Thank You, Next: A perfect, uplifting and funny romantic comedy

by Sophie Ranald

  Dani sighed. ‘Not for want of trying, on Fabian’s part.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really. He’s sent flowers to my flat and to work, and he keeps calling and texting.’

  ‘Why don’t you block his number?’

  ‘I should, I know. It just seems too kind of final. I think about it sometimes and I’m… not tempted to take him back, exactly, but I just wonder whether if I’d done things differently, it could all have worked out.’

  ‘Differently how? He hurt you, remember? What are you meant to have done differently?’

  ‘I don’t know. Been more assertive, maybe? Set boundaries? All the shit you’re meant to do in relationships but I didn’t do because I was so scared of losing him. And now I’ve lost him anyway.’

  ‘You dumped him. That’s totally different from losing him.’

  ‘Oh God. I know you’re right. I need to give my head a wobble and move on. Like you’ve moved on.’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it quite that strongly. I’ve got back on Tinder and been on two dates.’

  ‘Two dates! Strong work, Zoë.’

  ‘Not really. First guy was a Capricorn. They’re meant to be all strong and dependable. Which was why I was surprised when he was half an hour late and then spilled a pint of lager over me.’

  ‘Oh no!’

  ‘Oh yes. And he was blatantly at least five years older than his profile said and four inches shorter. I mean, I’m not tall. I don’t mind dating short men. I know the whole thing about wanting a guy to be taller than you is patriarchal bullshit. But…’

  ‘Don’t tell porkies in your profile?’

  ‘Exactly. Then the Leo guy – apparently they’re fun to be around, super-sociable but a bit egotistical – turned out to be not much fun to be around and super-egotistical. He literally talked about himself non-stop for two hours.’

  ‘God, there’s nothing worse than an I specialist.’

  ‘Yeah. If I’d told him I’d been on holiday to Tenerife, he’d have been to Elevenerife. So I said I wasn’t feeling it.’

  ‘But you’ve got another date this evening. I’d call that getting straight back on the horse.’

  ‘That would have to be Sagittarius, though. This one’s Taurus.’

  ‘Shame. Sagittarius is half man, half horse, right? Imagine shagging one of those.’

  We giggled.

  ‘I wonder how it would work?’ I said. ‘Like, with all the extra legs and stuff.’

  ‘Bloody hell, I thought I was too boring in bed for Fabian and here I am discussing horse sex.’

  ‘Enough of that. What should I expect from Mr Taurus?’

  ‘He’ll be full of bull?’

  Still laughing, we parted: Dani turning up the high street to the dental surgery, and I returning to the Ginger Cat to get ready for my date with Brett. Mysterious Brett, who might or might not be a spy.

  As I walked, I opened the Stargazer app on my phone and glanced at my horoscope for the day, not for the first time.

  Things are not always what they seem, Aquarius. You might not be regretting decisions you’ve made, but if you let your natural impulsiveness come to the fore, you could soon be regretting other ones.

  By the app’s recent standards, this was pretty tame stuff. I’d begun to wonder, recently, whether there was something strange going on with it – some glitch in the algorithm or something. Just that morning, I’d had a push notification flash up on my screen that had said, The camera doesn’t lie, Aquarius. You really do look ridiculous when you smile.

  I’d dashed to the mirror and grinned at my reflection like a mentaller. I didn’t look any different from normal, but I’d spent the rest of the morning so glum-faced that Robbie asked me if someone had died. I’d forgotten about it pretty quickly, obviously, and gone back to smiling a normal amount.

  But then another notification had told me, You might think you can trust your friends, but what are they saying about you when your back is turned? and I’d felt myself getting all paranoid again and wondering, when I heard a shout of laughter come from the table where Maurice and his mates were playing dominoes, whether they were talking about me.

  I hurried up to the flat and showered and changed ready for my date, pleased that I’d gone to the effort of having my nails and eyelashes done, telling myself that if I was going to be back in the dating game, it was quicker than doing them myself and an investment in my future.

  ‘Okay, Frazz,’ I said to my cat, who was lounging on the back of the sofa looking deeply pissed off that I should have the bare-faced cheek to go out on my evening off, rather than staying in with him and maybe playing an exciting game of pounce with my toes under the duvet. ‘I’m off. You’re in charge here.’

  Frazzle blinked crossly.

  ‘I know, I know. But at least Jude isn’t here any more, and you ought to be relieved about that, because you never liked him much, did you?’

  Frazz blinked again, then stood up, yawned hugely, stretched his back and then each of his four legs, and followed me out, trotting down the stairs and into the bar, where he’d spend the evening socialising and staring pleadingly at the customers until they gave him scraps of food off their plates.

  ‘I won’t be late,’ I said. ‘Mind you be a good cat, okay?’

  I hadn’t bargained for just how not-late I would be, however. It was before eight when I returned to the Ginger Cat, strangely rattled by the revelation I’d had about Brett. I hadn’t felt unsafe at any point. Nothing bad had happened. But still, the whole experience had been the worst of my dating life thus far – a new low. One day, I hoped, I’d be able to look back on the time I thought I was on a date with a spy, only he turned out to have been recently released from gaol, and have a good laugh about it. But I wasn’t there yet – not by a long shot. And the prospect of going up to the flat and spending the evening alone made me feel weirdly insecure.

  So instead of climbing the stairs and going home, I pushed open the door to the pub. I could sit on my own and have a drink, or help Alice out behind the bar, or maybe Archie and Nat would be there and I could join them for a bit. Or, if all else failed, I’d go into the kitchen, pull rank on Robbie and tell him that I could decide to cancel my evening off any time I liked.

  But the first person I noticed was Adam. He was sitting alone at a table, not working on the Dungeons & Dragons game or tapping busily at his laptop but reading a book, a half-finished plate of food in front of him, Frazzle snoozing on his lap.

  I needed company, and he was going to have to put up with me.

  Alice poured me a glass of red wine and I asked for a mint julep as well, and took the two drinks over to Adam’s table.

  ‘Hi,’ he said, glancing up from his book.

  ‘Hi. Mind if I join you? I brought you a cocktail.’

  Adam shook his head and closed his book, putting a paper napkin inside to mark the place. ‘Thanks.’

  I sat down and took a sip of wine, and noticed that my hands were shaking so hard my teeth rattled against the glass.

  ‘Are you okay, Zoë?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I am. I’m fine. I just had a really weird experience and I’m not sure what I think about it.’

  Adam raised an eyebrow. ‘Want to talk about it? I’m good at telling people what they should think about things.’

  I took another big gulp of wine and found myself blurting out the whole story of my date with Brett.

  ‘I’d kind of persuaded myself that him being all weird and secretive about his life was a good thing. Like it made him more interesting, mysterious and stuff. I’d even half-convinced myself that he was a secret agent. And then when I saw the tag on his ankle, I realised how wrong I’d been.’

  ‘Must’ve come as a bit of a shock, realising he’d been doing porridge instead of sending undercover messages to his fellow spooks.’

  I managed a shaky laugh. ‘Exactly. Less of the designer dinner jacket and more of the orange jumpsuit. Except they don’t wear orange jumpsuits
in prison here, do they?’

  ‘I have no idea. Never having done time in one.’

  ‘But then part of me is like, was I being really harsh and judgemental? I mean, I always think of myself as being super open-minded, and here I am completely writing someone off as a date because of something that happened in their past. And I don’t even know what he’d done. It could’ve been murder or it could have been – I don’t know, committing some sort of victimless white-collar crime to pay for his grandmother’s life-saving surgery or something.’

  ‘Zoë, there’s being open-minded and then there’s being so open-minded you let your brain fall out. You’re allowed to decide who you date and who you don’t, for whatever reason. It’s not an equal-opportunity situation. If you don’t like someone’s face or they give you bad vibes or you’re just not feeling it, you can walk away and you don’t have to feel bad about it. And I bet you were getting bad vibes before you even noticed the tag thing, right?’

  ‘I… yeah, to be fair, I was. Not least because he smelled like he’d had a bath in tequila before he came.’

  Adam grimaced. ‘Oh no.’

  ‘Oh yes. Right then, I should have called it a day and told him I was leaving. But I didn’t.’

  Adam sipped his drink and pushed his glasses up his nose. ‘Why do you think that was?’

  ‘I just… I don’t know, I suppose I didn’t want to be rude. And I didn’t want him to think I was a horrible person. And I didn’t want myself to think I was a horrible person.’

  ‘Oh, Zoë.’ He shook his head pityingly. ‘Just as well you left, otherwise you’d probably be marrying the guy in two weeks, because he asked and you didn’t want to offend him.’

  ‘Oh God. I know – you’re right. Worried about offending an offender, what am I like?’

  ‘Still, you got out of there in the nick of time,’ Adam said.

  It took me a second, then I got his joke. ‘Just as well I didn’t let my guard down.’

  ‘Or you could have ended up shackled to him for life.’

  ‘It’s because I over-cell myself.’

  ‘You need to be more fuzz-y.’

  ‘I’m just bad at thinking off the cuff.’

  Adam paused, and I could see his brain working overtime as he tried to think of more crime-and-punishment-related puns.

  ‘Another drink?’ he said, and headed for the bar before I could even properly accept. A few moments later he was back with two glasses.

  ‘Thanks, Adam.’

  ‘Know what we have to do now?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Clink.’

  I groaned and we both laughed, relishing our shared silliness. My sense of anxiety had faded, and I knew that it wouldn’t be long until I’d forgotten all about the date, except as a funny story to tell.

  ‘Anyway—’ I began, but Adam spoke at exactly the same moment.

  ‘Zoë, I was—’

  ‘After you,’ I said.

  ‘No, you go first.’

  ‘Anyway, I’ve been thinking, and that’s me done. I’ve given dating my best shot and it just hasn’t worked for me. I’m going to go back to being single, and if I die surrounded by cats I don’t care. There are worse things, right?’

  ‘I guess,’ he said slowly. ‘I mean, you must do whatever makes you happy.’

  ‘Exactly. And dating hasn’t. And therefore, I’m out. Now what was it you were going to say before you were so rudely interrupted?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Adam said.

  Twenty-Seven

  Don’t be afraid to speak your mind. Do be afraid of how others will react when you do.

  From behind the kitchen door, I could hear the beat of music and the hum of voices talking and laughing. The pub seemed to be alive to a different rhythm than usual. Its normal routine varied a little from morning to evening, from day to day and from week to week, but essentially it was the same. If you walked in through the door and saw the mums and babies finishing off their coffee and muffins, Maurice and his friends just getting started on their game of dominoes, Fat Don propping up the bar and a pay-what-you-can curry lunch advertised on the blackboard, you knew it was around eleven fifteen on a Wednesday morning.

  That was how it was: consistent and predictable. There had been huge changes when Alice took over, of course, but it had been like the old place had given itself a shake, got some new clothes and then settled down into a new routine.

  Tonight felt different, though. It was like the poetry evenings Drew organised occasionally, or like Maurice and Wesley’s wedding day had been. Although there were lots of disparate groups of people in the bar, together they made up one group, because they were all there for the same reason. And the reason was a celebratory one. No one was there because they were going to dump their boyfriend and thought they might as well do it over a drink. No one was drowning their sorrows after losing a job or a bet. No one was working, hunched intently over their laptop.

  Over the course of the evening, the noise beyond the door had gradually built up, from the first hum of voices, the tap of a hammer stringing bunting over the beams and the rattle of crates of prosecco being delivered, to a buzz of conversation and laughter and the beat of music.

  And Robbie and I were working to a rhythm of our own. Outside in the beer garden, which was littered now with fallen leaves and horse chestnuts that were keeping the squirrels busy, he was manning the barbecue, cooking not just shrimp but burgers and chicken and halloumi cheese and vegetable skewers, served with the salads and bread I’d made. In the kitchen, I was putting the finishing touches to a tray of chocolate and coconut cakes and four huge pavlovas, which Google had assured me were a New Zealand thing not an Australian one, but still a feature of just about any Antipodean celebration.

  I was interrupted by a tap on the door, and before I could respond it swung open, and Adam’s face appeared in the gap.

  ‘Sorry to bother you, Zoë.’

  ‘That’s okay. Although strictly speaking you’re not allowed in here, you know. “Staff Only” – it says right there on the door.’

  ‘I know. But the Ginger Cat’s Dungeon Master kind of counts as staff, right?’

  Adam looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen him. His denim shirt was undone an extra button, showing a tan line where it normally closed. His hair was sticking up a bit, like he or someone else had run their hands through it and mussed it. He had a beer in his hand and a big grin on his face.

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ I said, but I couldn’t help smiling back.

  ‘Everyone says the food is fantastic. They want to buy the chef a drink.’

  ‘What if the chef’s busy?’

  ‘She’s got backup.’ Robbie whisked into the kitchen. ‘The barbecue’s all done. You take a break, Zoë, and I’ll serve up dessert in a bit.’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘Sure. Seriously, there’s nothing more for me to do out there. Freddie’s clearing up and the coals are dead even if there was more food to cook, which there isn’t.’

  ‘Okay. Give me a second.’

  Adam let the door swing shut behind him and I pulled off my apron, grabbed my bag off its hook on the back of the door and ducked into the ladies’ loo, where I ran my fingers through my frizzing hair and slapped a bit of mattifying powder on my face, which was all shiny from the heat of the kitchen. As I was considering whether to put on some lipstick or not bother, a woman emerged from the cubicle behind me.

  She looked like a Victoria’s Secret Angel, no word of a lie. She was tall and slender, but curvy too. Her hair was sun-kissed honey blonde and tumbled down her lightly tanned back. She was wearing ripped mom jeans, a cropped white broderie anglaise top and trainers, but she was so stunning she made it all look like haute couture.

  She looked at me curiously and said, ‘Hello.’

  ‘Hi. I’m Zoë. I’m the chef; I haven’t gatecrashed the party. But Adam said I should look in for a drink, so I’m just trying to make myself look a bit more presenta
ble.’

  ‘It was you who made all that incredible food! I’m so grateful – it’s all been totally amazing.’ She folded me into a hug, smelling of some sort of expensive floral perfume and a bit of prosecco. ‘I’m Tansy; it’s me the party’s for. Well, me and my boyfriend Josh.’

  ‘Hi. Welcome home, I guess.’

  Her beauty was downright intimidating, but her smile was warm and genuine.

  ‘Adam told us all about this place, and now we’re all getting to see it. It’s just incredible; I love it!’ she gushed, and then she fixed me with a beady stare. ‘So you play Dungeons & Dragons with him, right?’

  ‘That’s right. Well, me and a few others. Adam’s our Dungeon Master.’

  ‘He must be good at that.’

  ‘He is. He’s awesome. It’s like he’s got this whole world inside his head and while we’re playing, we’re all completely engrossed in it. Total suspension of disbelief. It’s great.’

  Again, she smiled that lovely smile, but followed it up with a hard stare. ‘He’s a very special person. Come on, why don’t you have a drink, if you’re done working? And thanks again for everything – it’s been such a brilliant evening.’

  I followed her out into the bar. It was strange to be in the Ginger Cat as a guest, and even stranger to be the guest of people I didn’t know. The pub was crowded. Everyone had drinks in their hands, a few people were still eating, everyone was talking and laughing. Frazzle was working the room, his fluffy tail held high, accepting admiration and fuss from all and sundry.

  Tansy introduced me to her boyfriend Josh and a few other people whose names I couldn’t remember. Everyone was friendly and said nice things about the pub and the food. Tansy and Josh were so relaxed together, laughing and meeting each other’s eyes in a way that made me think wistfully how fabulous it would be to be properly in love. And then, with every single person I talked to, the same thing happened.