A Season of Hopes and Dreams

by Lynsey James

  ‘As a Carb Counters target member and an Angel Member, I have to say the most important thing is listening to what Marjorie says. Your group leader is there to help you reach for the stars and achieve your weight-loss goals, so she’s your most valuable tool for getting where you want to be.’

  Yeah, she’s a tool all right, I want to say, especially when she lets you know how disappointed she is that you gained a pound.

  Her words come back to punch me right in the guts and I feel myself shrinking back into my seat as Samantha goes on and on about “doing things the Carb Counters way”. I hate the thought that I’ve disappointed anyone, even Marjorie, who isn’t exactly on my list of favourite people. An odd, nauseous feeling spreads through me, and all the excitement I felt about the speed-dating event fades. I turn my attention back to Samantha, who’s still in full flow about being the perfect club member.

  ‘If you follow Marjorie’s excellent advice,’ she simpers, ‘you could be standing here with a Target Pin and an Angel Pin. You get the Target Pin when you reach your target weight, and your Angel Pin when you’ve maintained it for three months. And don’t forget, membership is free for Target and Angel members! Not to mention the amazing meetings with the group leaders you get to go to when you’re an Angel Member! I’m really looking forward to taking the Inspire course and becoming a leader myself.’

  Marjorie starts applauding, but nobody else joins in. I’m guessing they’ve all been bored to death. She meets Samantha in the middle of the circle and pulls her in for a very awkward hug.

  ‘Well, I think we can all agree that was a really inspiring pep talk! Thank you very much, Samantha, and I’ll see you at the next Angel Members meeting.’ They exchange knowing looks before Samantha goes to sit back down. ‘You can all learn something from this girl. She’s an example for all of us.’

  I roll my eyes as the sense of failure hanging over me becomes heavier by the second. The way I’m going, I won’t ever be a Target or an Angel member, and it’s all my fault. Although I’ve only gained a pound and will probably lose it again next week, I feel like I’ve taken a huge step backwards.

  *

  That evening’s workout is a circuit made up of two dumbbells that aren’t the same weight, a clapped-out ab toner, and a rickety old deckchair for doing tricep dips. As there are only three stops on the circuit, the rest of us have to awkwardly jog on the spot while we wait our turn. It’s not a great workout experience, and I’d even go so far as to say I prefer going to the gym. Not because Scott’s there, of course.

  Zara helps make it fun, though, mostly by cracking jokes about Marjorie’s lurid pink velour tracksuit.

  ‘Who on earth told her that was a good look?’ she whispers to me as we halfheartedly jog on the spot while we wait for the rickety deckchair to become available. ‘She seems to like her velour tracksuits, doesn’t she? I’m convinced she’s actually from 1987 and just hops in her time machine to come and torture us every week.’

  I can’t hide my giggles, which earns me a stern glare from Marjorie. As usual, she’s throwing herself headfirst into the workout by jogging on the stage like a woman possessed.

  ‘I think you might be right! It’d explain where all those tracksuits come from.’ The feeling of utter failure is still crawling around inside me, but putting a brave face on it seems to be working. Plus, joking about Marjorie’s awful tracksuits takes the edge off the pain, although I feel a bit guilty too.

  ‘Up to anything exciting tonight?’ Zara asks.

  I grimace. ‘My best friend’s dragging me to a speed-dating night at the pub. I was looking forward to it, but I’m not so sure now.’

  ‘It’s a DVD night for Craig and me; got to keep putting those pennies in the IVF fund! I meant to say, thanks for congratulating me about lowering my BMI last week. It’s not an easy thing to talk about, but sometimes it feels good talking about it to a group of strangers. They’re kind of removed from the situation, you know?’

  I nod. ‘I know exactly what you mean. They don’t properly know you, so they can’t judge, right?’

  ‘I’d like to see you telling your story in the group,’ Zara says. ‘It’s not always easy opening up, but it’s a good feeling. I reckon you’ll rock that speed-dating event, you know. I bet you leave with more numbers than your mate does!’

  I chuckle and shake my head. ‘If by some miracle that actually does happen, you can help me go through them! How does that sound?’

  ‘You’re on,’ she replies with a wink.

  *

  After the group disbands for another week, I get myself ready and head over to the Bell and Candle. My outfit of choice for the speed-dating event is a wine-coloured wraparound maxi dress and a pair of nice high heels that aren’t too difficult to walk in. I’ve styled my hair into an artfully messy bun and kept my make-up simple but stylish. Overall, a pretty good effort if I do say so myself. There’s a last-minute panic before I leave the house: my chest constricts and, for a scary few moments, I feel like I can’t breathe. The enormity of what I’m about to do hits me and I wonder whether to ring Emma and cancel. However, my panic begins to subside and the fog in my brain lifts. Tonight will be fun and I’ll be closer to ticking let myself fall in love off my bucket list.

  Emma is at the bar, chatting to the cute barman who wangled us a booth the last time we were here. I stand back for a second and watch her flutter her eyelashes in his direction. He’s putty in her hands and she knows it.

  She turns round and spots me, her face breaking into a huge smile. ‘Yay, you made it! This is going to be so much fun.’ The barman catches her eye again. ‘God, where are my manners? Cleo, this is Ben; Ben, this is my best friend, Cleo.’

  We exchange smiles and shake hands, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Emma. Can’t say I blame him; she looks sensational in her pretty patterned strapless dress.

  ‘Ben just started working here,’ she says, a dreamy expression on her face. ‘He’s training to be a chef.’

  If they’d been cartoons, there’d be love hearts and bluebirds circling their heads right now. I turn my head away and let out a little giggle. In a way, I’m glad they’re acting so comically; it’s distracting me from how nervous I feel about the speed-dating.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt the love story, but I don’t suppose I could order a drink?’ I ask with a grin.

  Ben clears his throat and gives himself a shake. ‘Of course… sorry… what can I get you?’

  ‘A gin and slimline tonic please. What do you fancy, Emma?’

  Apart from Ben, of course.

  My best friend manages to pull herself out of Cloud Cuckoo Land long enough to tell me she’d like a vodka and Coke. Ben turns away to sort our drinks and Emma lets out a blissful sigh.

  ‘You’re my best friend and I love you, but please don’t let me do this speed-dating thing by myself!’ I beg, looping my arm through hers. ‘Much as I hate to get in the way of true love, I don’t think I could get through this alone.’

  Emma giggles and unhooks her arm to sling it round my shoulder. ‘What kind of friend would I be if I let you wade into that shark tank on your own? True love can wait a bit longer.’

  Her gaze falls on Ben again; I’m surprised her eyes don’t pop out of her head and turn into two giant love hearts. A group of people suddenly mill through the pub’s front door and head to the back room for the speed-dating.

  ‘Wow,’ I choke out, ‘that’s a lot of people! A-are we even going to fit in the room? Maybe we should just stay here and have a couple of drinks instead.’

  Emma slides off the bar-stool and nearly topples over. She links her arm through mine and pulls me close, giving my arm an affectionate squeeze.

  ‘I’m not letting you Cleo your way out of this one, I’m afraid,’ she says with a smile. ‘I know this isn’t something you’d usually do, but that’s exactly why you should do it! You don’t have to take it seriously if you don’t want to, just have a laugh and see what happens. I know you want to
start working on that bucket list of yours, but you don’t have to fall hopelessly in love tonight! And if any of them get weird, I could come over and act hysterical to give you an excuse to leave. How does that sound?’

  She’s got me there, and by the look on her face she knows it too. I sigh and nod my head in agreement, resigning myself to the fact I’m about to be shoved out of my comfort zone.

  ‘Are you ready?’ Emma asks.

  ‘Nope, but I’m going to do it anyway,’ I reply with a grin.

  We turn round to head through to the back room when the door swings open. My heart skips several beats when I come face to face with none other than Scott.

  Suddenly, this speed-dating event has become very interesting.

  Chapter Ten

  I stand there for a few seconds, rooted to the spot with no idea what to do next. Scott smiles and waves at me, but my limbs have apparently decided to go on strike.

  Do something, Cleo, anything! Wave your arms, announce you’re joining a religious sect, just DO SOMETHING!

  I’m getting a strange look from Emma now, probably because I look like a demented sock puppet. Scott’s throwing me a confused look as he edges towards the back of the pub.

  ‘What’s up with you?’ Emma asks, frowning. ‘It was like you just turned to stone when that bloke from the gym came in. Are you OK?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ I say, making a mental note to pull myself together before we head inside. ‘I-I just wasn’t expecting to see him here, that’s all. Come on, let’s go before all the good seats are taken.’

  I haul her towards the back room before I can talk myself out of it. Knowing Scott’s here has made me feel a lot more self-conscious. A bunch of guys from nearby villages I could handle; the cute gym trainer I seem to keep making a fool of myself in front of is a whole different story.

  Still, at least there’s no gym equipment to trap myself in this time.

  *

  A lot of people have turned out for this speed-dating event. I didn’t know there were so many people looking for love in Silverdale. Hell, I didn’t know so many people lived in Silverdale. I’m guessing some of them have probably come from nearby villages. Any lingering hopes of backing out because the room’s too full are dashed when Emma spots a couple of empty tables for us. She bounds across to them, dragging me behind her, and pounces on them before anyone else can.

  ‘Isn’t this exciting?’ she says, squeezing my arm. ‘I can’t believe so many people turned up!’

  ‘Aren’t you forgetting your one true love back at the bar?’ I remind her with an uneasy grin. ‘I don’t think he’d be too happy to see you waltzing off with another bloke at the end of the night.’

  Emma sticks her tongue out at me. ‘It’s called keeping your options open. Anyway, enough about him: what about Mr Hunky from the gym? Did you tell him you were coming?’

  I shake my head, trying not to look over to where Scott’s standing. ‘Nope, I’ve not been to the gym this week.’ I look at the smile on her face and my heart sinks a little. ‘Let me guess: you want me to introduce you or distract his mate while you work your magic?’

  Emma scoffs and shakes her head. ‘No way! Apart from the fact he’s not my type, it’s you he’s always looking at. It was the same when we saw him here last week; you should’ve seen the look on his face when he saw you were here.’

  ‘What, total fear or “oh fuck it’s the rowing-machine girl”?’ I joke.

  Just then, a bell clangs and a silence falls over the room. Andy, the landlord of the Bell and Candle, steps forward with a clipboard in his hands. He’s not the most obvious choice of person to run a speed-dating event, which is given away by how awkward he looks. I’m guessing his wife, Cath, talked him into this.

  ‘OK, everyone, welcome to the Bell and Candle’s first speed-dating night. The rules are pretty simple: girls, you stay seated; guys, you move round the tables. You get three minutes to talk to each person, so use them wisely. When the bell rings, time’s up. At the end of each round, you fill in the little comment cards in front of you; if there’s anybody you’d like to see again, write your name and number down and it’ll get passed on at the end of the session. Any questions?’

  Thankfully, nobody has any. Andy looks like he’d rather be watching the football with a bottle of beer in his hand. He makes an awkward gesture, declares the speed-dating event open, and shuffles off before anyone can say anything.

  This is it. I’m officially out of my comfort zone.

  *

  Over the next few minutes, I’m exposed to a selection of the worst men Silverdale and the surrounding villages have to offer. I’m not exactly rich in experience when it comes to romance, but even I know the men sitting in front of me are chumps.

  First, there’s Marty. He seems nice at first, until I make the mistake of asking what he does for a living.

  ‘I’m a forklift driver in a paint factory,’ he snaps. He’s sitting with his arms folded and his brows are lowered into an almost murderous glare. ‘Sucks the bloody life out of me as well. I wanted to be a footballer but oh no, my mum told me to get a proper job behind me. What does that old cow know anyway? She’s never worked a day in her life! A ten-litre tub fell on my foot, so it was bye-bye football career and hello soul-destroying job and no future. I still can’t look at white matte emulsion.’

  I almost want to ask what colour his ceilings are if he won’t use white, but decide against it. He’s in a bad enough mood as it is without me making it worse. Needless to say, I won’t be passing my contact details on to Marty.

  Next up is Simon, who doesn’t have any paint-related trauma stories. In fact, he almost seems relatively normal. We have the same taste in music, both enjoy cooking, and like dogs. I’m even thinking I might like to see him again.

  ‘I learned most of my Indian cooking when I toured round the country a few years ago,’ he says with a winning smile. ‘There’s nothing quite like tasting genuine Indian food. Have you ever been?’

  I shake my head. ‘No, but I’ve always wanted to go. It sounds like a beautiful country; you must’ve loved it there.’

  A dreamy expression crosses Simon’s face. ‘It was amazing. My wife says she’d like to go back someday—’

  ‘Hold on,’ I cut across him. ‘Your wife? You’re married?’

  Simon’s face pales as he realises he’s dropped himself in it. ‘Um… well, when I say my wife, I mean… We’re separated, have been for ages…’

  His phone ringing interrupts his babbling. He pulls it out and I catch the words Lizzie aka Cuddle Bunny on the screen. He realises I’ve seen and at least has the decency to look sheepish.

  ‘Bye, Simon,’ I say with a smile.

  *

  It doesn’t get any better as time wears on. By the time the halfway point of the evening comes, I’m close to giving up. I’ve had two emotional wrecks who clearly aren’t over their girlfriends, three arrogant pricks and a man I’m pretty sure taught PE at my high school.

  ‘I think it’s pretty safe to say I won’t be ticking off number ten on my bucket list tonight,’ I say to Emma. ‘Maybe I should move on to something a bit easier like booking a sky-dive or getting a tattoo. How are you getting on?’

  She grimaces. ‘It’s not great, is it? Maybe we’d have been better just having a couple of drinks in the pub after all.’ She pauses for a second as she looks at the next guy due to sit down with her. ‘Although I think you’ll like who’s coming your way next.’

  I follow her gaze and see Scott clambering out of his seat and moving in our direction. Emma gets up and quickly manhandles me into her seat.

  ‘Hey, what the hell are you—?’

  ‘You’ll thank me at your wedding,’ she hisses in my ear. ‘Now, get your flirt on!’

  I’m about to say something, but she’s already deep in conversation with the guy who just left her a few seconds before. He looks quite confused as to why he’s speaking to her again, but, knowing Emma, she’ll get him
to go along with it.

  I turn my attention to Scott, who’s just making himself comfortable opposite me. He’s wearing a navy jumper, some stylish jeans and a long, camel-coloured coat.

  ‘We have to stop meeting like this,’ he says with a cheeky grin. ‘People will start to talk.’

  I drop my head to hide the fact my cheeks have started to burn, and smile. ‘I’m quite surprised to see you here. Didn’t think this would be your type of thing.’

  I risk a glance up at him, and see him smiling at me. My heart does a happy little dance.

  ‘Anything that has free food is my type of thing,’ he replies. ‘Nah, my mate dragged me along to it because he thought it might be fun. He says it’s time for me to get back out there, and I thought “why not?” It’s been OK so far.’

  Now I’m intrigued. A million questions pop into my head and I can’t decide what to ask first. I’m really conscious of the fact I’ve only got three minutes with him and I don’t want to waste them.

  ‘I’m the same,’ I reply, not sure how much of my own circumstances to give away. ‘My friend Emma thought it’d be a laugh, so I came along with her. I don’t think I’ve met the love of my life yet, though! So, you’re getting back in the dating game?’

  I leave what happened to take you out of it hanging in the air because I don’t want to come across as nosy. I just hope I haven’t been so subtle that Scott misses what I’m trying to ask.

  ‘Yeah, I’ve been out of it for a while and my mate Chris thought it was time I started again.’ His shoulders tense and I notice his smile shrink a little. ‘I won’t bore you with the details of what happened to my last relationship; let’s just say I know how it feels to have my heart kicked around by someone I loved.’

  That strikes a chord of familiarity in me. For the briefest moment, I’m transported back to the moment where Adam Hartwell humiliated me in front of the whole of our year group. The pain slices through me like a knife, and I can almost hear the laughter echoing around me…