“Yes, I’ll speak to her if you want me to, Nathan. Deb’s right, you should take the next step. You haven’t seen Millie since Christmas. Nothing’ll change until you take formal action.”
“I’m taking my own action in my own way. Thank you. But, okay, a letter is a small step in the right direction, just to let Emma know I am determined to maintain a relationship with Millie and will never give up. Can you keep the wording neutral though, Becky? Wouldn’t want to inflame the Rugger Boy.”
Rebecca was amazed he had agreed. This was a huge step. Had he borrowed the book from her drawer? Had her own challenge success inspired him to move forward? But what did he mean, ‘I’m taking my own action?’
“Right, Becky, the date.” Deb chewed thoughtfully on the end of her pen before she flicked her eyes to Rebecca’s. “Gather up your courage, nothing too formal to start with, just invite someone for a coffee. Is there anyone you’ve admired from afar? Don’t think George Clooney is free!”
“No one at all. Sorry. Boring and dull, I know.”
“What about your neighbour, Barry, you sometimes mention? The one who helps out with Max, has a little girl? Sounds ideal.”
“It’s Brian, and I can’t say I’ve ever admired him from afar, or from close quarters either. But he’s a decent enough bloke, good with Max.”
“Identity of date solved. Meet-at-café option or picnic-in-the-park option?”
“If it has to be Brian, the picnic-in-the-park option, then we can take Max and Erin.”
“On a date? Oh, well, it’s your date. Now what to wear and how to ensure you make a good impression. Here’s the list, learn them off by heart. You can make notes, too, Nath.”
Deb counted them off on her fingers, her long nails painted sparkling emerald green to match her engagement ring.
“One, dress comfortably. Two, body language is important. Face your date, be interested and receptive, and engage eye contact. Yes, I get that, you’re always slouched over your desk, Becky. Upright, my girl!” And she stuck out her ample breasts. “Three, comment positively on an item your date is wearing. Four, don’t, under any circumstances, moan about ex partners. Five, have fun. Six, don’t be afraid to snog his lips off!” She dissolved into fits of laughter and, disappointingly, so did Nathan.
“That last one was a ‘Deb extra’, wasn’t it?” Rebecca rolled her eyes at her friend.
“What’re you three cooking up?” Georgina had concluded one of her marathon calls and wandered over, smiling.
“Becky’s off on a date with her neighbour, Brian. We’re relying on The Little Green Book of Wishes’ advice for its success, and then we’ll move on to the ‘Romancing’ and the ‘Marrying’ sections. It’s a real gem! A sparkling emerald in the world of dusty old books. Next on our agenda is the section on kissing—the dos and the don’ts!”
Eyes stretched wide, Georgina perched her pert, designer-clad bottom on the corner of Rebecca’s desk. “I’m interested to hear this.”
Rebecca had a lot of respect for Georgina. She hoped that as she progressed up the ranks at Baringer & Co, her sensible, down-to-earth approach would temper the Rottweiler image of the rest of the Baringer & Co partnership—a corporate world where financial targets could be achieved, but also employers were fair to their staff and families.
Georgina towed the partnership line with her dress code. Immaculate navy skirt suit—no trousers allowed for partners—tight-fitting, ice-white cotton shirt, double cuffs linked with cute black cats. Her facial features were sketched with clear charcoal strokes, dark eyebrows, dark eyes and lashes, and deep plum lipstick. With her short black curls pushed neatly behind her ears, she lacked the polished perfection of Lucinda and appeared all the better for it.
“Right here, you read it, Georgina,” Deb suggested.
Georgina grabbed the book and crossed her shapely legs, swinging her peep-toe, navy stilettos, and assumed her best advocate’s voice. “Meet his eyes, use open, receptive body language, arms loosely at your side, lean forward, tilting your head so as to avoid bumping noses.”
Deb snorted, placing the back of her left hand to her cheek.
“Your lips gently meet your date’s…”
Deb slowly touched her pink frosted lips to her hand.
“Try not to breathe too deeply or too fast.”
Deb slurped and sucked at her hand and they all erupted with fits of laughter.
“And release! Check your date’s reaction. If he’s horror-struck, then you probably should not repeat!”
More bursts of laughter. All the tension from that morning’s hot house of work released, firming their bonds of friendship.
“Look at the next nugget of advice. If your date’s reaction is positive, repeat the process adding a nibble, a soft enticing waft of breath to his earlobe, neck, or hairline.’ That’s if he’s got any hair, of course!”
Deb was now laughing so hard tears streamed down her rounded pink cheeks. “I’ve got to pee!” She shot off, clanging the glass door as she dashed to the restrooms, thereby waking the beast.
“What’s going on?” Lucinda’s face creased into a frown. “Why all the hilarity? No one got any work to do? Georgina?”
“Sorry, Lucinda. Just an article we’ve read, expelling the pent-up pressure, you know. We’re back to the grind now.”
Rebecca ducked her head behind her computer and Nathan scooted back to his cubby hole.
“I expect you all to meet your targets at the end of June. If anyone fails to do so, they’ll have me to contend with. I’m all for sessions of colleague-bonding, but on your own time, please, not to the detriment of your commitment to Baringer and our clients.”
Yeh, right, thought Rebecca. What bonding did Lucinda encourage? But she quashed the disloyal reaction. Lucinda had been her saviour in her darkest hour and she owed her tremendously. If only she would lighten up a little. Didn’t she have more in her life than corporate concern? The answer didn’t look too promising.
She’d scrutinised her figures for the last quarter and, thankfully, she was on target. But she wanted to prove to Lucinda that she could work even harder, exceed that expectation and she had a week to do it. Not only did she need her job, but she wanted to make progress toward revitalising her career prospects and resuming her position on the solicitors’ roll.
Deb returned, refusing to be deflected from her march along the road toward the cure of Rebecca’s list addiction and to stumble upon love on the way. “So, when’s the date going to be? I say a week on Saturday, sixth July?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Saturday, sixth July, was a day Rebecca had been dreading. Not the best frame of mind to be in for a date. She had only caved in and agreed to it under threat of excommunication from Deb and Nathan.
It was only a picnic in the park with Brian, Erin, and Max, an activity they’d had fun doing last summer when the sun wore its sombrero. But because Deb and Nathan had crafted the innocent outing into the beginnings of the romance of the decade, her stomach screamed nerves and nausea.
On paper, Brian Thomas Garside’s attributes appeared ideal. Any random guy sounded ideal to Deb, caught up in her whirlwind of taffeta and roses. Maybe she should date an axe murderer? Deb wouldn’t care as long as he fulfilled the marriage criteria.
A single father, Brian’s ex-partner had returned to her native Australia when Erin turned eighteen months old, only visiting her daughter once since her abandonment.
Erin was a sweet, calm child, blonde hair frothing like bubbles around her chubby face. Like Max, Erin had recently celebrated her fourth birthday and they would be attending the same school when they started in September.
Rebecca didn’t dislike Brian by any means. He’d proved to be a caring friend, ally, and occasional babysitter. He was a dab hand at small DIY projects and an all-around decent person. Max liked him, too, another plus point for Brian. Yes, on her inevitable list of Brian’s Pros and Cons, theory had it that he scored highly on the Pros.
&
nbsp; “We’re off to the park with Brian and Erin this morning, taking a picnic for lunch, Max. Why don’t you find your red Frisbee and you and Erin can have some fun chasing it?”
“Yes, yes, yes!” Max bounced off to locate it in the jungle of plastic monstrosities in his chaotic bedroom.
After she assembled the finishing touches to the picnic, Rebecca squeezed a chilled bottle of Rosado Cava into the wicker basket, allegedly selected after careful consideration of the advice given in the little green book, but mainly because it had been on special offer at the deli on the corner of her street.
Together she, Deb, and Nathan had scoured and scrutinised the pages of wisdom on ‘Romancing’. Deb had even flicked ahead to ‘Marrying’. Very funny! It had only served to produce even more needless anxiety for a jittery Rebecca.
A gentle rap on her door announced Brian and Erin’s arrival.
“Hi. Are we early?”
“No, just liberating the picnic blanket from hibernation under the stairs. All the food’s prepared over in that wicker basket. Max is very excited and aren’t we lucky with the weather?” she gushed. Why was the pretext of the picnic having such an unfavourable effect on what was essentially an outing they had undertaken several times successfully in the past? “Maybe they can dig in the sand pit or splash in the paddling pool after lunch.”
“Well, we’ll see. I don’t usually allow Erin to play in dirty water. You just can’t be sure what deadly viruses are floating around in those public paddling pools. Don’t want to take the risk.”
“No. Well. Come on, Max. Off we go!”
Max and Erin cantered ahead, delighted to be released from the enclosed space of the apartment, stretching their legs, happy in each other’s company. Max’s spiky hair brushing Erin’s blonde cloud of ringlets as they bobbed along holding hands was a photographer’s dream snapshot.
Curiously tongue-tied, Rebecca’s mouth was as dry as dust, her mind blank of all interesting anecdotes or any of the advice revised with Deb and Nathan from the little green book.
“How’s your week been?” Good grief, how boring was she?
“Oh, exhausting of course. My IT job really saps the energy out of your bones, and I don’t have to tell you how draining it is caring for a young child on your own. But it’s a great idea to step out of the monotony for a picnic in the park—very generous of you to provide the food, Rebecca. Erin is so excited it was a struggle to settle her down last night.”
“Oh, the food was no trouble. Thanks for coming along. And I must say thanks again for having Max for me on the bank holiday. He adored the trip to the cinema. We rarely get the chance to go. He’s still chattering about Lightening McQueen and Mater and Holly Shiftwell!”
Silence again. Brian smiled shyly at her. Unfortunately, his soft chestnut eyes and gentle expression were not enough for Rebecca to overlook one of her pet hates—Brian sported a mousey brown beard. Not one of those fashionable, sexy, Gary Barlow, bit-more-than-a-five-o’clock-shadow types. No, his was a full face mat with a slight curl in it!
She fleetingly thought back to the office hilarity at the ‘Kissing’ section in the little green book and, glancing out of the corner of her eye at Brian’s beard, she experienced a wave of revulsion. No way would she even come close to dragging up that piece of advice today. But he was a genuinely decent guy, so she’d give him a chance.
Ravenscourt Park was already alive with noisy families. Small children released from the tedium of the school timetable scampered freely—the warm sunshine thawing any threat of tantrums—playing ball games, shrieking, and splashing in the germ-ridden pool. Rebecca shook out the red tartan blanket and Max and Erin ran off with the Frisbee.
Rebecca extended her pale legs out in front of her, leaning on her outstretched arms, glad she’d chosen her new denim shorts, relieved she’d remembered to shave the fuzz from her long slender legs. She turned her face up to the warming sun for once not caring about her emerging freckles.
Surreptitiously peeking from beneath her lowered lids, Rebecca scanned Brian’s long legs encased in thick brown cords, her eyes travelling down to his open-toe brown leather sandals worn without socks. His toenails screamed out for one of Deb’s pedicures. She quickly averted her gaze.
Good heavens, if this wasn’t supposed to be a pseudo-date, she wouldn’t have noticed any of these physical imperfections. She’d known Brian for two years as her neighbour and occasional babysitter and she’d never before bothered to consider his attributes, negative or positive. What a shallow person she was!
“Come on, kids. Let’s devour the picnic.” Rebecca called to Max and Erin, unable to meet Brian’s confused expression or to dredge up any more scintillating conversation.
“Yes, yes, yes,” they sang in unison.
Rebecca unpacked the wicker basket and handed Brian the Cava to open. A shot of cool, bubbly elixir would provide the thaw their ‘date’ needed.
“Very generous of you, Rebecca, this all looks lovely, but I’ll decline the alcohol if you don’t mind. I never indulge when Erin’s around.”
Rebecca felt like a reckless, alcoholic parent, intent on getting plastered and staggering back to her tiny flat in an intoxicated stupor, dragging her bedraggled child in the wake of her alcohol fumes.
“Well, I thought one of these plastic flutes with our food would be okay. Just for today. No work tomorrow, you know?”
“I won’t, but thanks anyway.”
Rebecca busied herself laying out miniature bagels filled with cream cheese and smoked salmon, roast beef and ham sandwiches with their crusts cut off, and large plastic containers of Waldorf salad and spicy Moroccan couscous.
“Strawberries and cream for dessert!”
“Oh, Rebecca, sorry. Erin and I are vegan now. We’ll just have the couscous and salad, which I must say look delicious.”
Rebecca and Deb had spent their whole lunch hour yesterday shopping in the upmarket Italian Deli around the corner from their office for the ingredients for the picnic-cum-date, and Rebecca had devoted all morning to assembling the perfect picnic. Unfortunately, veganism had not featured in either hers or Deb’s deliberations.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Brian. I never thought to ask you your food preferences. How rude of me to assume.”
Max wolfed down two ham sandwiches, anxious to return to his Frisbee game. Rebecca caught an envious look from Erin as she tucked into a plate of watercress and couscous. She experienced an unaccountable stab of guilt as she relished how well the sparkling rose went with smoked salmon and sunshine.
“Can we go and splash in the paddling pool, Mum?”
“Yes, love. Have fun!” Rebecca said, and then remembered Brian’s dire warning of the water swarming with a concoction of diseases. “Oh, erm, that’s if Erin’s dad is okay with that, Max.”
“Well, Erin, I’d rather you didn’t, you know. Remember what Daddy told you about the extensive range of germs inhabiting dirty water. I don’t want you to get sick.”
“No, Daddy.” Her face fell forlorn and Rebecca’s heart flipped over in sympathy at the veritable lack of joy allowed in the little girl’s life.
She scrambled to her feet. “Let’s all play Frisbee,” she declared, over-jolly.
They passed a pleasant hour zooming the Frisbee between the four of them, then decided to make their way home when Brian announced the weather forecast had promised rain—not a cloud in the sky—and Rebecca agreed gratefully.
“Thanks, Rebecca. Erin and I had fun today. We’ll do the picnic next time, eh?”
Not likely, thought Rebecca and immediately cursed herself and Deb, for not expanding on the date scenario in the direction of how one politely refused a second date, instead of the scenario Deb preferred, to concentrate on of how to get your date to ask you to marry him!
“Yes, that would be lovely,” she said, as she bundled Max through her chipped, moss-green front door for fear Brian would ‘approach her with positive body language, direct eye contact, and hi
s beard tilted toward her.’
It was her fault, she reasoned. She could raise no enthusiasm or passion for anyone. She’d experienced no spark of romantic interest, in fact if she were bluntly honest, she’d been repelled by his no-alcohol, no-meat, no-splashing, no-fun agenda.
She’d never felt repulsed when dating Bradley, despite his exhibiting some rather unusual personal hygiene traits. Was she still subconsciously in love with him? His immaculate grooming, intoxicating cloud of aftershave, crisp cotton designer-label shirts and linen trousers, his toned, tanned body? Had she succumbed to the human frailty of only pursuing those who’d hurt her the most?
Well, at least she had performed her part of her deal with Deb the Date Maker. No more dates! The item on her wish list that had been a fixture for so long—the happy family scenario for her and Max—was unachievable.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“I’m so disappointed. Did you give it your best shot? Did you adopt the positive body language, direct eye contact, and smile? Then I just can’t understand it!” Deb took Rebecca’s failed date as a personal insult.
“Exactly what I told you,” Nathan said. “You can’t manufacture a successful date. She’s got to at least fancy the guy, the juices of passion have to flow. He sounds mind-numbingly dull to me—inevitable if he works in IT!”
Deb and Nathan had been ping-ponging arguments for the last twenty minutes completely ignoring Rebecca. Every conversation, every word exchanged on her ‘date’ had been relayed by Rebecca under stiff cross-examination and was now being dissected, every glance, every nuance disclosed was considered for its evidence of a blossoming relationship.
“Oh, well, we can’t all be as lucky as me and Fergus,” Deb relented at last. “We had coffee and chocolate fudge cake with Reverend Briggs on Saturday afternoon. He’s happy to allow us to recite our own poems to each other during our vows. The chapel is wedding picture-book perfect. Our photos will be stunning. Only four months to go but there’s still so much to organise.
The Wish List Addiction Page 7