The Wedding Date (17 page)

‘Thank you, Patrick.’ Clara dabs at Graham’s jumper with a dove grey napkin. ‘Have you told Delilah about your promotion?’

‘Gosh! No, I haven’t!’ Patrick shifts in his seat so that he’s facing me properly, not noticing that the movement causes Graham to slosh wine down his jumper. Clara mops up the mess while an oblivious Patrick launches into the tedious details of his career path.

It turns out that Patrick isn’t the mayor of Dullsville after all. He is the emperor and I am one of his subjects.

‘Are you still at McVitie’s?’ Veronica asks once Patrick has thoroughly bored me to tears. I could quite literally weep right now.

‘I’ve never worked for McVitie’s.’

‘Delilah’s at Brinkley’s,’ Clara says and all eyes turn to me.

‘Is that a bank?’ Patrick asks.

‘It’s a biscuit factory.’ I can’t help smiling to myself as Clara’s eyes widen in horror.

‘A luxury biscuit manufacturers.’ Clara has always been embarrassed by my job. She was furious when I decided not to go to university, telling me – quite adamantly – that I would never make anything of myself if I didn’t. ‘And Delilah is in the office, not on the shop floor. She’s a PA.’

‘I’m an admin assistant, actually.’

Clara gives a wave of her hand. ‘It amounts to the same thing, really. Anyway, who’s ready for dessert?’

Clara and Graham jump to their feet and start clearing the plates, which are all almost as full as when we started. Patrick leans in towards me again, his breath hot and fishy and wafting all over me.

‘I love a good biscuit.’ He licks his lips as he traces a finger up my forearm. His voice is low and husky, meant for my ears only. ‘Digestives. Custard Creams. Hob Nobs.’ He raises his eyebrows at me and my chest begins to tremble. Does he think he’s being sexy? I press my lips together to prevent a giggle from escaping. ‘Are you a dunker, Delilah?’

‘I’m not a huge fan of biscuits myself. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth. I prefer cheese.’ I jump out of my seat and cross the kitchen, offering to help Clara and Graham with the dessert.

‘Isn’t Patrick a sweetheart?’ Clara asks as she arranges mini meringues on top of the sundaes she and Graham have created in tall glasses. ‘I think you’d make such a lovely couple.’

‘Don’t even think about it, Clara. It isn’t going to happen.’ There is no way I’m becoming the empress of Dullsville.

Chapter 18

Matchmaking

Text Message:

Clara:
I know you said no more matchmaking after the little Trevor thing, but Graham has this friend. He’s newly single and a little bit shy about meeting women but I know you’ll love him

Delilah:
No

Clara:
He’s a SENIOR PARTNER, Delilah!

Delilah:
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no x infinity

Clara:
You are so immature. Perhaps you’re not a good match for Brian after all

I somehow managed to talk Clara down and I’m relieved to tell you that Cupid has put his arrows away and will not be striking me and Patrick any time soon. Clara hasn’t quite given up though – I could see it in her eyes, that steely determination to make my life as miserable as possible. She casually mentioned that Patrick will be at her thirtieth birthday party so now I have to rack my brains for a legitimate reason not to go. Perhaps I can throw myself down a flight of stairs and snap a few bones the day before? Or somehow infect myself with a nasty (but not fatal) disease? These may seem like pretty drastic measures, but I really, really don’t want my sister setting me up with her slimy friend. Besides, I have a month until Clara’s party, which is plenty of time to come up with something a little less painful.

‘You could bang your head, have a sudden but non-permanent bout of amnesia and forget who Clara is and that it’s her birthday,’ Lauren suggests. We’re sitting in The Farthing, waiting for the quiz to begin.

‘Or I could fall down a manhole – or at least pretend to – and say I’ve mangled my legs too much to leave the house.’ I like this idea better than the flight-of-stairs tumble – pretend injuries are a much more palatable idea.

‘Or – and this is a crazy thought here – you could just say no.’ Ryan widens his eyes and mouth in a cartoonish look of shock. ‘No, Patrick, I would not like to go out with you. Thanks for asking.’

Lauren and I gasp.

‘I can’t say that!’

‘She’ll hurt his feelings.’

‘But do you actually care about his feelings?’ Ryan asks me. ‘You can’t stand the bloke. You think he’s a toad.’

‘Toads have feelings too, you know.’ I shift under Ryan’s incredulous gaze, feeling wholly inadequate. I know I should be more assertive but the truth is I’m a great big wussy pants. It’s like when Denise shoves a shopping list of non-work-related items at me and orders me to pop to Sainsbury’s. I should tell her to do one, to get off her butt and do her own weekly shop, but I don’t. I scuttle off and pick up the items for her family dinners and bathroom activities. It’s quite nice to get out of the office and she does pay for a taxi there and back, but the principle is wrong. Yet I go along with it for a peaceful life.

‘When have you ever said no to your mother?’ I shift the focus onto Ryan, who is also a big wussy pants when it comes to Eleanor and her matchmaking. ‘You went on three dates with that girl last month. You said she had teeth as big as Shergar’s and the personality of a bone-dry dishcloth yet you still took her out for dinner. Three times.’

‘I was scared she’d attack me with her giant gnashers if I tried to put a stop to my mum’s meddling,’ Ryan says.

‘So how did you get rid of her?’ I narrow my eyes. ‘You’re not still dating her, are you?’

Ryan shakes his head. ‘I accidentally let slip that I have herpes. Which I don’t, obviously. But it did the trick. She made up the usual excuse of us having no chemistry and I haven’t heard from her since.’

‘You really are a pig.’ Lauren gives Ryan a withering look before turning her attention to me. ‘What are you going to do now?’

I shrug my shoulders. ‘I’m running out of ideas. I’ve tried online dating – which will not be happening again, let me assure you. And I’ve run out of places of interest to meet men. We’ve already tried the gym, the pub and Ryan’s football matches. I don’t have any more interests unless you count sitting on my sofa watching musicals and I don’t think Danny Zuko is going to pop out of the screen and sweep me off my feet.’ I smile at the image. If only! ‘Do either of you know anybody you could set me up with? I trust your judgement far more than I trust my sister’s.’

Lauren shakes her head. ‘If I knew anybody date-worthy, I wouldn’t still be single.’

I turn to Ryan and he shakes his head but he won’t meet my eye. ‘Setting people up hardly ever works out. Just look at me and the women my mum sets me up with. Have any of them ever worked out? Nope.’

‘I don’t want anything to “work out”. I just want to go on a few dates with the guy and then take him to Francesca’s wedding.’ Which is getting scarily close, FYI. ‘Do you honestly not know anybody?’

Ryan shifts in his seat and starts to fiddle with the beer mat on the table. He does know somebody!

‘Come on, Ryan. Spit it out,’ Lauren urges. ‘Otherwise she’ll have no choice but to go out with Patrick.’

I grasp hold of Ryan’s hand and give him my best pleading look, my eyes as wide and as watery as I can manage. ‘Please don’t make me date Patrick.’

‘I don’t know…’ Ryan tugs his hand away and avoids my Bambi-eyes. ‘What am I supposed to do when you dump him after the wedding?’

‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,’ Lauren says. ‘Just tell us who it is.’

Ryan throws back his head, emitting a defeated sigh. ‘Fine. His name is Ricky. He’s the new PE teacher at school. If you come to my next football match he’ll be there and I’ll introduce you.’

Leaping out of my seat, I plonk myself on Ryan’s lap and give him a noisy kiss on the cheek. ‘You, Ryan Ford, are the best.’

***

Adam and I have never met up outside of work before. We sometimes sneak across to the pub at lunchtime but this is different. We’re meeting up at a pub, but it’s in the evening and well away from the office. The photo booth promo turned out to be a massive success, gaining thousands of new followers across all of our platforms, plus more retweets, shares and comments than we’ve ever had before – collectively. And the best part was a segment on Granada Reports. I mean, if you blinked you’d have missed it, but there I was on the local evening news, having a great old laugh with the public in my tutu and fairy wings. The item was then picked up by The Woodgate Advertiser which, while only a free local newspaper, is publicity all the same – and Mum took great pride in cutting out the article and attaching it to her fridge with a Chester Zoo magnet. The same article is now sitting in a frame in Neville’s office.

‘He’s worth his weight in gold, that one,’ I heard Neville telling Denise the other day as they had a sneaky cig outside. I was on my way back from delivering a set of updated health and safety forms to Fred O’Mara on the shop floor but they didn’t see me as they were huddled in the gap between the Portakabin and the metal fencing. Slipping into the office, I relayed the titbit to Adam and we had a celebratory cup of tea and Adam made a risky dash into Neville’s office to raid the biscuit tin.

Neville was so thrilled with the results of Adam’s photo booth campaign that he’s upped the social media budget so we’re having a second celebration. We could have invited the others but, well, they’re Brinkleys and the idea of spending more time than necessary with them wasn’t so appealing.

I’ve made sure the pub we’re meeting in isn’t The Farthing as I’m still avoiding Dan (who also seems to be avoiding me as I haven’t seen him on a quiz night for ages now). Adam is already sitting in the pub when I arrive and I notice a couple of girls eyeing him up. I emit a telepathic back-off message but by the way they’re giggling coquettishly and duck-facing at him from across the room, they haven’t received it. I’m overcome with a territorial urge as I march towards Adam.

‘Hey you!’ My voice is loud and vibrant and I find myself planting a kiss on his cheek. If that doesn’t tell the girls to back off… well, they’re just a pair of hussies. Adam looks taken aback by my greeting but he soon recovers.

‘Sit down. I’ll get you a drink.’ Adam goes to stand up but I place my hands on his shoulders and push him back down again.

‘Let me. We’re here to celebrate your achievement, remember?’ I flash the girls a triumphant look. The girls seem to have moved on and are currently pouting at a couple of blokes playing pool but I keep my eye on them as I wait for our drinks at the bar. Adam is my friend and I’ve come over all toddler-like in my inability to share.

‘Ah, you’re a pint girl,’ Adam says as I return with the drinks. I’m a bit nervous when he says this but he grins at me and I relax. Ben didn’t like me drinking pints, claiming it made me (and therefore him) look like a chav. He preferred it when I chose a glass of wine or a gin and tonic (yuck).

‘Sure am.’ I clink my glass against his. ‘Cheers.’ I take a sip before sitting down on a stool, making sure the girls are in my eye line. I watch as they sashay across the room towards us but they sail straight past and, wriggling their fingers at the barman, step out of the pub. I feel myself relax now the competition has left.

Competition? What the hell is wrong with me?

‘I’m sorry, what?’ Adam has been talking to me but I’ve been too bogged down with my own thoughts.

‘I said do you play pool?’ He nods to the now vacant pool table.

‘Not very well but I’m willing to give it a go.’

‘Adventurous. I like that.’ Adam grins at me and I feel my tummy do something peculiar. Something it hasn’t done for a long time. I’ve had the odd fluttery-tummy incident since Ben but this is different. This is a serious case of the butterflies.

Adam and I grab our pints and take them through to the pool room. Unsurprisingly, Adam is a much better pool player than I am, but it doesn’t matter as we have a laugh, even if we are often laughing at my atrocious shots.

‘You really are rubbish,’ Adam laughs, stooping to pick up the white ball, which I’ve just sent flying off the table.

‘Hey!’ I pretend to be offended but the truth is I’m having a great time. We’ve spent the evening teasing each other and my stomach is starting to ache with all the laughing we’ve been doing. Why couldn’t the dates I’ve been on recently have been this fun and relaxing? I feel so at ease in Adam’s company, like I’m spending the evening with an old friend. If I’m honest, I was never even this carefree with Ben as I always thought I had something to prove. On that first night, he claimed I was fascinating and I really tried my best to live up to his expectations but the truth is I never felt good enough for Ben. I let him down continuously but I know if he gave me another chance it would be different. I would be different.

Chapter 19

More Dates

Text Message:

Ryan:
She got in touch! I told you she would. She wants to see me again

Delilah:
Even after you pushed her in the lake?

Ryan:
I did not PUSH her in the lake. I slipped, reached out to steady myself and ACCIDENTALLY knocked her into the water. Yeah, I’m surprised she got in touch too, actually

I find myself getting ready for another date. After being introduced to Ryan’s work colleague, we swapped numbers and arranged to meet up during the week. He seemed nice enough when we met at the football match – fun and friendly and didn’t seem to harbour any resentment against his exes – and Ryan assured me that he wasn’t married or a member of a talentless band. Or any band, for that matter.

Ricky has chosen a bowling date, which I’m pretty pleased about. I love bowling (apart from the smelly shoes) so it should be a fun date and much more relaxed than sitting opposite each other in a restaurant. I dress in a pair of jeans and a nice, floaty top before making my way into town and to the bowling alley. I’m early but Ricky is already there, waiting in the arcade. He’s tall and slender without being lanky and has closely cropped gingery/brown hair and pale freckles. At the football pitch, Ricky had been constantly grinning, displaying a good set of teeth and a cheeky, flirtatious style but right now his face is sort of scrunched up as he bashes away at a video game in the arcade. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody look so animated as he uses his whole body to play. His fingers control the character on the screen but his legs are getting in on the action too as he hops up and down and bounces in rhythm with his fingers and his head dodges this way and that as though he’s being physically attacked. Suddenly he slams the button one last time before he raises his fist, punching the air with a whoop of unadulterated joy. I can’t help smiling as he celebrates his victory.