If We're Not Married by Thirty

by Anna Bell

  ‘As long as I will get to see some tearooms whilst I’m here, I’ll be happy.’

  ‘Of course. Your wish is my command,’ he says, a little cheesily, as we pull up into a car park. ‘Now don’t eat anything too huge as I’ve got a big dinner planned.’

  ‘OK, but I feel as if I could eat a horse after that. I definitely worked up an appetite.’

  ‘Me too,’ says Danny as we get out of the car.

  We manage to get seated in the busy tearoom in the corner by a window which is steamed up with condensation.

  ‘This is cute,’ I say picking up the menu and instantly deciding on the chilli con carne jacket potato. I need something warming after this morning.

  ‘Yeah, I’ve not been here before, but Victoria raves about it.’

  Instantly I tense at her name. She and Ross are the only two people who aren’t happy about our wedding and at least I can make sense of why Ross is so against it.

  ‘How is Victoria? Still complicated?’

  Danny nods. ‘At the moment, yes. But Gaz wants us to go over and see him tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh, that’ll be something to look forward to,’ I say, trying not to sound sarcastic. ‘I liked him when I met him before.’

  I think of that brief time in London, the time that I overheard Danny telling him he didn’t want me. It’s funny to think that Gaz is possibly the reason that we didn’t get together all those years ago.

  ‘Yes, he’s looking forward to meeting you properly too. So what are you going for?’

  ‘Jacket potato with chilli.’

  He looks around at what other people are eating.

  The waitress walks up to take our order.

  ‘So what would you recommend?’ asks Danny. ‘What’s your best seller?’

  The young waitress looks a bit dumbfounded by the question and she fluffs a bit as if she doesn’t want to give the wrong answer.

  ‘I guess our winter-warmer soup is the most popular this time of year. It’s got pasta and winter veg and it comes with crusty bed.’

  ‘Great. Is that what that is?’ he says pointing to the next table.

  She looks over and nods.

  ‘Then that’s perfect,’ he says again, as I order my jacket potato.

  ‘Is that what you always do?’ I ask, realising that I know so much about Danny but in some ways I know so little.

  ‘If I’m somewhere new, then yes. It’s the best way. I learnt to do it in New York when this woman walked straight up to me when I was eating in a restaurant and asked me what I had and if it was any good. As I’m all reserved and British, I was a bit embarrassed at first, but actually it makes sense. If something’s popular, then that’s usually a good sign. Most of the time it works out OK.’

  ‘Perhaps I’ll have to try it. So, what are we doing for dinner tonight, then?’

  ‘Well, like the rest of today, that’s a surprise too.’

  I smile. This whole day is giving me the same rumbles in my belly of anticipation and excitement that I used to get when I received one of his packages.

  *

  Our afternoon also involved swimsuits, but it couldn’t have been further from our morning. Danny took me to a hotel not far from him, where we spent the afternoon in the spa, hanging out in a heated pool and hopping between the sauna and the Jacuzzi. We even sat in fluffy towelling robes eating scones.

  But now it’s time for dinner, and Danny is apparently cooking for me.

  ‘So, I hope you’re prepared to be sous-chef,’ says Danny as he flattens a printed recipe out on the sideboard and starts emptying his cupboards of ingredients.

  ‘Um, if it’s chopping onions, I’m your girl, but to be honest, I don’t know how to do much else. I’m a hopeless cook. Good job you know what you’re doing.’

  Danny slams the door of his saucepan cupboard shut as he stands up with a wok in his hands.

  ‘You can’t cook either?’ he says, a look of horror on his face.

  ‘What do you mean either? Your cupboards are full of ingredients.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I buy them every time I cook something and am always left with loads of things I never use again. I usually eat ready meals from Booths. What do you eat?’

  ‘When I lived with Ross, he cooked and nowadays I mostly eat leftovers, which Jim brings down and leaves in my fridge whilst I’m at work. He thinks the kitchen is too small for me to cook in, so he takes pity on me and feeds me. Why can’t you cook?’

  ‘I never had the time when I was a banker. I always ate on the run and when I moved here I guess I never learnt.’

  We look down at all the herbs and spices on the counter assembled and ready for him to make a Thai curry and suddenly they look a bit scary.

  ‘Shit, we’re going to starve when we get married,’ I say.

  ‘We’ve always got Booths. It’s a bit like the northern version of Waitrose,’ he says.

  ‘That doesn’t help us tonight, though, does it?’

  ‘We could always get a takeaway,’ he says wincing.

  ‘No, come on,’ I say, picking up the piece of paper. ‘How hard can this be?’

  I roll up my sleeves and Danny does the same. We’re two professional, degree-educated people. Surely we can follow a recipe.

  We try our best to follow the instructions and after a fraught thirty minutes over a hot stove comes the moment of truth.

  ‘You taste it,’ I say, scooping a little bit of sauce onto my spoon and offering it up to him.

  ‘Ladies first,’ he says, pushing it back to me.

  We both stare at the spoon. It smells bloody awful. To be fair to us, we did nearly everything right; it’s just not my fault that the fish sauce came out rather too quickly and we may have used at least triple the amount. And it totally wasn’t Danny’s fault that he didn’t know that TSP stood for teaspoon rather than tablespoon. I’m sure it won’t make that much difference to how much chilli he put in, right?

  I decide to be brave and eat a spoonful. It tastes all right initially. ‘That’s good,’ I say.

  ‘Really?’ he says, taking the spoon and going in for the taste. But all of a sudden my mouth starts to burn, like really burn.

  I stumble over to the fridge and pull out a pint of milk and drink straight out of the bottle.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I say. ‘That’s bloody hot.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ he says fanning his mouth before grabbing the milk and finishing it off. ‘That’s so gross.’

  ‘Agreed.’

  ‘Inedible.’

  ‘Probably salvageable, if we knew how.’

  ‘But we don’t,’ says Danny and I nod.

  ‘We’re going to starve,’ I say sighing. ‘At least one of us should be able to cook.’

  What if this is proof that we’re not meant to be together? I start to feel a bit dizzy.

  ‘Look, we’ll take cooking lessons,’ says Danny wrapping his arms around me. ‘It’s no big deal. We can’t be the only people in their thirties who can’t cook. Don’t take this as some sort of cosmic sign.’

  That man knows me too well.

  ‘We’ll do one of those subscription services where they send you all the food or we’ll go to one of the hotels and do a residential cooking course. We could even cook along with one of those YouTubers.’

  ‘Oh God, I tried that once, they never give you enough time and then your iPad gets smeary from all the times you put your dirty fingers on it to press pause.’

  I’m starting to feel a little teary and I don’t think it’s anything to do with the fact that we can’t cook but more that there’s so much that’s so unknown between us.

  ‘Hey, Lydia, come on, it’s no big deal. Grab your coat. Let’s head out and get a takeaway.’

  ‘But doesn’t this worry you?’

  ‘What, that you’re not a natural Nigella?’

  ‘No, that we didn’t know this about each other. I’ve known you for as long as I can remember and I’ve been writing to you all my adult life a
nd I had no clue that you can’t cook. It just scares me a little that we’re going to get married and we don’t know everything about each other.’

  Danny’s scrunching his eyes up as if he’s trying to work out where this has come from.

  ‘Of course we’re not going to know everything about each other. You won’t know, for example, that I once ate raw squid and it made me vomit on my boss’s shoes and you won’t know that I once had to go down to a hotel lobby naked as I got lost looking for the bathroom and locked myself out of my room in the middle of the night.’

  I splutter with laughter.

  ‘And I’m sure there are loads of things that I don’t know about you.’

  My heart sinks, thinking about how true that is, mainly as I still haven’t been honest with him.

  ‘But I know the important things. I know that you’re kind and that you think of everyone else before you think of yourself. I know that you’re always scared to try new things but when you do, you embrace whatever it is and you give it your all – like today. I knew you’d be terrified of the ghyll scrambling, but that you’d plunge yourself into that freezing water anyway. I know that you worry that your mum’s nuts and that you’re going to turn into her. And, most importantly, I know that I’m constantly surprised by you. And love that I’m going to be constantly surprised by you for as long as I live.’

  A full-on tear runs down my face.

  ‘You’re pretty good with words, Danny Whittaker.’

  ‘Thanks, aside from cooking I’m pretty good at a lot of things. And in the months and years you’ll get to know what they are.’

  I dry my tears and smile at him.

  ‘Don’t be scared,’ he says. ‘Or, if you are, remember just to give it your all.’

  I nod. He knows me almost better than I know myself and as I lean into him I think that he’s right. I might be scared but I’m going to give it my all anyway. It could be the key to me actually #LivingMyBestLife. Not to mention that the thought of not being with him is far scarier.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  What is this madness that we’re now living in the same country. It seems a little surreal, especially that you’ve bought a house, in Cumbira. It’s the last place I’d ever imagined you’d settle down. But congratulations on your move! Maybe I’ll have to get in the car and drive up and see you sometime, especially as I know your mum will keep you well stocked in shortbread. Hope the business with Gaz is working out well and you like the housewarming present!

  Parcel containing cleaning products;

  Lydia to Danny, August 2017

  Danny parks the car and turns to smile at me.

  ‘Why do you look so nervous?’ he says as he pulls the keys out of the ignition and takes off his seatbelt.

  ‘I’m not nervous,’ I say, in a tone of voice that suggests otherwise.

  Danny raises his eyebrow.

  ‘OK, so Victoria and I didn’t get off to the best start and she and Gaz are your best friends. I just want them to like me.’

  ‘Of course they’re going to like you,’ he says, patting my thigh as if to reassure me. ‘Just relax. This is going to be a fun lunch, OK?’

  ‘OK,’ I say taking a deep breath. It’s just lunch, I can do this. ‘You’re right. And it’s not going to be as awkward as when you met Lucy and Ed.’

  I think back to the curry night and realise that even the nicest of people can have off days.

  ‘Yes, there definitely won’t be that kind of tension in the air.’

  We get out of the car and Danny takes my hand as we walk up to the front door but Gaz opens it before we get there.

  ‘Hello, hello,’ he says, as he ushers us inside. ‘Lydia, it’s lovely to see you again.’

  He leans over and wraps me up in a bear hug as if we’re long-lost friends. I’d tensed all my muscles ready to see Victoria again, but this hug makes me relax them slowly.

  ‘It’s nice to see you too,’ I say offering a bottle of wine. ‘Thanks for having us over.’

  ‘No, thank you for coming,’ he says. ‘We couldn’t wait to get to know you properly. By the way, congratulations! I cannot believe you’re actually making this man settle down.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I say.

  ‘He’s just pleased as he’s finally getting rid of the third wheel,’ says Danny, as he slips off his coat and hangs it on a hook.

  ‘I’ve been trying for years,’ says Gaz, taking my coat for me.

  ‘Or maybe you’ve gained a fourth wheel,’ says Danny.

  I really can’t imagine that after the other day, but I smile. I really hope that Victoria was having a bad day when we met and that we can all be BFFs. It would make it a lot less scary moving up here and away from all my friends.

  ‘I certainly hope so,’ says Gaz, with a wide smile as he opens his arm to usher me into the adjacent room.

  I walk into one of the most beautiful lounges that I’ve ever seen in real life. It’s like stepping into a photoshoot for a glossy home mag. There are delicate cream sofas and plump red velvet cushions in the centre with dark wood furniture lining the walls. My eyes are drawn to the tall thin bookshelf in the corner full of terribly serious-looking books with not a lot of colour on the spines and an ornate mirror hanging over the period fireplace. It’s not cosy like Danny’s, but what it lacks in comfort it makes up for in taste.

  ‘What can I get you both to drink? Wine, aperitif?’ asks Gaz, almost theatrically playing the host. He’s rocking a little bit and I get the impression that he started drinking without us. He goes through to the dining room and picks up an already open bottle of wine.

  ‘Actually, I’m not drinking,’ I say. ‘I’ve got to drive home tonight.’

  ‘And I drove us over so I’m not drinking,’ says Danny.

  ‘And Victoria’s not drinking,’ says Gaz. ‘So I guess that’s all the more for me, then.’

  He pours himself a glass, which is mainly the dregs as he drains the bottle.

  I look over at Danny, wondering if this is normal behaviour, but I’m guessing from the way he’s staring, open mouthed, that it’s not.

  ‘Where’s Victoria? Ah, speak of the devil.’

  She walks into the room and despite the smells wafting from the kitchen, which seem to indicate that she’s preparing a culinary feast, she’s dressed immaculately again. Not like on the rare occasions when I attempt to cook and I get half the ingredients down my clothes and in my hair. She, however, is dressed in a sparkly cowl-neck maternity dress and tights with neat little pointy boots. I feel positively underdressed in my jeans and baggy jumper.

  ‘Dan,’ she says, a warm smile falling over her face as she gives him a kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Look at you and that bump,’ he says, rubbing his hand over it as if he’s expecting a genie to appear. ‘You look radiant.’

  ‘That’s the sweat from cooking,’ she almost purrs back at him and laughs. ‘And Lydia, hello again.’

  She’s still smiling but I can almost see the strain in her muscles. It’s not natural, like when she saw Danny.

  ‘Has Gaz offered you drinks? Or has he just been helping himself?’ There’s a coolness to her voice, but that’s nothing compared to the look Gaz has just given her. So much for no tension.

  ‘He has, and we’re not drinking. We’re both driving.’

  ‘Ah, join the club. I’ll make us a pitcher of elderflower cordial.’

  ‘Do you need any help? It all smells delicious,’ I ask.

  ‘Thank you, it’s only beef,’ she says, waving her hand dismissively as if that means it’s less work. ‘It’s all under control. You stay here and talk to Gaz.’

  She retreats back to the kitchen, and Gaz stares after her.

  For a moment none of us says anything. Then Gaz plants his host-with-the-most smile back on his face.

  ‘So, Lydia,’ says Gaz as he sits down on the sofa, ‘are you all ready for the big move?’

  I sit down opposite and practically bounce up again off the
rock-hard couch.

  ‘More or less,’ I say, not wanting to think too much about it. ‘I can’t wait to be up here with Danny all the time.’

  ‘Lov-e-ly. Lov-e-ly.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ says Danny as he folds his arms over his chest. ‘Why have you necked the best part of a bottle of wine before lunch?’

  The smile falls from Gaz’s face. ‘Just fancied a drink, that’s all. There’s no crime in that, is there?’

  ‘No, but you wouldn’t usually.’

  Gaz folds his arms defensively.

  For a minute or two we stay silent and I’m contemplating how unlucky we are to have found ourselves again in the middle of another couple’s dramas.

  ‘Do you think Victoria’s acting strangely?’ he asks suddenly, as if it’s just occurred to him.

  ‘I think you’re acting a little strangely,’ says Danny diplomatically.

  I want to add that I think she is, but then she was the last time I met her too, and I’m worried that’s what she’s like all the time.

  Gaz sighs and Danny sits down on the sofa beside him.

  ‘How is she acting?’

  ‘Shifty. She always seems to be lost in her own thoughts and when I ask her what’s up she snaps at me.’

  ‘It’s probably just pregnancy hormones. My sister was a right nightmare when she was pregnant,’ I say.

  He starts to sniff and I realise that he’s got a tear in his eye. He’s gone pale and he’s ever so slightly shaking and I don’t think it’s got anything to do with the wine.

  ‘Are you OK?’ I ask, wishing I could sneak off to the kitchen to help Victoria.

  He blinks rapidly as if he’s trying to blink away the tears. ‘I’m fine,’ he says a little squeakily. ‘I’m fine,’ he says again, a bit too gruff this time. And then he coughs and tries a third time, ‘I’m fine.’

  None of them convince me that he is.

  He groans and looks up at the door as if he’s worried that Victoria’s going to come bursting through at any second.

  ‘I think she’s having an affair,’ he says quietly. ‘And I’m wondering if it’s even my baby.’

  Shit. This is deep. I look over at Danny for reassurance as to whether I stay or go but he’s looking down at Gaz’s feet.