy, sozzled. Oh, god love her! ‘It's crazy out on that dance floor.' She smiled at Ben. ‘So, what's going on here?'

‘This is Ben,' I said.

‘We're going on a date,' he added, with a grin, and raised his empty beer bottle to me.

‘Oh fabulous!' she trilled. ‘Oh, I'm
so
pleased.' Please don't overdo it, Sam, I silently begged her, and please don't say anything about the ninety-nine percent! She didn't. She gave Ben a playful tap on the arm and said, ‘Hey, I'm sorry I started asking you about your star sign and all that.'

She was
definitely
a little bit drunk, I could tell, but she was sweet when she was drunk.

‘No worries,' said Ben. ‘It's just not really my thing.'

‘Hey, it's fine. It's totally fine. I'm sure you and Daryl will have
so
much more in common. Oh, I'm so excited!' she yelped, jigging up and down. ‘A date!'

‘Yes, and it
is
only a date,' I said. ‘Calm down madam!'

‘Sorry,' said Sam, but she was still beaming. She gave me an exaggerated wink.

‘Right,' I said. ‘Shall we go, Sam? Have you had enough?'

‘I certainly have. They're about to put on a slow record,' said Sam. ‘I really don't fancy getting up close and personal with Justin No Snake, who keeps following me around and trying to get his hands on me. I fear he thinks he's at a school disco and he's going to make a lunge for me once they slow things down.'

Ben laughed and I glanced at him again. He was nice, wasn't he? A nice bloke. And I was going on a date with him. I felt like jigging up and down a bit, too. With a mixture of delight and nerves.

Sam was right. Sure enough, the strains of The Specials' ‘Ghost Town' started wafting over the dancefloor. And sure enough, Justin could be seen, at the edge of it, his hand up to his face like a saluting sailor, searching for Sam. Behind him people were making ‘woo' type faces and waving their arms around like wayward ghosts.

Of course, it was Halloween on Thursday. That had come around again quickly. I watched as people either shifted towards each other, half embarrassed, or leapt at each other like desperate meerkats. A few people made an obvious dash for the exits or the toilets. It wasn't an especially long song, but you wouldn't want to be in some undesirable's clutches for the duration. I remember it being very bad form to leave a slow dance halfway through.

‘I'll call you tomorrow then,' said Ben, getting up, and I was pleased he was going as I wanted to talk about him. He headed towards the bar, but he kept looking back at us as he walked away. Sam was rifling through her bag for something. He waved. I waved back. Then he was swallowed up into the throng.

Finally, Sam unearthed her lip gloss and we walked to the exit. The floor was slippery with spilt beer and shed sequins.

‘Lucky you, going on a date with him,' she said. ‘I quite liked him.'

‘Did you?'

‘Yeah! He's so cute. He's sweet! Don't you think so?'

‘Yes, he is sweet.' Suddenly I wasn't completely sure about him again. I wasn't sure about his joke.
Was
it a joke, or did he mean it? Was he
that
kind of guy? ‘He asked me to go home with him.'

‘Really? Cor, I would have done!'

‘I know
you
would done! It burns about a thousand calories doesn't it?'

‘Ha, yes, especially if I go on top!' She was grinning, highly sloshed. I put my arm round her to steady her.

‘Ha, ha.'

‘You didn't want to then?'

‘No, of course I didn't! I'd only just met the guy. Then he said it was a joke.'

‘Well, it probably was. Go out with him, Daryl! What have you got to lose?'

Only my dignity, my sanity, everything. Possibly my knickers.

‘Nothing, I suppose.'

‘Well, there you are then.'

Yes, there you are. I'd think about it properly once I'd got home and got the bloody Spanx off.

I dropped Sam off then drove home. It was late, almost midnight. I was very quiet as I locked the car and made my way up the drive. Will's kitchen light was on. I could see a shadow, moving about in there. Suddenly, he appeared at the window, looking all handsome and a bit dishevelled, in a white shirt. He smiled and did a half-wave; I smiled and did a half-wave back.

See you tomorrow, I said in my head. Then remembered I had the date with Ben now, too. How was I going to fit everything in? I solved it, easily: Will was coming at half five; I could make the date with Ben later on, say nine. I could fit everything in. And I hope you meant what you said when you told me you were good at decorating, I added silently, to Will, as I got my keys out of my bag and let myself in the house, because I really don't have a clue.

Chapter Eight

Tuesday

My radio alarm went off at seven. This morning I would have been woken by a jaunty Rick Astley number, but I was already awake, as Freya had rung me at six.

‘Mum!' she'd said, all chirpy.

‘Freya? It's really early, darling.'

‘Sorry!'

Freya is almost the exact opposite of me. She's very organised, has her life super-structured and is always up at the crack of dawn so she can start getting on with things. She was like that when she lived at home and she's still that way now, living with a bunch of her former Smith's Economics students at that house in Merton, and working at her first job, as an investment analyst (I know!), in a big company in Hammersmith. She got a first, as I knew she would (Economics! Where did she get that from?) and was doing brilliantly.

My girl. She's always been a driven, very motivated spirit. On her first ever day at nursery she'd run in without a backwards glance and it was the same at school. She never wanted me to meet her at the gate; she wanted to walk to the car. She resisted hugs and kisses; she was always too busy. I
knew
she wouldn't want to move into my new house with me – my hope that she'd be one of those offspring that stay at home until they're forty, eating their parents out of house and home and refusing to pick their feet up for the hoover, came to nothing. She's far too independent. But I had a bedroom here for her whenever she wanted it. Even if it was currently covered in Handy Manny wallpaper.

She'd looked after me for the last year – mopping up tears, making sure I was okay, doing things for me – but now it was my turn to mother
her
again. Starting with supporting her at her graduation on Friday.

‘I was going to ring you today,' I said. ‘About the graduation.'

‘That's why I'm phoning
you
, actually, Mum. I need to tell you something.'

‘Uh-oh, that sounds ominous. What is it?'

‘Gabby's coming.'

I sat up, violently, knocking my head on the headboard. Ouch.

‘What? She can't be! It's only two tickets per family!'

‘I know, but Dad sold the uni registrar's house for him, didn't he? So he called him and wangled another ticket.'

I groaned. ‘I don't believe this! You have to tell him she can't come!

‘I've tried, Mum, but you know what Dad is like. He said it's his decision and she's coming. That's that.'

Thank you very much Jeff
, I wailed internally. So he was still attempting to twist the knife. I was all right now, I really was. But this would be very, very tough. I hadn't seen Gabby since that morning, a year ago.

‘Well, I can't sit with them, I just can't! You don't mind, do you?'

‘I would never expect you to sit with them, Mum, don't worry.'

‘Okay, good. Oh, god, Freya, it's going to be awful.' Then I wished I hadn't said that; her days of supporting me and all my anguish were supposed to be over. I was being a terrible, needy mother again.

‘Mum, it'll be fine. You'll be fine. You'll just have to ignore them.'

I pulled myself together. Made my voice nice and steady. ‘You're right. Yes, darling I'll be fine. I'll be absolutely fine.' That's better. Stiff upper lip and all that; I could do this. For Freya. I could look that bitch in the eye and be strong. I hadn't done anything wrong.

Oh god.

Oh
god
. It was going to be bloody awful.

‘So, Mum, why were
you
going to call me about graduation?'

‘For the times,' I said, my mind still whirring. Gabby. Gabby was going to be there.

‘Service at seven. Graduation dinner at Caspar's restaurant at nine.'

‘Okay, darling.'

Seven o'clock. I was dreading the appointed hour already.

‘Hey, what were you up to last night?' she chirped.

‘How do you mean?'

‘You were out!'

‘How do you know?'

‘I tracked you. On the iPhone.' Oh yes. Freya and I had both got iPhones. They had GPS and you could track people. For ‘fun', Freya had said. It was really quite clever. I wished I'd had it a year ago; I could have tracked Jeff.

‘So you know exactly where I was, then.'

‘Yes, The Old Brewery, Wimbledon Village. What were you doing there and who were you with?'

‘All right, Herr Commandant,' I said. I might as well tell her. She might be impressed. ‘Speed dating night. With Sam.'

I could tell she was choking on her third cup of coffee. ‘Speed dating? Wasn't that a noughties thing?'

‘They still do it,' I said. ‘It's very hip.'
Hip
? What on earth was I saying? I was more hip
replacement
than hip, or at least heading that way. ‘They've evolved it. You now have to mime and stare into strangers' eyes for three hours.'

‘Really? It sounds horrific!' said Freya, but I could tell she was delighted. ‘I can't believe you went speed dating. You!' She was laughing. ‘Oh well done, Mum! That's fab!'

‘Thank you,' I said. I was waking up now, despite myself. The heating came on and things began to rumble in the airing cupboard. My tummy began to rumble, too.

‘So. Wow. How did it go? Did you meet anyone or was it just a load of middle-aged losers?'

‘
I'm
middle-aged, Freya.'

‘Oh, yeah. Sorry. I don't see you like you that.'

‘Thank you. Me neither.' I hated that expression, ‘middle-aged', although it was more than true. I doubted I'd live to ninety – not with the amount of chocolate I ate. ‘And actually, I got myself a date.'

‘Oh wow, well done you! Who with?'

‘A
middle–aged
landscape gardener called Ben, not that I see him as that, either. He's really nice. Quite good looking. I didn't actually meet him at the tables, as they call it. I met him at the end. During the disco.'

‘Congrats, Mum, I'm impressed. Landscape gardeners are so cool. Where are you going?'

‘I don't know yet. He's phoning me today. We're going out tonight.' Landscape gardeners
were
cool, weren't they? All that working outdoors, the creative nature of the job, being good with their hands… I started to feel quite excited about it. I remembered Ben's face – nice, cute, friendly and, above all, interested in
me
.

‘What are you going to wear?' I could hear her slurping her coffee. I could visualise her Minions slippers.