The Wedding Date

‘Oh, Lauren.’ I sigh, long and heavy. ‘They were awful.’ The band consisted of drummer Dan, two keyboardists, Gary and Doodle (who shared the same keyboard and played it between them, sometimes seemingly at random), acoustic guitarist Mickey (whose guitar had a missing string), lead singer Leona and tambourinist, Tris. Munch didn’t seem to have a role other than leaping around and being a bell-end.

‘It was like at primary school, when the teacher hands out instruments and there’s just noise. I half expected them to burst into “The Wheels on the Bus”.’

Lauren presses her lips together and I know she’s desperately holding in a giggle. I’m mad at her for half a second, annoyed that she finds my misery entertaining. But then I picture Munch performing a flying kick, making contact with the edge of a nearby table and falling flat on his back before being showered with some poor bugger’s pint and I find myself sniggering. I catch Lauren’s eye and that’s it, we’re pissing ourselves laughing on the treadmill, clutching the rail with one hand and our stomachs with the other.

‘So you won’t be going on a second date with Dan then?’

‘Absolutely not.’ The laughter drains away now. ‘What am I going to do? How am I going to face him at the pub?’ Some may say that finding a new local is a bit drastic, but I’m not convinced I’m one of those people.

‘How did the date end? Did Dan think it was a success?’

I close my eyes but it makes me feel dizzy on the treadmill so I open them again. ‘He thought it went great. He wants to see me again.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I didn’t say anything. I pretended I had a phone call, said there was an emergency with my gran and ran.’

‘He probably knows you don’t want to see him again then.’ Lauren’s voice is matter-of-fact, absolutely sure with no wriggle room at all. ‘That’s the oldest trick in the book. You’re in the clear. The only thing you need to do now is find a replacement.’ Lauren suddenly yelps and batters the buttons on her treadmill, which quickly picks up speed. By the time fitness instructor Courtney wanders by, Lauren’s legs are pelting away, her ginger ponytail rhythmically swinging in time with her pumping arms. She stares straight ahead, her breathing controlled.

‘All clear,’ I say once Courtney is out of view. Lauren hits the emergency stop button and slumps against the machine, wheezing and panting and praying for death.

‘I need to sit down,’ Lauren rasps, so we step off the treadmill and make our way to the rowing machines. We move in rhythm, but there’s no effort involved at all.

‘So you need to find a new man to date.’ It’s ten minutes later and Lauren can finally converse without wheezing. ‘Anybody here who takes your fancy?’

Of course there is. I wouldn’t endure this torture twice weekly if it wasn’t for the room full of buff blokes.

‘He’s pretty cute.’ I casually glance at the guy warming up by the weights. He’s tall and toned without being overly muscly.

‘Good choice.’ We watch as he stretches towards a high metal bar and leaps up to grasp it. Lauren shakes her head as he starts a series of chin-ups.

‘Nope,’ I agree as he grunts and gurns away, his face stretching into the most unattractive poses.

‘That’ll be his sex face,’ Lauren whispers and we both start to giggle. ‘Try again. What about him?’ I turn to where Lauren is gawping and spot a giant of a man. He’s as wide as he is tall, with bulging biceps and calves the size of oak trees. ‘Think how intimidated Ben would be if you turned up with that big boy.’

‘I’m intimidated by that big boy.’ I can’t do it. I’d be too terrified to speak to the bloke. If he looks across and sees us gawping, I’ll pee myself.

‘What about Mr Treadmill?’

We both look back towards the treadmills, where one of the regular gym members is pounding away, clocking up the miles as sweat pours from his face. He has a towel around his neck, which he uses frequently to wipe the sweat away from his eyes. We see him here all the time but he never uses any other equipment. Just the treadmill, over and over again. He was on the treadmill when we arrived and he’ll still be there when we leave.

‘I want a date that takes place outside of the gym,’ I say. ‘And one that doesn’t involve running and buckets of sweat.’

Lauren tuts. ‘You’re so fussy.’

‘Would you date him?’

‘Nah.’ Lauren stops her pitiful attempt at rowing. ‘But then I’m not desperate.’ She grins as I swat her. ‘I’ve had enough. Shall we go and get a smoothie?’

‘Yes!’ I leap up from the rowing machine, using up more energy than I have in the hour that we’ve been here.

I’m hoping the perfect guy will present himself in the juice bar, all clean and sweat-free and easy to talk to. But there’s only me and Lauren in there so I make do with an orange and pineapple smoothie. I guess the gym isn’t the ideal place for me to meet men anyway. They’ll expect me to be fit and willing to exercise. What if he wanted to go jogging on Sunday mornings? Ugh. It’s exhausting enough pretending to exercise with Lauren twice a week – I really don’t want to actually exert myself.

‘So if not the gym, where?’ Lauren asks.

I shrug and take a long suck of my smoothie. ‘I was hoping you’d be able to give me some pointers. You’ve been single for longer than I have.’

‘Thanks for the reminder.’ Lauren sticks her tongue out at me. ‘What about work? You seem to like that Adam guy.’

‘Adam’s great. He’s funny, kind and gorgeous, but he’s just a mate. Plus, I work with him and that can get messy, especially when I end it after the wedding.’

‘So you’re really still just going to use the guy as a front? No actual romance?’

I shake my head. ‘No romance. I don’t want a future with the guy, just a wedding date.’

Lauren takes a sip of her smoothie. She’s opted for a classic strawberry and banana. ‘Don’t you miss it though?’

‘Miss what?’ I miss Ben, but that’s pretty obvious.

‘Having a boyfriend? Having fun, dating. Sex.’ Lauren sighs. ‘I haven’t had sex in so long.’

It’s been eight months since I’ve had sex. A month after we split up, Ben broke the no contact rule and we’d hooked up. I’d foolishly thought we were getting back together but it turned out it was just a ‘for old time’s sake’ fumble and I’d been too embarrassed – not to mention crushed – to tell anybody about it. But still, it showed that Ben was still attracted to me so a tiny remnant of hope clung on.

‘Why don’t you do anything about it?’ I ask, ensuring the spotlight remains on Lauren’s sex life and not mine. ‘You hardly ever go on dates any more.’

Lauren takes a long slurp of her smoothie until she ends up noisily hoovering up the dregs in the bottom of the glass. ‘I guess I’m just not interested in dating random guys,’ she says once her smoothie has been depleted.

‘You’re interested in Courtney,’ I tease. ‘Why don’t you talk to him?’ Despite having a massive crush on Courtney, Lauren has never actually had a conversation with the man.

‘I’m happy to ogle from afar.’ Lauren hops off her stool and grabs her gym bag. ‘Come on, let’s go and meet Ryan at the pub and we can think of more ideas for Project Wedding Date.’

Chapter 8 (#ulink_af6f5c97-b190-58c1-b9c8-8fb8ccae0f82)

Kitchen Skills (or lack of)

Text Message:

Dad: Takeaway tonight – Indian, Chinese or pizza?

Delilah: I thought Mum left you instructions for making lasagne?

Dad: She did. And when she gets back from Aunty Liz’s we’ll tell her it was delicious but not nearly as good as hers

Delilah: Fair enough. Chinese then please

I haven’t spent much time in the development kitchen at Brinkley’s. I glimpsed inside it during my tour of the buildings on my first day but other than that it has never been a place I’ve been required – or permitted – to go to. The kitchen is stark with grey flooring and chrome appliances and worktops. The lack of natural light means the room is lit with headache-inducing strip lighting. The room is so uninspiring it’s hard to believe such delicious products are created here.

‘I’ve set aside a workspace for you over here.’ Karen, who works in development, points out the space at the far end of the kitchen. Neville arrived back from the brand-building conference full of ideas (and beer, judging by the lingering hangover) and, inspired by what he had learned, Neville has loosened the Brinkley purse strings and injected some much-needed cash into the firm’s social media efforts. One of Adam’s ideas was to set up a blog (yes, Brinkley’s really is in the dark ages when it comes to social media. Before Adam arrived in the office to rescue us from technological suicide, Brinkley’s didn’t even have a Twitter account) and Karen has agreed to give us a hand for the afternoon. We’re going to develop some recipes using Brinkley’s biscuits and post them onto the blog. Katey-Louise had originally wanted to play the role of glamorous assistant to Adam but she took one look at what she would have to wear to comply with health and safety rules and dropped out. So now I’m playing the not-so-glamorous assistant in my overalls and hairnet.