‘I don’t want anything to “work out”. I just want to go on a few dates with the guy and then take him to Francesca’s wedding.’ Which is getting scarily close, FYI. ‘Do you honestly not know anybody?’
Ryan shifts in his seat and starts to fiddle with the beer mat on the table. He does know somebody!
‘Come on, Ryan. Spit it out,’ Lauren urges. ‘Otherwise she’ll have no choice but to go out with Patrick.’
I grasp hold of Ryan’s hand and give him my best pleading look, my eyes as wide and as watery as I can manage. ‘Please don’t make me date Patrick.’
‘I don’t know…’ Ryan tugs his hand away and avoids my Bambi-eyes. ‘What am I supposed to do when you dump him after the wedding?’
‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,’ Lauren says. ‘Just tell us who it is.’
Ryan throws back his head, emitting a defeated sigh. ‘Fine. His name is Ricky. He’s the new PE teacher at school. If you come to my next football match he’ll be there and I’ll introduce you.’
Leaping out of my seat, I plonk myself on Ryan’s lap and give him a noisy kiss on the cheek. ‘You, Ryan Ford, are the best.’
***
Adam and I have never met up outside of work before. We sometimes sneak across to the pub at lunchtime but this is different. We’re meeting up at a pub, but it’s in the evening and well away from the office. The photo booth promo turned out to be a massive success, gaining thousands of new followers across all of our platforms, plus more retweets, shares and comments than we’ve ever had before – collectively. And the best part was a segment on Granada Reports. I mean, if you blinked you’d have missed it, but there I was on the local evening news, having a great old laugh with the public in my tutu and fairy wings. The item was then picked up by The Woodgate Advertiser which, while only a free local newspaper, is publicity all the same – and Mum took great pride in cutting out the article and attaching it to her fridge with a Chester Zoo magnet. The same article is now sitting in a frame in Neville’s office.
‘He’s worth his weight in gold, that one,’ I heard Neville telling Denise the other day as they had a sneaky cig outside. I was on my way back from delivering a set of updated health and safety forms to Fred O’Mara on the shop floor but they didn’t see me as they were huddled in the gap between the Portakabin and the metal fencing. Slipping into the office, I relayed the titbit to Adam and we had a celebratory cup of tea and Adam made a risky dash into Neville’s office to raid the biscuit tin.
Neville was so thrilled with the results of Adam’s photo booth campaign that he’s upped the social media budget so we’re having a second celebration. We could have invited the others but, well, they’re Brinkleys and the idea of spending more time than necessary with them wasn’t so appealing.
I’ve made sure the pub we’re meeting in isn’t The Farthing as I’m still avoiding Dan (who also seems to be avoiding me as I haven’t seen him on a quiz night for ages now). Adam is already sitting in the pub when I arrive and I notice a couple of girls eyeing him up. I emit a telepathic back-off message but by the way they’re giggling coquettishly and duck-facing at him from across the room, they haven’t received it. I’m overcome with a territorial urge as I march towards Adam.
‘Hey you!’ My voice is loud and vibrant and I find myself planting a kiss on his cheek. If that doesn’t tell the girls to back off… well, they’re just a pair of hussies. Adam looks taken aback by my greeting but he soon recovers.
‘Sit down. I’ll get you a drink.’ Adam goes to stand up but I place my hands on his shoulders and push him back down again.
‘Let me. We’re here to celebrate your achievement, remember?’ I flash the girls a triumphant look. The girls seem to have moved on and are currently pouting at a couple of blokes playing pool but I keep my eye on them as I wait for our drinks at the bar. Adam is my friend and I’ve come over all toddler-like in my inability to share.
‘Ah, you’re a pint girl,’ Adam says as I return with the drinks. I’m a bit nervous when he says this but he grins at me and I relax. Ben didn’t like me drinking pints, claiming it made me (and therefore him) look like a chav. He preferred it when I chose a glass of wine or a gin and tonic (yuck).
‘Sure am.’ I clink my glass against his. ‘Cheers.’ I take a sip before sitting down on a stool, making sure the girls are in my eye line. I watch as they sashay across the room towards us but they sail straight past and, wriggling their fingers at the barman, step out of the pub. I feel myself relax now the competition has left.
Competition? What the hell is wrong with me?
‘I’m sorry, what?’ Adam has been talking to me but I’ve been too bogged down with my own thoughts.
‘I said do you play pool?’ He nods to the now vacant pool table.
‘Not very well but I’m willing to give it a go.’
‘Adventurous. I like that.’ Adam grins at me and I feel my tummy do something peculiar. Something it hasn’t done for a long time. I’ve had the odd fluttery-tummy incident since Ben but this is different. This is a serious case of the butterflies.
Adam and I grab our pints and take them through to the pool room. Unsurprisingly, Adam is a much better pool player than I am, but it doesn’t matter as we have a laugh, even if we are often laughing at my atrocious shots.
‘You really are rubbish,’ Adam laughs, stooping to pick up the white ball, which I’ve just sent flying off the table.
‘Hey!’ I pretend to be offended but the truth is I’m having a great time. We’ve spent the evening teasing each other and my stomach is starting to ache with all the laughing we’ve been doing. Why couldn’t the dates I’ve been on recently have been this fun and relaxing? I feel so at ease in Adam’s company, like I’m spending the evening with an old friend. If I’m honest, I was never even this carefree with Ben as I always thought I had something to prove. On that first night, he claimed I was fascinating and I really tried my best to live up to his expectations but the truth is I never felt good enough for Ben. I let him down continuously but I know if he gave me another chance it would be different. I would be different.
Chapter 19
More Dates
Text Message:
Ryan: She got in touch! I told you she would. She wants to see me again
Delilah: Even after you pushed her in the lake?
Ryan: I did not PUSH her in the lake. I slipped, reached out to steady myself and ACCIDENTALLY knocked her into the water. Yeah, I’m surprised she got in touch too, actually
I find myself getting ready for another date. After being introduced to Ryan’s work colleague, we swapped numbers and arranged to meet up during the week. He seemed nice enough when we met at the football match – fun and friendly and didn’t seem to harbour any resentment against his exes – and Ryan assured me that he wasn’t married or a member of a talentless band. Or any band, for that matter.
Ricky has chosen a bowling date, which I’m pretty pleased about. I love bowling (apart from the smelly shoes) so it should be a fun date and much more relaxed than sitting opposite each other in a restaurant. I dress in a pair of jeans and a nice, floaty top before making my way into town and to the bowling alley. I’m early but Ricky is already there, waiting in the arcade. He’s tall and slender without being lanky and has closely cropped gingery/brown hair and pale freckles. At the football pitch, Ricky had been constantly grinning, displaying a good set of teeth and a cheeky, flirtatious style but right now his face is sort of scrunched up as he bashes away at a video game in the arcade. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody look so animated as he uses his whole body to play. His fingers control the character on the screen but his legs are getting in on the action too as he hops up and down and bounces in rhythm with his fingers and his head dodges this way and that as though he’s being physically attacked. Suddenly he slams the button one last time before he raises his fist, punching the air with a whoop of unadulterated joy. I can’t help smiling as he celebrates his victory.
>
‘Delilah!’ Ricky ceases his whooping when he spots me and strides over. ‘Hi! Sorry, I didn’t see you there. You’re early.’
‘So are you.’ I like this. Good time-keeping isn’t necessarily sexy but it’s a definite plus-point in my books.
‘Yeah, I hate being the last to arrive. You look great, by the way.’
‘Thank you.’ I feel myself go all giggly and pink-cheeked. ‘You too.’ And he does. Ricky has a nice, wholesome look about him. He doesn’t quite send my pulse racing like Adam did at the pub the other night but he is cute and I’m sure we’re going to have a fun evening.
‘We’re a bit early. I booked the lane for eight. Do you fancy a game while we wait?’ He indicates the video game and although I’ve never really seen the attraction, I find myself agreeing.
‘I don’t really know what I’m doing,’ I admit as Ricky drops a couple of coins in the slot. Justin has an array of consoles at home but I’ve never been inclined to have a go. Partly because they’re stored in his smelly bedroom where I never venture unless it’s absolutely vital.
‘It’s easy. You’ll soon pick it up.’ Ricky presses a flashing button and points to a bulky cartoon guy on the large screen. ‘See him? You need to defeat him. Like this.’ Ricky starts to hammer at the buttons and I find myself being jostled out of the way as his enthusiasm grows. Not that I mind. I’m more than happy to watch Ricky play. He hops about in front of the machine, his fingers darting across the buttons until the bulky guy ends up flat on the ground.
‘Yes! Get in!’ Ricky adds insult to injury (or death, by the way he’s slumped on the ground) to the bulky guy by slapping his palm down on the screen. ‘Do you want another go?’ Ricky has already inserted more coins into the slot but I take a step back.
‘It’s ok. You have another go. You’re obviously good at it.’
Ricky has a couple more goes of the video game before we head over to the bar to grab a couple of drinks. We both stick to soft drinks (Ricky because he’s driving and me because I want to be fully alert during the date, just in case I have to make a swift exit).
‘So how do you know Ryan?’ Ricky asks as we take a seat at a vacant table. The bowling alley is pretty crammed, despite it being mid-week.
‘We used to live next door to each other growing up.’
‘And you’ve never…’ Ricky wriggles his eyebrows and I find myself laughing.
‘Gosh, no.’ I’ve been asked this question a million times in various forms. People really don’t believe a man and a woman can be friends without having a go in the sack. ‘He’s one of my best friends. It’d be like hooking up with my brother.’ Gross, gross, gross. Why did that analogy even pop into my head?
‘Sorry, it’s really none of my business,’ Ricky says. ‘It’s just I don’t tend to date my mate’s exes.’
I nod in agreement. ‘It gets messy, I suppose.’
‘Something like that.’
‘Well, you don’t have to worry about me and Ryan.’ I take a sip of my drink. ‘Never going to happen.’
We chat for a while longer, passing the time until our lane is free. Ricky is easy to talk to, although I find out pretty quickly that he doesn’t like to be teased. Adam and I spend most of our workday playfully mocking each other so I’m a bit taken aback, but we find our own rhythm.
‘Let’s get you some shoes,’ Ricky says when our lane is free. I exchange my shoes for a pair of damp, clown-style bowling shoes.
‘Don’t you need any?’ I ask as we leave the shoe-hire desk.
Ricky lifts the navy holdall he has slung over his shoulder. ‘Brought my own. And my own ball. I find I play better with it.’
‘You have your own shoes and ball? So you play regularly?’
Ricky nods. ‘Yeah, quite regularly. It’s a great sport.’
I already know that Ricky is sporty due to his job so it isn’t too much of a surprise. We head over to our lane and program our names into the scoreboard. I go first, selecting one of the lightest balls (which is still pretty damn heavy). Self-consciously, I scuttle towards the lane and toss the ball. It lands with a thud but it does somehow make it to the pins, knocking down six, which I’m thrilled with. I take my second turn, flooring two more.
‘Not bad, not bad,’ Ricky says as I return to the seating area. He stands up and rests a hand on my shoulder. ‘But let me show you how it’s really done.’ Ricky winks at me as he picks up his special, personalised ball. It’s a deep blue ball with his name engraved in silver.
Ricky tears towards the lane, dropping into a sort of crouch as he releases the ball. It thunders down the lane, thwacking the pins and sending them all down in one go.
‘Strike!’ Ricky punches the air and saunters back to the seating area. I expect him to blow imaginary smoke from his fingers but luckily for both of us he doesn’t.
‘He’s very competitive,’ I tell Lauren and Ryan the next day. We’re at The Farthing and I’m still not entirely comfortable being here. I tried to get out of it but Lauren practically dragged me here, pointing out that unless I planned to find a new local (which isn’t such a crazy idea), I’d have to suck it up and get used to being in the same room as Dan.
‘Is that a good or a bad thing?’ Lauren asks.
‘I don’t know.’ I take the tiniest sip of my pint. It’s my round next and Dan is the only one manning the bar so I have to drag it out for as long as possible. Hopefully until it’s time to go home. ‘I mean, I don’t want to date a loser or anything, but it did start to get a bit uncomfortable when he started giving the bloke next to us dirty looks whenever he got a strike.’
Bowling with Ricky wasn’t quite as much fun as I’d anticipated. He earned an almost perfect score, only missing a strike once. He made up for it with a spare, but that wasn’t good enough for Ricky and he still saw it as a failure and sulked until the next strike. I managed one (fluky) strike myself, which earned me a high-five from Ricky.
‘You’re still lagging way behind though,’ he’d pointed out. He’d stuck his tongue out after he said it, which softened the blow slightly. But still.
‘Was it enough to put you off seeing him again?’
I think of Dan and the defaced fiver, and of William, possibly still wailing into his pasta. And then there’s philanderer Jack, snake-tongued Wolfgang, bloody nailed Ivor and slimy Patrick. Best not even mention Vincent! A bit of competitiveness is tame in comparison.
‘No, I don’t think it was.’
‘Excellent. Give me your phone.’ Lauren wriggles her fingers at me. ‘Let’s set up another date.’
‘I think I can do that myself.’
Lauren drains her drink and my stomach fills with dread. ‘If we leave it to you, you won’t get in touch with the bloke until Christmas. Gimme.’
I pass my phone to Lauren and grab my purse, taking a twenty out of it and passing it to Ryan. ‘Would you mind going to the bar for me? I’m a bit busy here.’
‘You’ll have to face him again some day,’ Ryan says but he plucks the note from my fingers anyway and wanders off to the bar.
‘What are you saying?’
Lauren reads out her message as she types. ‘Had a fun night. Would love to meet up again soon.’ Lauren glances up from my phone to make sure the message meets my approval.
‘Soon?’ I scrunch up my nose. ‘Doesn’t that sound a bit desperate?’
‘The wedding is fast approaching,’ Lauren points out. ‘You are desperate.’ She looks back down at the screen. ‘Do you want me to put three kisses or just one?’
‘None!’ I snatch the phone back, read through the message and send it off to Ricky before I change my mind.
‘Dan says hi and that he’s sorry about the message he sent you on the fiver,’ Ryan tells me as he places our drinks on the table.
‘Did he?’
Ryan laughs as he drops into his seat. ‘Nah, just pulling your leg.’
‘You’re a pig.’ I hold out my hand for my change (none of which is scraw
led upon).
‘Oink.’ Ryan grins at me and takes a sip of his pint. ‘Anyway, what did you decide to do about Ricky?’
‘She’s sent him a message suggesting they meet up again,’ Lauren says.
‘So now we just have to wait and see if he sends me a reply.’
Chapter 20
The Need for Speed
Text Message:
Delilah: Where are you? The quiz is about to start
Ryan: I’m not feeling well. Don’t think I can make it this week
Delilah: Beyoncé’s Fitter Sisters are here from The Wagon and Horses again
Ryan: I’ll be there in two minutes!
Mum and Dad are snuggled up on the sofa in their pyjamas and dressing gowns when I get up on Saturday morning. They’re watching an episode of Masterchef that they recorded during the week and while normal people salivate over the meals, Mum’s drooling is courtesy of Gregg Wallace.
‘You’re up and about early,’ Mum says, tearing her eyes away from Gregg’s shiny head. It isn’t quite eight o’clock and while I’d usually still be cocooned in bed until at least ten at the weekend (ha! Try midday), I’m showered and dressed and ready to go.
‘I have a date.’
‘Who with this time?’ Dad asks, which earns him an elbow jab from Mum.
Mum beams at me. ‘Ignore him. I think it’s great. A young woman like you should be out having fun.’
‘I have a date with Ricky,’ I tell Mum before turning to Dad. ‘He’s the one I went bowling with the other day.’
‘Blimey, he’s keen.’ Mum’s almost bouncing off the sofa in her excitement, making Dad jiggle up and down beside her. ‘Two dates in one week?’
Actually, I’m the one who has sped up our courtship. As Lauren pointed out, Francesca’s wedding is looming scarily close and I’ve wasted enough time on dud dates. We need to get this show on the road.
‘It’s a bit early for a date, isn’t it?’ Dad asks, which earns him another jab.
The Wedding Date Page 14