I look at them with my jaw swung open, equally as surprised.
A motion to my left catches my eye – it’s Natalia and Carly skipping past in matching pink chiffon floor-length gowns, looking like they belong in a mythical Shakespeare play with flowery garlands pinned into their hair. Following them, Josh and Alastair, each carrying hula-hoops and lit scented candles, grin as they cheer and holler through the crowd.
I can’t hear exactly what they’re saying but it sounds like a speech with jokes being set up and laughed at by the gathered crowd.
It’s Dan and Lexie’s wedding day, I realize with alarm.
And I’ve got my fanny out.
The people who aren’t enthralled with what the boys are saying are actually just staring at me sat on the bog with my knickers around my ankles.
I shimmy around, trying not to flash my bits as I pull my clothes back up, but can hear laughter from my audience outside.
With my bum still out, my head whips back to the guests.
‘Here she is, ladies and gents,’ Alastair calls happily, his voice booming through the crowd. ‘Our best friend, Sarah. This wouldn’t be a celebration without her.’
I look at him aghast, trying to scream at him that now’s not the time to draw attention to me, but he continues regardless.
‘You might think it’s strange that Dan’s ex is here – but it would be stranger if she wasn’t.’
‘Hear hear,’ echoes the crowd.
I pull a bizarre-looking smile at the faces in front of me in response, relieved when he continues talking to the crowd whilst walking off elsewhere and I can properly rearrange my clothes so that they’re covering me up.
I stand upright and step out of the cubicle and spot James Corden sat on a bench talking to some of Dan’s mates.
‘Did you see what just happened?’ I ask, unable to get over the humiliation.
He shrugs and raises his pint at me, before turning back to the conversation his friends are having.
I walk off in a huff and find myself wandering up some steps, where I stumble upon David Beckham and Justin Bieber chilling in a hot tub, staring out at the gorgeous view of the sea.
I literally shrug off my woes and clothes before climbing in to join them, closing my eyes and enjoying the warmth of the water.
Everything is still.
I’m engulfed with calm.
David and Justin leave.
I am alone.
Suddenly someone’s lips are on mine, kissing me passionately. Hands are sliding over my body under the water, stroking and caressing.
I open my eyes to find Dream Brett’s hazelnut eyes gazing at me lustfully as his perfectly white teeth nibble on my bottom lip.
I’m instantly on fire as a hot sensation of desire flushes through my body, wakening every last cell – making my whole body alert and ready.
I dive on him, pushing him back so that he’s sitting on the other side of the tub, my hands running through his hair and pulling it slightly, making him moan.
I want him so much I feel dangerous. Powerful.
My lips find his.
My tongue finds his.
My body finds his – the desire mounting as we collide and slip with the water between us.
I kneel over him, straddling either side of his muscular legs, my hands working quickly to find him and slide him inside me.
I groan, my breathing erratic and loud thanks to the movement between my thighs …
I gasp as the well-known guitar riff wakes me up and pulls me away from my fun in the hot tub. Then I go as red as my crimson bedsheets as I realize I’ve had another naughty dream about my sort-of-work-colleague. Well, about Dream Brett. Although it’s nice to know that Dream Brett hasn’t wandered off into someone else’s dreams (God knows I’ve missed him), I’ve now woken up desperately horny and deeply unsatisfied … and am about to walk into a meeting with a guy that looks just like the one I’ve had sex in a hot tub with.
Oh life, how can you be so cruel?
I decide on a little skirt, tights and ankle boot combo – my dream tempting me to wear something sexier than normal. Plus, now that I’m in the Development meetings I really should be making more of an effort anyway, I reason.
‘So my working title for this idea is Grannies Go Gap,’ I say, kicking off my pitch in front of Damian, Louisa and Real Brett a few hours later – although trying my hardest to forget that the latter is even there.
‘Grannies?’ scoffs Louisa, adding in a little eye roll before looking at Damian as though the world’s gone mad. ‘Old people?’
‘Yes,’ I mumble.
‘As in pensioners?’
‘Shall we listen?’ cuts in Real Brett – I must say, he’s particularly good at shutting down her stroppy behaviour, even though he’s new. He doesn’t seem to be shy about it either – I guess that’s down to having a good take on right and wrong and possessing a strong moral compass. Interesting to know he has that … just like Dream Brett.
I wonder if he’s good in bed like Dream Brett.
Focus, Sarah, focus!
Damian exhales loudly, bringing me back into the room.
Oh fuck.
‘Erm, would you rather something else instead?’ I flap. ‘Maybe it would be best if I talked about..… ’
I flick through my notes frantically, feeling like a first-class tit – knowing that I have absolutely nothing else worth mentioning.
‘I want to hear the Granny idea,’ encourages Brett – his green eyes wide and keen as he nods enthusiastically.
Damian says nothing but looks at me expectantly – his eyebrows tilting upwards just a fraction.
Louisa looks like she’s already bored. If Real Brett weren’t here I imagine she’d be fake yawning to further her stance on the pitch I haven’t even pitched yet.
‘All right …’ I exhale, calming the nerves that have exploded from my gut thanks to her input. ‘So, Grannies Go Gap is different from any other show we’ve done where we’re helping the elderly find some beautiful house on a remote island off the coast of Greece. Instead, we’d send them out to all the top spots for Gap Year students and young travellers. They’ll basically become backpackers and travel the world – although we’d probably have to look into whether the bags actually have anything in them, we don’t want anyone collapsing or worse – dying on us,’ I stop myself knowing that I’ve gone off on a tangent and hit a bad note before I’ve really begun.
‘Carry on,’ says Damian, looking as though he wants to hear more – I take that as a good sign and plough on.
‘We’ve all seen the stories in the papers of grandparents frequently feeling out of the loop when it comes to things like technology – it’s a serious issue that was thrown into the limelight last year when an eighty-nine-year-old woman decided to end her life because she couldn’t get to grips with how the world had changed so dramatically in recent years – she felt left behind in a world that had advanced beyond recognition. We know there are going to be loads of shows popping up about making things like the internet more accessible to the elderly – but what about making the world more accessible instead. I don’t know about you guys, but my nan and granddad on my dad’s side have only ever been to two countries – England and, on one occasion, France. When they were younger holidays were spent in Blackpool or on the Isle of Wight – they never travelled further than a few hours’ drive from their home, let alone get on a plane and fly halfway around the world to walk up The Blue Mountains in Australia, dance in the streets of Rio de Janeiro or to elephant trek in Thailand. The younger generation has the world at their feet, and that’s a fact that’s largely taken for granted.
‘I want Grannies Go Gap to be more than just showing a gran how to do her internet banking or open a Facebook account – it’ll be about showing her a world that has only ever existed on the little black box in the corner of her living room.’
I pause for a moment and take a deep breath – astounded that the three of them ha
ve remained so quiet and interested, even Louisa.
‘Too many people give up and think they’re too old to go out there and grab whatever they want – but maybe this’ll give other elderly folk some encouragement – maybe not to go to New Zealand and skydive, but at least to go off on holidays or do things out of their comfort zone.
‘… And this shouldn’t be a piss-take or like we’re taking advantage of them in any way like some shows do. We would be genuinely giving them the chance to do some amazing things. I don’t want people feeling sorry for them – although I’m guessing there’ll be highly emotional moments within the programme. Maybe we could even find elderly folk who’ve had lifelong dreams to go to certain places and then take them there, rather than whisking them off for a whole year. We could have a play around and see what works best – a whole big adventure where our granny sees a few places, or individual trips to one spot where they see or do something specific … imagine waiting your whole lifetime to see the Niagara Falls and then marvelling over its beauty as you feel its spray lightly decorating your face … Anyway,’ I breathe, glad to get my pitch out there in a coherent manner. ‘That’s where I’m at with the idea … Although, I’m happy to tweak and develop it. Obviously.’
Damian’s eyebrows rocket up to his hairline as he expels a lungful of air whilst blowing a raspberry – I’m not sure he even caught a breath during my whole spiel. ‘Well, I’ll be honest, Sarah. I really wasn’t expecting that.’
‘In a good way?’ I ask, because they’re all looking at me really strangely now I’ve finished – Louisa doesn’t look quite so Poutmouthy or bitchy and Real Brett is looking at me weirdly too – but then anything from him is weird when I’m used to gauging Dream Brett’s reactions, not his.
‘A very good way,’ Damian nods, side-glancing at Louisa and Real Brett. ‘I’d like you to develop this a little further – find case studies of old people who’ve never set foot outside of the UK. At some point Research can get involved when we’re looking at locations and things, but for now find the old folk, find the popular Gap Year destinations and get a proper package of info together so that we can present it to Jonathan. Louisa and Brett can help you on this. Right, I’ve got a lunch meeting that I’ve got to get to, but this is great. Well done guys.’
‘But I haven’t told you my ideas yet,’ says Louisa with a bewildered frown.
‘Next time,’ Damian offers, before walking out of the room.
Louisa throws a confused look at us before skulking after him.
‘That was brilliant,’ says Real Brett, winking at me. ‘I’ve heard he can be a tough nut to crack, but you just smashed that.’
‘Thank you,’ I laugh, thoroughly pleased with myself.
My heart is still beating at a ridiculously fast pace, but the whole thing really couldn’t have gone any better and was totally worth the week of sleepless nights and the mounting anxiety.
‘Want to go grab a coffee later to celebrate?’ Real Brett asks with a shy grin.
My eyes widen in response.
I’m stumped and in total shock – I wasn’t expecting him to ask that at all.
Does he mean coffee like coffee-coffee on a date coffee, or just a coffee? Do I want a date coffee if that’s what he means? Or is that weird when I’ve been dreaming of a different version of him entirely and this morning woke up from having jacuzzi sex with him?
I take too long answering and the air between us gets uncomfortable – especially as I’ve had my mouth open as though I’m about to give a reply for the last thirty seconds, but with no sound coming out.
It’s awful.
‘Sorry – bad manners on my part,’ he says, shaking his head as though he hasn’t a clue what he was thinking by asking such a thing. ‘Second week here and I’m already hitting on people. Terrible. You probably have a boyfriend. I shouldn’t have … you know … assumed you didn’t … Not that you look like you wouldn’t have one. Oh crap. Sorry. I’ll just …’ and with that he shuffles through the door like a nervous and embarrassed little boy.
I feel terrible, and relieved, but mostly I feel terrible.
‘Let me get this straight,’ Carly says while she’s stood over the stove throwing together a pasta sauce (literally throwing as she chucks in grated carrots and courgettes). ‘Brett Last – the guy you’ve been fantasizing about for the last month – asked you out on what was clearly a date and you just didn’t say anything?’
‘Yep. Stood there gawping at him like a fucking twat.’
‘You said nothing at all?’ she asks, stirring the pot in front of her whilst shaking her head as though I’ve just done the stupidest thing ever.
‘I was shocked. Plus I haven’t been dreaming about this version of him, have I. He’s differe …’
‘He’s real,’ she says flatly.
‘Exactly,’ I nod, filling up the kettle and switching it on.
She shakes her head at me.
‘Yes, I know … it’s pretty fucked up.’
‘What’s the worst that could’ve happened if you’d said yes?’ she asks, taking the chopping board and knife over to the sink and rinsing them.
‘I’d become even more disappointed that he’s not Dream Brett,’ I nearly whisper.
‘Ooh …’ she says, turning back to me and screwing up her face. ‘And what if he turns out to actually be a really nice guy?’
‘That’s possible …’ I shrug.
‘Think about it – there must’ve been something you liked about him all those years ago that’s kept the memory of him stored away in that brain of yours for so long.’
‘True. But I can’t even look at him without getting irritated that he’s not the other Brett – it’s like someone’s playing a huge trick on me.’
‘They aren’t and it’s simple – one is real, one is not.’
‘Ouch.’
‘Sorry. Maybe you should give him a chance,’ she shrugs, grabbing a tea towel and drying her hands. ‘Or at the very least, not be such a dickhead to him.’
Carly is definitely a believer in tough love.
‘Maybe you’re right,’ I mutter, getting a bag of fusilli from the cupboard and trying to stop myself getting into a petty strop over my inability to stop my dreams take over my feelings in real life – darn that sleep fairy. ‘Anything new with you?’
‘Nope.’
‘Have you been to see the doctor yet?’ I ask, pouring half the packet of pasta into a pan of boiling water and stirring it.
‘Only to confirm I am actually pregnant – which I knew anyway, but what’s one more stick to pee on and a bit of blood being sucked out of my arm?’ she giggles, squeezing some tomato purée into the sauce.
‘Nice. No scans yet then?’
‘Not until we get to twelve weeks – but it’s all booked in for the beginning of January – although I think I’ll actually be thirteen weeks by then. Just couldn’t get an appointment,’ she says, raising her eyebrows and sucking in air through gritted teeth. ‘I can’t wait to see him or her bouncing around inside me. I keep going on YouTube and looking at other people’s scan videos.’
‘That is strange.’
‘I know, but I can’t help it,’ she says, bringing her hands to her face with embarrassment. ‘It amazing to see what stage the little one is already at, you know?’
‘So exciting … and real.’
‘I know,’ she winks. ‘Petrifying, obviously, but seeing how brilliant everyone was when we told them and how sweet their reactions were – it’s calmed me down and made me look forward to what’s ahead rather than just seeing it as this huge thing hanging over me all the time. And Josh has been incredible, too.’
‘Still can’t get my head around that,’ I laugh, my face distorting into an expression of disbelief. ‘Eleven years of friendship and then one day you start seeing them differently. Just like that.’
‘I can’t even explain it, but we just fit,’ she says, leaning against the kitchen counter, unable to stop herself
from smiling. ‘I know things got shit when he found out about the baby, but before that and ever since – I’ve never felt so safe and loved, you know?’
‘You guys …’ I gush, her smitten behaviour infectious. ‘Who’d have thought it?’
‘Certainly not me.’ Pause. ‘Definitely not me.’
My phone starts ringing. I take it out of my back pocket to see who’s calling.
‘Mum,’ I groan.
‘Oh … have you spoken to her today?’ Carly asks, avoiding eye contact with me.
‘Not yet. I had planned to on the way home but then I morphed into a man-trampling bitch and forgot about it.’
‘Oh … you might want to speak to her, then,’ she says quickly, twisting her lips and scrunching up her nose.
‘What? Why?’ I ask, wondering what’s going on.
‘I forgot to tell you she called yesterday when you were in the bath – your phone was on the side in here and I picked it up.’
‘That doesn’t matter,’ I shrug, confused, assuming she’d only been calling to check up on me and make sure I’d done my homework like a good girl and prepared properly for today. It’s a good job I didn’t talk to her, I reason, she’d only have made me more nervous.
‘Yeah, but I picked up and started chatting. You know how she likes to ask questions … Next thing you know I’m telling her about me and Josh having a baby,’ she says, bringing her hands to her face and blowing out her lips in a loud raspberry.
‘Ah. I’m so sorry, Carly,’ I say, relieved when the ringing stops and my mum’s put through to my voicemail. ‘What did the wicked witch say?’ I ask.
I would feel bad about referring to my mum in such a negative light, but I’m well aware that she can have a vicious tongue at times and that she finds it difficult to keep control of it.
My phone starts ringing again.
‘She was amazing, actually. Really sweet.’
‘She was?’ Pause. ‘Are you sure it was my mum?’
‘Answer,’ Carly whispers.
‘Mum!’ I cry, picking up the call just before she gets cut off again.
‘There you are. I thought you might be avoiding me,’ she says – I imagine her eyebrows rising as she says it and her olive nostrils giving a wave as they flare.
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