We have toast and the last of my mum’s St Leonard’s marmalade. It’s supposed to be St Clements’ as it’s orange and lemon but St Leonards-on-Sea, East Sussex, is one of her favourite places on the south coast. I never know why but she can spend hours walking around Hastings Castle, a former eleventh-century Norman fortress, which would take most people a fraction of the time because there’s so little left. I think she likes the romance of the Battle of Hastings, not that Harold losing an eye is romantic but it’s one of the few dates she can recall when asked. 1066 and all that.
Duncan and I have a long romantic snog, much to Buddy’s annoyance as he’s raring to go. Duncan takes him to work every weekday so the dog’s not to know today’s any different. It does mean I don’t have to rush back from meeting up with Izzy and it’s a nice day so I’m going to walk into town. That way, I don’t have to get back to the car or pay a silly price for leaving it more than the free two hours. Oh, it’s Saturday. It’s two pounds all day. I’ll still walk. I’ve not done a huge amount of that this week; the Hemel office to town centre and back isn’t exactly pushing things.
Having been distracted last night, I’ve just put my phone on charge, when the screen lights up with Izzy’s picture and name. I put the phone to my ear, tricky as the charge cable’s not very long but the battery’s almost dead so I have no choice. “Hi,” I say, half leaning on the kitchen work surface.
“Hi. You okay?”
“Oh yes, just charging.”
“Charging? Around or someone?”
“My phone.”
“Ah. You still up for meeting in a while?”
“Sure thing, crocodile.” It’s not come out how I meant it but she gets the idea.
“Starbucks at noon?”
“Ooh good plan, Batwoman.”
Izzy laughs. “We’ve got so much to catch up on.”
“We do.”
“I’ve got four Starbucks cards and I don’t know if there’s anything on them but if there is it’s my treat.”
To be fair, it is Izzy’s turn – I paid for Costa last Saturday, we alternate venues – but I know she’d pay regardless of whether there was any credit on the cards. She keeps forgetting them when we go so buys a new one and puts a tenner on each one then spends almost that with our drinks and snacks. We only ever have one round as we rarely have much spare time to stay very long. It’s the lure of the charity shops.
I look over to a bowl below the double three-pin and USB power socket. Duncan loves his technology. The bowl is where we dump our coins when we get too much and there’s plenty so I get my purse and tip most of the coins into it. I tuck the purse back into my bag and hang it above the radiator in the hall. That went off ages ago so no chance of my bag getting too hot, not that we need the heating on at all as it’s been so mild recently but when the sun goes in it gets a bit chilly so an hour or two last thing and first thing and we’re good to go.
Speaking of which, it’s gone ten so I need to get a move on. I have a lovely warm shower – my showers have to be warm regardless of the time of year; it’s good for the skin. Not too hot, not too cold. Just right. Like Goldilocks’s porridge. Ooh… I really fancy some now. Well, not right now as I’m not that hungry but I wonder if it’s something Starbucks does. Probably only in the winter and by the time I meet Izzy and we order, I’ll likely fancy something else anyway.
Standing in front of the wardrobe’s full-length mirror, I turn from side to side. I’m not skinny but am pretty happy with what I’ve been given, and work relatively hard for. I could have a better diet so pot kettle black given my job but when I have a splurge, I cut back to make up for it. It’s not easy being in a relationship because who wants to date someone who’s constantly on a diet. Life shouldn’t be like that anyway. Yes, don’t go mad but equally don’t calorie count everything that goes into your mouth.
I blush, thinking about last night. I’m glad I’m not drinking something as I can’t help laughing. Izzy would be so proud.
Chapter 50 – Ravishing And Ravenous
Izzy’s standing outside the Market Square Starbucks when I get there. It’s one on the dot and it’s not like her to be early.
“Hey, Izzy. Sorry, have you been waiting long?”
“Literally just got here.” So on time too. Yay.
“Hungry?”
“Ravishing.”
She always says that instead of ravenous but it makes me giggle every time. “We’ve so much to catch up on,” she says.
“We do.”
Instead of standing outside, starting what we know is going to be a long conversation, we go in. It’s been a couple of weeks, no three, four? – I didn’t see her the Saturday before last, but things can change so we look at the board. She usually goes for chai tea latté and something gooey, and I have a skinny Caffè Misto, more milk, steamed, than a regular coffee but all the better for it, and a cookie of some description. It’s the bits of chocolate I love. I often have hazelnut in my coffee but today I fancy it plain. Hopefully not losing my sweet tooth.
Sometimes I feel a fraud, doing what I do but eating and drinking rubbish. I have no dietary qualifications but I did do media at school and always knew I wanted to be a writer of some kind. I was also plump back then, more than the teachers’ lessons learned.
“So…” Izzy says as we take our goodies to a spare table near the back of the restaurant. We’re usually not bothered where we sit but we’ve got loads to catch up on so it’s easier if we’re away from everyone. That suits me fine.
Bold Donna. Bold Donna. Oh well, too late. Next time for sure.
I am being bolder with my colours and Izzy comments on it. “Have I seen that top before?”
I shake my head. “I got it a few years ago and it still fits.”
“I can see that, Miss Curves.” She wolf whistles and I look around to see if anyone heard. If they did, they’re being polite. No, this is the twenty-first century. No one pays attention anymore.
“So…” Izzy repeats. “Tell me what’s been happening down in Hemel.”
So I tell her everything, warts and all, James and all, and she wolf whistles again.
“But nothing happened.”
Izzy looks shocked as if the thought hadn’t crossed her mind. Knowing how much I love Duncan, she knows I’d never cheat on him. I can window shop, sure, we all can, but never cheat.
“And how are things going with William?” I ask. “Moved in yet?”
“Give me a chance. He’s only just asked.”
“A couple of weeks ago. Three. The evening before we were here last if I recall. Plenty of time.”
“I’ve moved a few bits over but there’s no hurry. It’s not like I’m giving up my place.”
“And the lodgers?”
“They’re fab. And they’re getting on really well together. Shame Tom’s married. I think Amanda thinks so too, although St Andrew’s is bound to have hot male nurses or doctors.”
“Or patients.”
Izzy gives me that look. “Anyway.”
“Yes, anyway. So we’re caught up, are we?” I suggest, itching to go and buy some bargains. I realised how dowdy my wardrobe, or the clothes I have at Duncan’s anyway, has become when looking for this. And I hadn’t had this for years. I popped into a charity shop on the outskirts of town, one I knew we wouldn’t be going in so wouldn’t be recognised, and found the top I’m wearing. I purposely wore something I wanted to get rid of so left that for them to sell. It was fresh on other than me walking into town and we all know I don’t walk quickly enough to get sweaty.
Other than teeny white lies – you know, ‘Oh yes, that absolutely suits you’, that kind of thing, I don’t think I’ve ever lied to Izzy before and I feel bad, but not that bad. Oh, Donna, you tyke! I can’t help smiling at feeling a little more confident. Too much coffee? No, less than normal. Something in the Hemel Hempstead air, possibly. Whatever it is, I feel good. Life is good.
We get some fabulous things, mostly cloth
es, from the charity shops along Gold Street (British Red Cross and Salvation Army), St Giles Street (Age Concern and Save the Children), even before we’ve gone back to the Market Square (RSPCA and two Cancer Researches).
Izzy and I say our farewells outside the Cancer Research at the top of The Drapery. I really fancy a McDonalds strawberry milkshake, just a small one, but it’s the bottom of The Drapery and I’m losing the will to live. I think I’m going to be naughty anyway and get a bus as the plastic bags are digging into my palms. I usually bring cotton ones, big ones, but in my hurry to leave Duncan’s I forgot to get them from the boot of my car. I always keep them in the lower half of the split boot just in case but now when I need them… brain like a sieve, that’s me.
She’s disappeared, cutting down the top of College Street, when it dawns on me that Duncan suggested going out as a foursome this evening. I don’t know why I didn’t remember. Izzy and I talked about everything else. Subconsciously I think I want Duncan all to myself. Maybe I thought he’d be tired. Or I’d be tired. Maybe… I don’t know. I’m losing it. I have had a lot on my mind recently.
I can’t ring her, she’ll have her hands full so it’ll go through to answerphone. Maybe that’ll be better. It’ll give her time to ask William. Where did she say he was right now? Work? No. Golf? Does he even play golf? I can’t remember. I shake my head in an attempt to latch the right information to the right memory cells but all it does is give me a headache. Oh great. Now I’ll definitely have to get a bus. I decide to do that so I’m not worn out by the time I get home then ring Izzy when I get there.
I still feel frazzled when I arrive at Duncan’s. He’s not here yet which means no Buddy either so a quiet haven until their return. Knowing they won’t be long, I sit on the sofa and get Alexa to play some ‘nice classical music’; Classical for a Relaxing Bath, she tells me. What I would give for one of those.
It’s only when I feel a tongue licking me that I realise they’re home. I’d like it to have been Duncan’s tongue of course but sadly Buddy was quicker to greet me. I’ve fallen asleep on the sofa and my neck aches. I sit up and it clicks. Ow.
Duncan looks at the bags then at me and smiles. “Exhausting shopping trip?”
I laugh. “Someone kept me up late last night.”
We laugh at the memory. Yep, no relationship issues for sure. Then I think of James. Get out!
“Huh?” Duncan’s in the doorway, having turned to go into the kitchen, probably to make a drink.
Did I say that aloud? “About going out. I forgot to ask Izzy and William to join us.”
“Let me guess: you forgot when you met then planned to when you got home but fell asleep.” He knows me so well.
“I’ll ring her now.” Not that I know what time it is. It’s still daylight but early May and it doesn’t get dark until nine. I look at my watch. Just gone five. That’s okay. It’s early enough for her not to have made any plans. If she has, I’m sure she won’t mind us gatecrashing unless it’s a loved-up meal for two at home or something equally mushy but William doesn’t really do mush… not that I know anyway.
“Something to drink?” Duncan asks, pointing towards the kitchen.
“Please. Anything, I don’t mind.”
He nods and disappears.
I phone Izzy and she answers so quickly it’s like she’s been expecting my call.
“Hey, Donna.”
“Hi. Erm…”
“You okay?”
“Sorry, yes, just woken but… I… no, it’s okay. I’m okay, yes, thanks.” I’m not making any sense.
“Okay…”
“Are you and William busy tonight? It’s short notice, I know, and feel free to say no, but Duncan and I were wondering if you’d like to join us.”
“There? At his?”
“Not thought that far yet.”
Izzy laughs. “I’m sure we would. William’s out at the moment but I can check when he returns.”
I don’t pry so just say, “Fabulous. Whatever you fancy doing will be fine by us. Maybe a movie and food, or more likely food then a movie otherwise it would be really late by the time we eat. Or maybe we’ll just go out for a meal, or we could cook here, we’ve always got something in.” I’m hoping… and freewheeling.
“I don’t mind. I’ll text William actually rather than wait until he gets back. I’m not totally sure where he is but he knows we’ll be doing something so…”
“Fab,” I repeat.
Although Izzy and I spent the whole afternoon together, it still felt like we hadn’t properly caught up. We had a brief overview of our week apart but there’s always more detail to come out when you really think about it. What we can say in front of our respective halves will be different to what we’d say if it were just the two of us… because we always talk about them, but there’ll be plenty to share.
Duncan comes through with a couple of halves of cider, I’m guessing; they’re in Rekorderlig glasses. Buddy follows behind with what looks like a frozen filled cow hoof in his mouth, his favourite. Duncan plonks the glasses onto the coffee table in front of me. I take one and he holds the other out in front of me as if to toast. That’s exactly what we do.
“To…” I can’t think of to what. To us? To dinner as a foursome? To health, wealth and happiness.
“To being in love.”
My mouth instinctively drops open. Duncan is a romantic but I hadn’t expected that. I know he means it though.
He puts his glass down, takes mine, adds it to his then leans forward, closes my mouth and kisses it. He turns my wrist and the digital display on my watch comes on. “Yep, plenty of time.”
“Time?”
He looks up to the ceiling. “A repeat of last night.”
I blush. “And this morning.”
He smiles, kisses me again, and leads me upstairs.
Chapter 51 – Dinner At The Very Least
Izzy’s left a message when we resurface. I’m semi dressed when I return to the lounge and am grateful that we have the blinds shut so Buddy doesn’t go nuts at anything walking past. While Duncan had given him the cow hoof, the dog’s distributed bits all around the floor, like he’d been chasing it rather than doing the sensible thing and sitting or lying in one place and digging out the filling. He’s done that all right but hasn’t gone after it, licking or eating it all up.
“I thought you were supposed to be a canine hoover,” I say to him and instead of looking sorry, he grins and wags his tail. “At least you won’t get any fatter.” Although he won’t have understood a word, he doesn’t look impressed. About as much as I am with what he’s done.
Duncan’s still upstairs so hasn’t seen the mild carnage yet. We both know that dogs aren’t the tidiest of creatures but Buddy’s excelled himself this time and Duncan likes a neat house, Buddy allowing.
“Clean all this up,” I instruct the dog, waggling my finger around to indicate what I mean. Buddy tilts his head from one side to another. “Hoover,” I say as if that’s going to help. I point from him to the mess and back to him again but it only garners another head tilting. “I give up.” Buddy goes to his bed, most of which has the filling spread around it, and curls up. “Great. Thanks for your help.” He wags his tail and closes his eyes.
From the bottom of the stairs, I call up, “Izzy’s texted!”
I get a distant, “Oh good.”
“She and William had no plans and said yes to dinner. Said the cinema would be too much of a rush but food for sure.”
I get a distant, “Great.”
“Sixfields – so there’s plenty of choice?”
I get a slightly less distant, “Sure,” which means he’s on his way out of the bedroom, except he takes a few seconds to appear. He’s brushing his teeth.
“Oh sorry.”
He stops and swallows. “No, it’s okay. Nearly done.”
I don’t like to tell him that you shouldn’t swallow toothpaste but I can’t think of anyone who died from it so I think he
’ll live, until dinner at the very least.
We meet Izzy and William outside Frankie & Benny’s and like earlier, we arrive at almost the same time, them a few seconds before us. More William’s influence I think than Izzy’s.
“Nice dress, Donna,” William says and I look down at myself. It’s one I bought earlier from the charity shop. It’s a Kaffe burnt orange floral wrap, RRP £79.99 but the previous owner had bought it from TK Maxx at a mere £24.99. A fiver to me. An absolute bargain, a ‘steal’ as Jason Flemyng so eloquently put it in Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, one of my top… twenty at least films.
We’re quickly shown to our table. William, it turns out, had booked ahead of us turning up and it was just as well as the place is really busy, to be expected on a bright, quite warm, Saturday night. Izzy and I sit next to each other, facing into the restaurant so we can people watch. Clothes watch. Anything watch. Izzy’s writing a novel, or planning it at least, but won’t tell me what about until it’s finished and she promises to send it to me. We’ve had this seating arrangement for a while so she can see if anything, or rather anyone, grabs her as ‘fiction fodder’.
Anja, our waitress, takes our drinks order and brings them to us a few minutes later, putting them in exactly the right places. The guys are on beer, Izzy and I on soft drinks as we’re driving back, the guys having driven us here. We alternate; the other times we drive in, the guys drive back. It’s only fair.
Anja pulls out a notepad and writes down our order: a house special burger for Duncan, a Nashville hot chicken for William, a BBQ cheese chicken wrap for Izzy, New York BBQ chicken grill for me – I really can’t get enough of chicken, and sides of calamari and dough balls to share. As her name would suggest, Anja is not a native Englander. My first thought as she took our drinks order was eastern Europe but as she reads back our food, she sounds more Scandinavian.
The Serial Dieter Page 22
