by Hannah Doyle
The Wedding Edit’s picture editor suggests we take a lunch break, which my stomach agrees is perfect timing. I was in such a rush this morning that I didn’t get a chance to open my post before I left the house, so I stuffed the envelope that had landed on my doormat into my bag. Usually post consists of bills and flyers enticing me to try yet more dirty burgers, but today a handwritten envelope come through. I grab my bag and step outside for some fresh air.
From out of the envelope I pull a postcard. The picture is so familiar yet almost forgotten. I stare at it, tracing the drawing with my fingers. It’s ‘Cat Does A Sick’, one of my first ever ‘paintings’. I made it with Dad while he was working in his studio. I haven’t seen it in years and yet here’s a copy of it, printed on a postcard.
I turn it over.
Dearest Jazzy
Remember this? I’ve got the original hanging in my workspace at home. I expect it to be worth millions one day!
I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you. You are making great things happen with work, far better than I ever managed. You have the determination and the talent to succeed and you are already doing so well. Remember those stars I told you to reach for? I think you’ve found some already.
I know it’s been tough, but I feel so grateful to have you back in my life now. You bring joy to my heart and I love you always.
Love, Dad x
I hold the postcard against my chest for a few minutes and place it carefully back in the envelope. When I get home, it’s going straight on my fridge. But for now, I’ve got someone else to go and say hello to.
‘She’s a fucking nightmare, Jasmine,’ Dave hisses.
‘I did actually tell you that. I worked with her for years, remember?’
‘Seriously, you need a medal. Last night she sent me out to get a bloody smoothie because she’d run out of coconut water and needed to “rehydrate” after pilates. I suggested tap water and she looked at me like I’d lost my mind. It was 10pm and all!’
I pat Dave on the back because I know how it feels to be Violet’s bitch. Though I must say I didn’t expect a cocky, world renowned photographer to get the same treatment.
‘You do have a choice, you know. You don’t actually have to date her?’
Dave looks like he’s mulling this over. Then he shakes his head. ‘I fucking love the girl, though.’
Yep, I did not see that one coming either. Dave and Violet have been an item ever since they argued about skinny jeans versus posh hotels at that art exhibition a while back. I fully expected it to last ten seconds, like all of those hot and fast relationships that burn too bright and too quick. But apparently it’s the real deal. I look at Dave, his face contorted in a combination of love-sick and terrified. Poor sod.
‘Shit, she’s coming back, pretend we weren’t talking about her,’ he whispers.
‘YEAH SO SHUTTER SPEED, WHAT YOU SAYING?’ I say, possibly too loud and definitely too obvious. Dave shoots me a look.
‘Talking about me, where you?’ Violet steps past Dave to give me some mwah mwah.
‘Busted. Dave really likes you, you know?’
I think he’s going to kill me. He’s looking murderously at the lens cap in his hand.
‘I do know,’ Violet smiles, crossing both hands on his shoulder and leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. ‘I like him, too. Can you believe it? We’re like, total opposites. I mean, he’s called Dave for a start. I’m more of an “Archibald” type of girl. And he pronounces it grass like sea bass, not grass like. . .’
‘Arse?’ Dave suggests, giving her perfect posterior a squeeze.
‘Exactly,’ she giggles, pretending to slap his hand away. ‘He didn’t go to university, he’s never done a summer cookery school and I’ll be honest with you Jasmine, I don’t even think we have the same political leanings. I mean!’ Violet’s eyes widen at the surprise of it all. I shoot Dave a look but he’s staring at his girlfriend, utterly mesmerised. ‘Dave could not be further from my type and yet. . .’
‘You can’t get enough of me,’ he grins, pulling her in for a proper kiss. She leaps up and wraps her legs around him. Blurgh.
‘Alright, enough,’ I grimace, eyes clamped shut. ‘I don’t need a free sex show, thanks very much.’
Violet drops herself back down and rearranges her skirt.
‘It’s really nice to see you,’ she says.
‘Yeah, you too,’ I reply, and I mean it. ‘When I saw Dave’s name down on the studio list this morning I thought I’d pop by when I got the chance. I really hadn’t expected to see you as well.’
‘He’s taking a few blog shots while we wait for my new photographer to start,’ she says. ‘And you’re not bad, are you poppet?’
Poppet? Dave snarls a bit and Violet barks back. I only realise that I’m physically backing out of the room when Violet pulls me back towards her.
‘How’s work?’ she asks.
‘It’s amazing. I’m doing a magazine shoot here today and the next few weeks are booked solid already. It’s bloody scary, not having a regular income to rely on, but I think it’s made me work even harder.’
‘I’m so pleased for you,’ Violet says, looking me in the eyes. ‘And I miss you.’
‘Do you?’ I sound more incredulous than I mean to.
‘Absolutely! Dave and I don’t get much done because he can’t keep his hands off me, and my new recruit isn’t nearly as talented as you. I’m thrilled that you’ve found your own path, though. And I don’t think I ever got the chance to properly say thank you for all that you’ve done for me over the years. Things were left a bit up in the air when we decided to part ways, weren’t they?’ We definitely didn’t decide to part ways. I smile at this piece of Classic Violet, always glossing over the truth to give things a peachier spin. If I remember correctly, I called her a monster and quit in a storm, but in a way it’s nice to see that some things don’t change. ‘Anyway, it’s great to see you doing so well and I just wanted to thank you for being such a huge part of my success. I’m really grateful.’
‘Wow, that really means a lot. Thanks, Vi.’
She shrugs it off and turns to Dave. ‘Babes, did you remember to add condoms to our online food shop?’
Dave is seized with a look of panic. He pulls out his phone while Violet huffs at his incompetence. I smile at the pair of them, one hundred per cent smitten and one hundred per cent bonkers.
Ben’s tongue is literally hanging out of his mouth and Mila does that classic mum move of tapping him under his chin to make him shut his gob. It falls straight open again as soon as she moves her hand away.
‘You’ve got it bad,’ I say.
‘So bad,’ he agrees, eyes still fixed on the door to the ladies’ loos.
‘Can you stop staring at the bogs though? It’s creepy,’ Mila adds.
‘I can’t help it. I just want to stare at her all the time. Right now I’m actually missing her.’
‘She got up to go to the loo one minute ago?’ I point out.
‘One minute!’ Ben cries out like he’s in pain.
‘So when did Ben become such a melt?’ Holly asks.
Mila and I laugh. Ben says, ‘I can’t even argue with that.’
‘I know we’ve got a lot of years to catch up on but back at school you were always so. . . take it or leave it. Wasn’t he?’ asks Holly. ‘Even the girls in the year above who fancied you didn’t get your heart racing, whereas we’d be writing our married names on notebooks if there were boys we liked.’
‘Ha, ha, HAAAAA! Do you remember when you had a thing for the French exchange, Jas?’ Mila snorts. Holly’s giggling too.
‘Pierre,’ I say the name slowly.
‘Pieeerrrrrrreeee,’ Holly and Mila mimic at the same time.
‘He was cute.’
‘Babes, you tried to switch A levels so you could study French and you took to eating baguettes at lunch,’ Mila replies.
‘That’s right! And you started wearing a beret,’ Holly chime
s in.
I push my plate back and look around the table. Mila, Ben and Holly are roaring with laughter. Every single one of them has a mile-wide smile and it takes seconds for mine to spread across my face.
‘I know! I think I might have written him a poem in French?’
‘Chère Pierre, je t’adore. . .’ they all start to recite and I sit back in my chair, soaking up their presence. After almost a decade apart, Holly has fit right back into our group and it feels so good.
‘She’s coming back,’ I say to Ben as I spot his girlfriend coming out of the loos.
‘Do I look okay? Have I got food in my teeth? And what the fuck has happened to me?’ he asks.
‘Yes. No. And you’re smitten,’ I reply.
Once I’d gotten over the shock that Ben was falling for the girl he met at the bar that time Mila tried to knock our heads together, I realised that Anita is actually perfect for him. She’s completely unphased by his shagger past, has the kind of killer confidence that lets her fit right in with his funny little group of female-only friends, and doesn’t let him eat all the food from her plate as well as his own. Anita is a keeper.
‘It’s been so nice to get to know you, thanks for inviting me to lunch,’ she’s saying now.
‘Anita, it’s been a pleasure,’ Mila says. ‘I don’t want to sound cliquey but basically, we all like you. Shall we swap numbers? If Ben does any tiny thing to upset you, let me know and I’ll have a word.’
Ben looks terrified.
‘Thanks,’ laughs Anita. ‘And let’s definitely swap numbers. Though, I was thinking we could maybe carry on hanging out? I know we just ate pudding but I could murder an ice cream. Does anyone fancy a walk along the river and then maybe a few drinks this afternoon?’
Ben looks like he’s about to propose. Holly and Mila both sign up for the plan. They turn to me.
‘I think I’ll pass,’ I say.
‘Did you not hear the bit about ice cream and then a bar?’ Mila’s confused.
‘I did. I also just spent lunch soaking up Ben and Anita’s beautiful new romance. You guys are so happy together and. . . I don’t know. I thought, maybe. . . I just have to go and do something, okay?’
My three best friends exchange looks. Mila looks triumphant.
‘Get it, girl,’ she grins.
I take a cursory look in the mirror and am pleased to report that there’s no food on my face. There is a bit of salad dressing on my sapphire blue jumpsuit but then when isn’t there some kind of spillage about my person? I might be bringing the sass these days but I’m still me.
I knock on the door and scan my work emails while I wait. It’s the weekend but I’m still so new at freelancing that I can’t really switch off and if there’s a spare minute, I’m hunting for new work opportunities. There are three new emails in my inbox but the door opens before I have a chance to read them.
And there he is.
‘Hi?’ He looks surprised to see me.
‘Hi,’ I bite my lip. I really haven’t thought this through. Back in the day, I’d practise a speech for 631 hours and then massively cock it up anyway. I guess now I’m just going to have to freestyle. ‘HI. Here I am.’
‘Here you are,’ he says, amused. He’s not opening the door.
I clear my throat.
‘So lately I’ve been wondering if you and I might actually. . .’
‘Go on,’ he folds his arms and leans against the door frame.
‘Lately I’ve been thinking that perhaps you are. . .’
‘I am. . .’
Right, for goodness sake just say it.
‘I thought we might have something.’
He’s raised an eyebrow. ‘Do expand.’
‘Basically, I think you’re great. Even though you’ve got a great big beard and a topknot. And what is even going on here?’ I ask, waving in the direction of today’s ensemble. ‘You’re kind of skinny, your eyes are grey, you are completely and utterly not my type. And despite all of that, I think I might like you. You’re kind. You’ve been such an incredible help. You look like a sexy Viking. You make me feel beautiful and you make coffee with my face on it that tastes very nice. You believed in me when I didn’t. I don’t think I’d be where I am today without the help you’ve given me. . .’
I pause. Embarrassed, I meet his eyes. He’s giving nothing away.
‘Plus, there’s no one else I’d rather sit around at home wearing my hot pink house leggings and eating noodles with.’
Still nothing.
‘And I think I’ve got a crush on you. I really could not have foreseen that I’d develop a thing for red heads at the start of this journey.’
Note to self: add body language classes to your to do list. I literally cannot read what Arnie is thinking right now. He’s just been leaning against the door looking down at me this entire time.
Hmm. Still no response. Maybe I got this wrong after all. I mean, Pie with My IT Guy was date number two, way back when. And the article did specify seven dates to find The One. I’m about to say something like ‘no hard feelings’ and head home when I feel his hands circle around the tops of my arms. I’m hoisted up and over the threshold and placed back on my feet in his hallway. He’s leaning down and our faces are so close that I can feel his warm breath against my cheek.
‘So you think you might like me?’ he says in that deep, rich voice I know so well.
Every single nerve ending in my body is yelling at me to just kiss him already. This boy who I like. This boy who I would never have even met if it weren’t for Mila’s stern words. This boy who might just be about to turn from a friend into something more.
I stare into his pale grey eyes, like a crystal clear river on a hot summer’s day.
‘I mean, I’m terribly busy and important these days,’ I grin. ‘But yes, I think I just might.’
Loved Just My Type?
Then it’s time to meet Izzy as she embarks on the journey of a lifetime!
‘Hannah’s writing makes me laugh and laugh and LAUGH. . . I am officially a fan girl’
Lucy Vine
Dear Readers,
I hold my hands up: I’m stuck in a rut. For three years and counting I’ve been hopelessly in love with the same guy - and the closest we’ve ever got is a drunken arse grab (NB: this doesn’t count). My favourite hobby is googling cats for spinsters and I’m sick of my shoestring salary that barely pays for my shoebox flat.
I need a head-to-toe life makeover. Enter my ‘Year of Saying Yes’, which is where you come in. To help me sort out my sorry life, I need you to #DareIzzy. For the next 12 months I’ll be saying ‘yes’ to your challenges, no matter how wild, adventurous or plain nuts they are. ‘No’ is not an option!
Here goes. . . Wish me luck! I’m going to need it.
Love,
Izzy x
Get ready for non-stop hilarity, unadulterated entertainment and the journey of a lifetime.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Contents
About the Author
Praise for Hannah Doyle
About the Book
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
C
hapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
