‘He was sitting on the drain cover. So I brought him in to say hello.’ John gave the frog to Belle. ‘I’ll just go and put the cover back on.’ He disappeared again.
Belle took the frog to Rory and held it up to her. ‘You should kiss him, Mum. Might turn into a prince.’
That girl was starting to get way too cheeky. ‘Please take him back outside. I don’t have time in my life for frogs. Or princes, for that matter. Speaking of which, this boyfriend of yours…’
John walked back in and started to run the tap in the kitchen. The water drained away perfectly. ‘All done. Now I’ll get my plane out of the car and sort that front door.’
Belle and Rory looked at each other. The boyfriend conversation would have to wait.
* * *
Later that evening, Rory gave Sheila a call to check in.
‘Belle told me about the boyfriend tonight.’
‘I’m glad. Do you feel better about it now?’
Rory wasn’t sure whether she did or not. ‘Maybe. She hasn’t really told me very much yet. Apparently, she doesn’t want to jinx it.’
‘Well. You’d better get used to that. You never told me anything about your boyfriends when you were a teenager.’
This was partly why Rory was uneasy. She could remember distinctly why she’d never told her parents about her boyfriends, and it wasn’t a good thing.
‘She also mentioned that you’d had a conversation with her about me meeting someone. Thanks for that.’
Sheila tutted. ‘Oh, don’t be so sensitive. Belle is a romantic; she wants to see you happy. I want to see you happy.’
‘I am happy.’ Rory didn’t consider whether this was actually true or not. ‘Anyway, it’s not just the two of you on at me. Susie and Penny are coming round tomorrow night and I think I’m going to get the same from them.’
‘I like that Susie. She’s got a lot of get up and go. Penny could do with a bit of backbone. You should tell them to try the singles classifieds. Barb came round last night and she’d cut some of them out of the paper. The things these people ask for!’
‘Really?’ Rory had never read a singles ad, but she assumed they would be tame. Companions for long country walks and a penchant for log fires and argyle sweaters, that kind of thing.
‘You would be amazed. It’s not the women, obviously. The women looking for men are generally realistic, some are even a little pessimistic. One had actually written “No time wasters” like she was selling a used car. But the men! Oh my word! Almost all of them are looking for women fifteen years younger than they are. They even have specific requirements about looks: slim, blonde, medium height. I bet they are short, fat and bald. There were a few who wrote that they wanted someone “active”. I assumed that meant they liked to play sports, but Barb says it’s about sex. Charming, eh?’
Rory could imagine the look on her mum’s face. ‘Maybe they were written by the estate agent for this house. He was rather creative with his descriptions.’
‘Exactly! And if you don’t understand what they mean, you could get yourself into no end of trouble. They even have letters after their names which are like a secret code. For example, GSOH means Good Sense of Humour. Barb thinks we should put an ad in and see what happens.’
‘Maybe you should, Mum. Might be a laugh.’
Sheila snorted. ‘What would I write, for goodness sake? Grandmother of one, sixty-five, looking to meet a tea-drinking, newspaper-reading, quiet man in his sixties.’ She thought for a moment. ‘AMOT.’
This was a new one on Rory. ‘What’s AMOT?’
‘All My Own Teeth.’
* * *
Rory peeped in the door at Belle before she went to bed. Her daughter had fallen asleep with her phone in her hand and it took every ounce of Rory’s self-control not to tap in her code and look at her messages. Belle could be trusted. Of course she could. Rory would make time this week for them to sit down and have a proper conversation about this boy. Belle was a clever girl, but she was naïve; Rory didn’t want her to get hurt.
One person who wouldn’t wait much longer for a boyfriend conversation was Susie. Rory was already regretting agreeing to a get-together tomorrow night. With the house, school and everything going on with Belle, she had so much to think about. The last thing she needed was one of Susie’s ‘Find a Man’ schemes.
Chapter Nine
The next evening, Susie arrived at Rory’s front door with two bottles of red wine. Which was good. And a large brightly-coloured book. Which was bad.
‘We need a plan.’
‘Can’t we just have a chat and see how the evening goes?’ Rory shut the front door – which closed smoothly thanks to John’s work with the plane – and spoke to Susie’s determined wiggle as it disappeared into the lounge.
‘Not a plan for tonight. A plan for finding husbands. Hello, Pen.’
Penny gave a little wave from the sofa. ‘Where are we going to look for them?’
Susie sat down on the edge of an armchair, her blonde curls straining to escape from their hair band, and she smiled as if she was about to sell them a time share. ‘That’s the beauty of “The Law of Attraction”. We don’t need to go and look; they will come to us.’ She employed the tone of a yoga master.
Rory put three wine glasses on the table and groaned. ‘Is this from another of your books?’ Susie had a minor addiction to the self-help section of the local bookshop. In the last eighteen months, she had tried to become a goddess, make friends with fear, and feed her inner child (who seemed to seriously like cake). If she was branching out into the relationship section, they were all doomed.
Penny, ever the supportive friend, was nodding her head slowly. ‘If you build it, they will come. I think I saw a film about that once.’
‘I am not building a baseball pitch in my back garden.’ Rory poured them all a large glass of Susie’s wine. ‘The neighbours already hate me for using the electric sander after nine p.m.’
Susie was not to be put off. She laid her book down onto the coffee table dramatically, as if it were a religious artefact. Rory looked at the title. ‘Attracting Your Perfect Mate,’ she read aloud. ‘Are you going to have us paint our bums red and flash them at passing males?’
Penny giggled and wrapped her arms around her cream polo-neck sweater. ‘Can I just wear red cycling shorts? I get a bit chilly.’
‘The Law of Attraction,’ Susie continued, as if she hadn’t heard them, ‘tells us that we have to visualise what we want and then it will come to us. We just need to focus.’ She pointed a red fingernail at each of them decisively. ‘So that is what we are going to do. Visualise the man we would like to marry.’
Rory sighed. She’d learned from experience that it was easier to give in to Susie when she was in this mood. ‘Okay, how long will it take? I was hoping we could order in some Chinese food.’ She gave Susie a mock-serious face. ‘I’ve been visualising it all day.’
‘Very funny. Right, both of you put your wine down on the table.’ Penny and Rory both took a big gulp before doing as they were told. ‘Now, close your eyes.’
Rory kept one eye open. ‘Is this when you take our valuables and do a runner?’
‘Sshh!’ Susie had both eyes firmly closed. ‘You are ruining my concentration. Now, both of you, start to think about the kind of life partner you would like to have. What will he look like? What job will he do? Where will he live?’ They heard a rustling as she consulted the book on the coffee table. ‘What will his life goals be?’
‘I’m visualising George Clooney,’ Penny whispered. ‘What about you, Rory?’
Rory opened one eye and looked at her. ‘I’m visualising someone putting the bins out and then knocking up a spag bol.’ They both collapsed into laughter.
Susie was not amused. ‘You need to take this seriously. Stop laughing. Just stop.’ She sighed. ‘Open your eyes. You’re clearly not ready for the visualising part. Let’s make a list instead. Have you got pens and paper, Rory? We need thre
e sets.’
Dutifully, Rory disappeared, and returned with a notepad and three pens. Susie tore off a sheet for each of them.
‘Okay, we need to write a list.’
‘This is very low-tech for you, isn’t it? Don’t you have Excel spreadsheets for this kind of thing in the IT department?’
‘Don’t talk to me about spreadsheets.’ Penny slumped back into the sofa. ‘Nathan Finch has been on to me this week about them. He says he is concerned about the “validity of my data”.’
Rory put down her pen and paper. ‘What does that even mean? Susie – translate.’
‘It means he thinks she is making it up.’
‘But I don’t! I slave for hours over those things because I don’t know the first thing about spreadsheets. I have to ask Colin in the library to help me with them.’
This time Susie put down her paper. ‘Oh, really? So that’s what you two whisper about over his desk.’
Penny frowned. ‘Yes. We have to whisper. It’s the library.’
Rory smiled. ‘I think Little Miss Matchmaker here is suggesting that there might be something more interesting than spreadsheets going on between the two of you.’
‘Yes, I am.’ Susie tapped her nose with the pen. ‘Maybe there are some other sheets the two of you might be interested in exploring together?’
Penny’s eyes bulged. ‘No, no, no! We are just friends.’
‘He’s too old for Penny, anyway.’ Rory would have guessed Colin was mid-fifties; Penny was a decade younger.
‘It’s not that. I don’t mind an older man, actually. But I’ve known Colin for years. And anyway, he’s… I’ve known him for years.’
Susie crossed her arms. ‘Methinks the lady doth protest too much.’
Rory shook her head. ‘You stick to the IT; I’ll do the Shakespeare quotes. Come on, what are we doing with these lists? I’m getting hungry.’
Susie picked up the notepad. ‘So. We have to make a list of the ten qualities we most want in a life partner.’ She pointed her pen at Rory. ‘And if you put spag bol or bins on that list, I am going to make you write it out a hundred times.’
‘You’re not allowed to give lines any more.’ Rory waved her own pen back at her. ‘It’s not a learning experience.’
Penny had already started her list. ‘I’m going to put kind at the top.’
‘Kind?’ Susie pretended to be sick. ‘That sounds a bit boring.’
‘Actually, I think kindness is very underrated.’ Penny continued to write.
‘And it is her list,’ Rory pointed out. ‘What are you going to put on yours?’
‘Well…’ Susie flourished her pen as if she were a playwright about to commit to paper her magnum opus. ‘Number one: strong arms.’
Rory choked on her mouthful of red wine. ‘We’re keeping it to the important things then?’
Susie looked affronted. ‘That is important. I like a man who is physically strong. I want to feel protected.’
Rory put her hands up to her face. ‘How on earth are we friends? Every time we talk about men – pretty much all the time at the moment – you take me back fifty years.’
Susie wasn’t going to be put off. ‘Number two: intelligence. Is that better?’
‘That you don’t want someone stupid? Uh, a little.’ Rory looked to Penny for back-up.
Penny smoothed down her skirt and tried to help. ‘Have you got anything in there which is to do with being a nice person?’
Susie looked like she’d smelled something bad. ‘Nice?’
Rory opened her mouth but was interrupted by a knock on the front door. That was a surprise. No one arrived unannounced these days.
‘Hi, hope I’m not interrupting anything?’ John was wearing his work clothes – Rory needed to stop picturing him in that imaginary B&Q calendar – and was carrying something long and red on his shoulder.
‘Er, no. It’s fine.’ There was no way Rory was going to invite him in. Susie might eat him alive, and there was already a shortage of builders in the area. What was he carrying? It had a gold fringe.
‘I know you haven’t got back to me yet about doing some work, but I saw some old friends earlier and they were getting rid of this rug. I thought it might do you a turn until you sort out the flooring in your sitting room?’ John scratched the top of his head and moved from foot to foot. ‘You don’t have to have it if you don’t want it.’
This was really kind of him. She couldn’t just leave him out on the doorstep now. ‘Thanks. Come in.’
Rory had a brief internal debate as to whether she should run on ahead and warn her friends – well, Susie – to behave themselves, but John was already strolling in front of her into the sitting room. He stopped short when he saw she had guests. Susie’s eyes nearly popped out of her head.
‘Sorry to interrupt your evening. I’m just dropping this off.’ He knelt in the middle of the room and unrolled the rug. It was Persian and had probably been expensive when it was new. It wouldn’t have been Rory’s first choice, but she had torn up the rotten paisley carpet in the frenzy of her first week here, and it was a lot better than the bare floorboards which were still awaiting repair and varnish.
As John pushed out the corners of the rug to make it flat, Susie was mouthing over the top of his head and pointing at him: ‘Who is that?’
‘Susie. Penny. This is John. He might be doing some work on the house.’
Susie’s next gesture bordered on obscene. She really needed to rein it in. Rory tried to avoid looking at her altogether. ‘Thanks for that, John. It looks great.’
John sat back on his haunches. ‘Yes. Not bad. It’ll do you for now, will it?’
‘Yes, thanks. It’s fine I’ll…’ Rory stepped onto the rug just as John was moving it to straighten it. Her legs went from under her and she tripped backwards, caught by the armchair.
‘You nearly sent her flying!’ Susie’s expression was less concern for Rory’s fall and more admiration at John’s strength.
John jumped up. ‘Sorry, Rory! This floor is so slippery. Are you all right?’
It really hurt, but she didn’t want to make him feel bad. ‘I’m fine. Honestly. Always wanted a ride on a flying carpet.’
John was leaning over her in the chair. He looked really concerned. Then he righted himself and ran his hand across his head. ‘I’ve got some anti-slip webbing in the van. I’ll go and get some before it causes a real accident.’
The minute the front door closed, Susie jumped up and looked out the window. ‘Who the hell is that?’
Rory was taking the opportunity of John’s absence to rub her bottom. She had landed with a real bump. ‘I’ve told you, that’s John Prince. The builder I met in B&Q.’
‘Yes, but you didn’t tell us he looked like that. I assumed he was some old guy with his bottom hanging out of his trousers.’
Rory’s elbow hurt too. She’d whacked it on the arm of the chair. ‘Like what? Why would I tell you what he looked like?’ Especially when she had been doing her best not to notice what he looked like from the first time they’d spoken.
Susie turned and wagged a finger at her. ‘You’ve been trying to keep him to yourself, haven’t you? No wonder you’ve been less than interested in any of my dating ideas. You’ve already got your sights set on…’
‘I’ve only got a bit of this left, but…’ John was speaking as he walked back into the room, but trailed off as he realised that all three women were looking at him. ‘What?’
‘Nothing, John. Thanks. I’ll take that and do it later.’ Rory was mortified. Had he heard what Susie was saying? ‘I’m really grateful for the rug, but we need to get back to our school work now.’
John glanced at the notepads and pens. It would be believable that they were working – so long as he didn’t read the lists.
‘Of course. I’m sorry again about the… carpet and the… flying. The sending you flying.’
Rory stood up. ‘Honestly, I’m fine.’ She almost herded him
out of the door as he raised his hand in a short wave towards the other two.
After she closed the door, she took a deep breath before subjecting herself to Susie’s third degree. She was not interested in John romantically. But she didn’t want Susie to be, either.
Chapter Ten
The kitchen showroom was busy that Sunday afternoon. Sleek white and modern? Traditional wood? Sparkling granite? Rory had no idea which kind of kitchen she wanted. She’d be fitting it herself, so ‘easy to install’ was top of her list.
Sheila had insisted that she came shopping with her. ‘I don’t want you just choosing the cheapest option; I know what you’re like. I gave you that money so that you can make the place nice for you and Belle.’
‘I’m not even sure I need a new kitchen. Maybe just an oven and a new sink would do.’ The cost of these kitchens was eye-watering.
‘That’s what I mean. I don’t want you to make do. I want you to have a nice home.’ Sheila held up her finger. ‘Plus, I do not want to have any more dinners out of cardboard boxes at your house, thank you very much. Now, which one do you like?’
Rory looked around her. ‘I honestly don’t know.’
Sheila prodded her in the back. ‘Well, try one of them on.’
‘Pardon?’
‘Have a go in one. See how it feels.’ She pushed Rory firmly towards a mahogany ensemble. Corsica, according to the plastic display board. ‘Go on.’
Rory stood helplessly in front of the oven. ‘What do you want me to do?’
Sheila waved her arm around. ‘Open the oven. Pretend you’re looking at a roast chicken.’
This was ridiculous. But Rory opened the oven and peered inside. ‘Is this method acting? Because I really need time to get into character. Channel my inner housewife.’
Sheila shook her head. ‘No. That isn’t you. Too old-fashioned. Try the white one over there.’ She frowned as Rory ambled over to it. ‘Don’t just stand there. Stick your hands into the sink. Pretend you’re washing up.’
Happily Never After_A laugh-out-loud romantic comedy Page 6