Eleanor shakes her head, her nostrils flaring further to Mersey Tunnel proportions. If she inhales hard enough, she’ll suck in the lot of us, plates of spaghetti and all. ‘But what about that nice girl I introduced you to recently?’
‘Which one?’ I mutter. Eleanor has set up more dates than Cilla Black, Paddy McGuinness and Cupid himself combined.
‘Marianne?’ Ryan asks.
‘Patricia?’ I look at Eleanor for signs of recognition but there is none, only a blank expression and the giant nostrils. Even she’s forgotten all the women she’s foisted onto her son. ‘Gina? Or Heather? Or what about Yvette?’
‘She said a nice girl. Yvette put a brick through Mum and Dad’s dining room window,’ Ryan points out. ‘And she left a bag of dog crap on the doorstep.’
‘I said she was nice, not perfect.’
‘That’s enough.’ Eleanor relaxes her nostrils to nearly normal size and closes her eyes. ‘I’ve heard quite enough, thank you very much.’ Eleanor opens her eyes, boring them into Ryan’s. ‘Don’t you see what she’s doing to you? You never usually speak to me in such a manner.’
‘I’m just tired of it, Mum.’ Ryan sighs, the weight of dealing with Eleanor over the years pushing down on him. ‘I thought you’d quit all your meddling when I started dating Delilah but if anything it’s got worse.’
‘I just don’t think you’re right for each other,’ Eleanor says. ‘You have nothing in common! You’re a teacher, Ryan. You worked so hard to get where you are but Delilah just doesn’t have that drive.’
I’m twirling strands of spaghetti onto my spoon with my fork, concentrating really hard, but my head snaps up when I hear this. Cheeky cow!
‘She’s just an office worker, happy to plod along without any form of career or thought for the future.’
‘She’s here, you know.’ I feel the need to remind Eleanor of my presence as she’s speaking as though she’s forgotten I’m sitting right here.
‘I know that, dear. And I don’t mean any offence. I’m sure you’re great fun to be with but I expect more for my son. We didn’t pay through the roof for his education, only for him to end up with someone like you.’
Someone like me?
I reach across the table and give Eleanor’s hand a pat. ‘I’m afraid the queen’s already taken.’
Eleanor throws her hands up in the air. They’re still holding her cutlery but thankfully they remain clutched in her fingers. ‘See! This is exactly what I’m talking about. Can’t you be serious? This is my son’s future we’re talking about and you’re making fun of me.’
‘I don’t want serious,’ Ryan says. ‘You keep trying to set me up with these boring, snooty women and I’m not interested. I never have been and never will be. Why can’t you accept that?’
‘Because you deserve better.’ Eleanor drops her gaze to her lunch and prods disdainfully at her spaghetti. Ryan starts to rummage in his own spaghetti with his fingers.
‘What are you doing?’ I hiss but all becomes clear when he pulls out a long strand of spaghetti, grinning as he places one end between his teeth and passing me the other. When Eleanor looks up after placing a tiny morsel into her mouth, Ryan and I are acting out the spaghetti scene from Lady and the Tramp. Ryan is snapping a selfie, which we’ll post on Facebook later as proof of our love.
‘Phil, I think it’s time we left.’ Eleanor places her cutlery down on her plate and gathers her things. Without a word, she marches across the garden and disappears into the kitchen.
‘That went well.’ Ryan grins as his father scuttles along after Eleanor. ‘Do you fancy a pint in The Farthing?’
‘Yes please.’ I don’t think I can stomach my spaghetti now after our cheese-fest display of affection.
Chapter 31
Birthday Celebrations
Text Message:
Ryan: I need help!
Delilah: I’ve been telling you that for years
Ryan: Funny but I need actual help. I’m out shopping for Mum’s birthday. What can I get her?
Delilah: Arsenic, cyanide, good old-fashioned rat poison?
Most adults I know dread the arrival of their birthday as it signals yet another year has passed and brings with it the prospect of more wrinkles or grey hairs or lack of bladder control. Once you hit twenty-one, that’s it. It’s all downhill with no other milestones to look forward to. The next is thirty and nobody actually wants to be thirty, do they?
But not Ryan. Ryan still relishes his birthdays as much as he did when he was an eight-year-old boy hoping to unwrap a Furby. He counts down the days, his excitement mounting with each day that passes until it seems he will burst. It’s sweet and worrying in equal measure.
‘Morning!’ Ryan bursts into my bedroom at a wholly unacceptable hour for a Saturday morning, bouncing over to my bed and leaping into the air before landing mere millimetres from my feet.
‘For Pete’s sake, Ryan.’ Scrabbling around on the bedside table, I find my phone and squint at it to read the time. ‘It isn’t even nine o’clock yet.’ Ryan may pop out of bed at an ungodly hour to jog along dog-poo lined streets before breakfast but I am a normal person who realises what weekends were designed for: lie-ins. Glorious, soothing lie-ins.
‘It’s three minutes to, you lazy cow.’ Ryan bounces up and down on the mattress. ‘Come on, get up. It’s my birthday!’ He bounces a bit more vigorously. ‘Get up, get up, get up.’
‘Fine.’ Bending my leg so that my knee is practically grazing my chin, I stretch it out again, making contact with Ryan and sending him toppling to the floor. ‘Whoopsies.’ Lazy cow indeed! Throwing back the covers, I force myself out of bed and look down at Ryan, who is sitting where I dumped him on the floor. ‘Happy birthday, mate.’
‘Thank you!’ Ryan leaps to his feet, his tumble forgotten as he throws his arms around me. ‘Now hurry up. I said we’d meet Lauren at ten.’
Pushing Ryan out of the door, I get myself ready in record time so that by the time we leave the house forty-five minutes later I’m showered, dressed and am wearing a mask of makeup to hide how tired I am. I don’t know how Ryan can be so perky – we stayed up until almost three o’clock this morning watching a marathon of That ‘70s Show on Netflix. The meagre six hours of sleep has rendered me mole-eyed and ready to drop back off to dreamland while Ryan is bouncing around like Tigger stuffed full of E numbers.
‘Come on.’ Ryan is flapping his hands at me, his car keys jingling as he waits by the open door on the driver’s side. ‘We’re going to be late.’
Ryan, Lauren and I have a tradition for celebrating our birthdays. We all meet up for breakfast of the birthday celebrant’s choice and then we decamp to The Farthing for a day of drinking, jukebox singing and general merriment. It’s a simple plan, but it’s one we all look forward to.
We pick Lauren up on the way to town. She’s looking gorgeous in a floaty turquois jumpsuit and white wedge-heeled sandals. I feel like a bit of a tramp in comparison, having thrown on a pair of skinny jeans, stripy t-shirt and ageing flip flops.
‘Look at you,’ I say as Lauren sashays towards the car from her flat. She does a twirl before she opens the passenger door at the back of the car.
‘Do I look ok?’
‘You look gorgeous. Far too good for a day in The Farthing.’
Lauren grins and climbs into the car. ‘That’s exactly the look I was going for.’
We drive into town for pancakes, scoffing enough of the wickedly tasty breakfast treats swimming in syrup that we’re rendered immovable.
‘I’m going to look like a Teletubby in this jumpsuit,’ Lauren groans, giving her full tummy a rub, which sets off a discussion about the names we would have if we actually were Teletubbies (we’re a sophisticated bunch, I know). Ryan would, according to Lauren, be Dinky-Winky (‘How would you know?’ Ryan asks her. ‘You’ve never seen my fun stick.’). I say I’d be Tipsy (because it’s one of my most favourite states to be in) and Lauren would be Lau-Lau.
‘Now all we need is a Po-replacement,’ Lauren says and I immediately think of Adam. He’d fit rather nicely into our little group and with his handsomeness could become our Beau. Thankfully I say none of this out loud as it is beyond cheese.
‘Maybe Tyler can join us,’ Ryan suggests, his lips already twitching as he awaits Lauren’s reaction. Tyler is the guy who lives in the basement flat below Lauren. When she first moved into the flat, she developed quite a crush on Tyler, sending me updates via text – ‘Just found out that the guy in the basement flat is called Tyler. Don’t you LOVE that name?’ and ‘OMG, Tyler just touched my hand. I’m pretty sure it was by accident but O.M. Freaking G!!!’ – for example. They flirted in the hallway for a while until Tyler finally asked her out. The date went fantastically, as did the second and the third. On their fourth date, they ended up back at Tyler’s basement flat and that’s where it all went wrong.
Lauren: Tyler is a freak. An actual FREAK
Delilah: Oh God, what did he ask you to do?
Lauren: He didn’t ask me to do anything. I only got as far as his sitting room and then I made my excuses and left
Delilah: What the cheese did he have in his sitting room???
Ponies. Tyler had ponies in his sitting room. Lots and lots of brightly-coloured ponies of varying sizes.
‘I’m not a Brony or anything,’ Tyler had said as Lauren took in his vast My Little Pony collection. He had stuffed animals lining shelves and sitting on the sofa, plus DVDs, figurines and framed posters on the walls.
‘He looked like a Brony to me,’ Lauren told me later. ‘I dread to think what his bedroom looks like. He probably has a My Little Pony bedspread.’
Lauren has never found out what Tyler’s bedroom looks like as she avoids him, as much as she can when they live in such close proximity.
‘Tyler would be a perfect member of our Teletubbies group,’ Ryan says now. His mirth is evident in his quivering lips and the way he’s leaning across the table towards Lauren. ‘We can call him Po-ny.’
Ryan thinks this is hilarious, slamming his hand down on the table while he chuckles to himself. It is a little bit funny but I keep my face straight in an act of female solidarity.
‘Shall we get going?’ Lauren asks as though Ryan hasn’t spoken at all and isn’t convulsing with merriment. ‘I’ve worked up quite a thirst with those pancakes.’
So we settle the bill and head back to Ryan’s car, dropping it off at his house before walking the short distance to The Farthing where the real fun can begin.
Chapter 32
A Very Weird or Incredibly Wonderful Birthday Surprise
Text Message:
Mum: Hello, love! Do you think you can have a go on the internet and order the Sean Connery James Bond box set for me? I want to get it for your dad’s birthday. It’ll be a nice surprise for him
Delilah: Does he even like James Bond?
Mum: Of course he does! Everybody likes James Bond. Especially the Sean Connery ones
The pub is pretty full for early on a Saturday, mostly with young men gathered around the pool table, curing their hangovers with more booze and competitiveness. My eye quickly falls on the bar and I’m relieved Dan isn’t here. It’s been weeks since the fall out from our date but I’m hoping to avoid him for a bit longer. Forever, if possible.
‘I’ll get this round in,’ I offer but soon wish I’d kept my mouth shut when Dan’s head appears, bit by bit, as he ascends from the cellar’s hatch behind the bar. His shoulders appear, then the top of his chest, where my view ends. I’d forgotten quite how short he is. ‘Why don’t you get the drinks and Ryan and I will find a table?’ I thrust a bank note at Lauren and attempt to scurry but Lauren, quick as a flash, grabs me by the elbow and steers me towards the bar.
‘This has gone on long enough, girly.’ She gives me a prod in the spine so I stumble even closer to the bar and a waiting Dan. He has his arms folded across his chest, an eyebrow cocked in challenge, daring me to approach. ‘Just get it over and done with. Ryan and I will find us a table.’ And off she goes, taking Ryan with her. So much for female solidarity!
I inch forward towards the bar, gulping painfully hard before plastering a neutral, we’ve-never-dated-before smile on my face. ‘Hello Dan. Can I get two pints and a glass of red wine please?’ I consider asking how Dan is, to be polite and everything, but I think it’s better for both of us if we get this over and done with as quickly as possible.
Dan grunts and turns to grab a couple of pint glasses from the rack. Neither of us speaks or attempts to make eye contact as he fills them with lager. I find the polished bar quite fascinating in the few minutes it takes Dan to fulfil my order. Wordlessly, I hand over the money, praying he won’t scribble on the change this time. I check as soon as I’ve located Lauren and Ryan but there are no obscenities decorating the queen’s face. Phew!
‘See? That didn’t kill you, did it?’ Lauren smiles sweetly at me, as though she hasn’t just tossed me into the lion’s den smelling of juicy steak and with an ‘eat me’ sign attached to my t-shirt.
‘I suppose not.’ Shoving the change into my purse, I sit down and take a fortifying sip of my drink. Ryan grabs his own pint and squeezes himself against me, holding out his phone to take a selfie. I read over his shoulder as he uploads it to Facebook with the caption ‘Birthday drink with the missus!’ Shuffling towards me once more, he kisses my cheek while taking another, which he adds to his Facebook album.
‘So how’s the living together working out?’ Lauren asks as Ryan slips his phone back into his pocket and shuffles away to give us both a bit more breathing space.
‘Splendidly. Delilah kicked me out of bed this morning.’ Ryan winks at Lauren while I squeak with indignation.
‘I kicked you off the bed.’ I turn to Lauren, feeling an overwhelming need to clarify the situation. ‘He came in to wake me up and was bouncing around on top of the covers like a kid on Christmas Day. I simply ejected him onto the floor. Nothing happened.’
Lauren holds her hands up. ‘Hey, I believe you.’
‘Why?’ Ryan asks her. ‘Don’t you think I can charm my way into Delilah’s affections?’
‘Not in a million years,’ I say before Lauren can open her mouth.
‘I’m offended.’ Ryan rises from his seat and flounces dramatically towards the men’s loos. ‘And on my birthday too,’ he calls over his shoulder.
I pick up my pint and take a sip. I’ll need to pace myself if we’re going to be here all day.
‘How long do you have to keep this act up again?’ Lauren asks once the door to the loos swings shut behind Ryan.
‘Only a few more weeks, thankfully.’ I hear Lauren give a little sigh. ‘Why? What’s wrong?’
Lauren takes a strand of her red hair and twiddles it around her finger, scrunching her eyes closed before she speaks. ‘It’s just hard for me, I guess.’
I put my pint down on the table and lean towards her. ‘Oh, gosh. You don’t feel like a third wheel, do you? Because it isn’t real. You know that.’
Lauren opens her eyes and blinks slowly at me. ‘It looks real.’
‘But it’s just an act. Ryan and I aren’t into each other. Not even a little bit.’ The thought is a little bit nauseating, in fact.
Lauren presses her lips together until they disappear into her mouth. She looks pained and I feel bad for making her feel this way. I thought she knew we were only playing along for Ben’s sake. Yes, it’s got ever so slightly out of hand with the whole moving in together and everything, but nothing has changed between the three of us.
‘I sort of am though.’ Lauren’s voice is so quiet I almost miss her words. I lean further towards her, my elbows now halfway across the table.
‘What was that?’
Lauren drops her head into her hands with a groan. When she looks up again it’s with a grimace. ‘I like him.’
‘Who?’
Lauren laughs. Out of sheer embarrassment, I should think. ‘Who do you thi
nk?’
‘Ryan?’ My eyes are painfully wide. Any wider and I’d have to scoop them up from the table and pop them back into their sockets.
‘Ssh!’ Lauren’s eyes dart towards the loos.
‘Sorry.’ I lower my voice to a whisper. ‘You fancy Ryan?’ The thought is inconceivable. I mean, Ryan is pretty cute I suppose and he’s certainly fit and healthy. But still. It’s Ryan.
‘Yes. Have done for ages but I’ve managed to keep it to myself. Until now.’
‘What about Courtney?’ We’d spent hours pretending to work out so she could ogle the bloke and now she’s telling me she had the hots for Ryan all along? What a waste!
‘I did like him but he was more of a distraction. Plus, he was always out of reach so it didn’t really mean anything.’
‘So we worked out for nothing?’
Lauren gives a tut. ‘How much working out did we actually do?’
Not much by normal people’s standards but still.
‘And think of all those smoothies.’
Lauren has a point. I still missed those smoothies. The ones I make at Ryan’s place just aren’t the same.
‘So what do I do? Do I tell him?’ Lauren clings onto my hands as her eyes dart from my face to the loos. ‘Do you think he fancies me?’
Part of me thinks this could be great once I get my head around my best friends snogging and stuff (stuff I don’t wish to go into or even think about). But another part, a really, really selfish part of me thinks this could be bad. Very bad for me and my wedding date plans.
‘Do you think you could keep it to yourself? Just for a bit longer? Until after the wedding? It’s just that I don’t want anything to jeopardise my plan.’ See, told you it was a selfish part.
‘Oh.’ Lauren releases my hands and slumps down in her seat. ‘Sure. If that’s what you want.’
Luckily Ryan reappears at that moment, shutting down the conversation.
The Wedding Date Page 21
