I cocked my head. ‘Did we need to clarify that? Sorry, I’m obviously out of the dating etiquette loop. I just assumed that when you begin a relationship, you don’t start seeing someone else!’
‘Oh my God!’ his kissing partner shouted. Tim started floundering and I let out a loud laugh, covering my mouth to stop myself. A snort flew out through my fingers in typical Stacey fashion.
‘You’re timing is crap. I have tickets to see Hamilton tonight.’ I took them out of my bag and wafted them in front of him. ‘Do you know how hard it is to get these? I almost had to mount the box office assistant. Jesus! Wasted on you! Who the bloody hell will I go with now?’
‘Is that all you’re bothered about?’ Tim asked, his eyes narrowed in question.
I had to think for a second. Just one, mind you. ‘Yeah.’
The truth was, I was mostly disappointed I was back on the endless cycle of trying to find a partner of the opposite sex who I actually liked. Heck, I was exhausted. Dating in the twentieth century was tiring. I’d had my fill of mediocre relationships, dates that didn’t make it to a second, online creeps that were only after one thing. I’d experienced it all, believe me, and wowsers, I was done.
I looked behind Tim to his kissing partner, who was frosty as anything. Arms crossed and a scowl, all directed at the back of Tim’s head. Poor woman. I felt sorry for her. ‘Would you like to come? Make a night of it?’ I lifted the tickets. ‘I could tell you all about his bad habits. Number one: cheating.’
She chuckled a little and Tim threw down his leather driving gloves. Ick. What did I see in him?
‘Stace, let’s just end it here, shall we. I’m very sorry and all that. Yada, yada,’ he said, circling his hands to help speed up his words. ‘I should have told you before, I didn’t. Never mind. I’ve been seeing Penny and I find that she’s actually more on my wavelength, more like me. Compatible in background and our…mutual life destination.’
Penny’s scowl deepened. She was absolutely livid. ‘More like you? What’s that supposed to mean?’
I half-wondered why I hadn’t asked that question myself. Another snort escaped my mouth again. I couldn’t help it and Tim rolled his eyes like a good’un.
‘And Penny doesn’t resort to snorting when a civilised laughing noise would suffice.’
I gasped, mouth hanging open in total shock at the nerve of this guy. ‘Don’t mug me off, Tim!’ I shouted, still with a hint of exasperated laughter brightening the tone.
‘I’m doing the right thing,’ he said, completely ignoring Penny’s death stare. ‘We’re done. It’s over.’
I snorted again. Actually snorted again, throwing my head back and holding my side. ‘How noble of you,’ I replied. ‘To be honest with me after I found out. Done? Did we even get started? What was I thinking! I can’t. I really can’t with this.’
I tried to stop the laughter this unbelievable situation was encouraging. I couldn’t, though. It just kept getting better. ‘Done? I haven’t seen you in over a week. You texted me once. Once! To tell me you were getting your ingrown toenail sorted. Wait…’ I turned to him, puzzled and weary. ‘Was that even true or was it a smokescreen to see the lovely Penny over there?’
‘It was true,’ he replied. ‘Still smarts a bit.’
‘Good!’ Penny and I shouted simultaneously.
We’d drawn quite a crowd now. A woman walking past stared at Tim like he’d just snatched her handbag. He did an uncomfortable shoulder roll and she couldn’t help herself. ‘You’re better off without him, love!’
‘Did you hear that?’ We fist bumped. ‘Solidarity.’
‘What a waster!’ she shouted again before stopping at Penny as she held up a finger. ‘You can roll a turd in diamonds, sweetheart, but it will always be a turd.’
‘Yes!’ I laughed. ‘I honestly don’t know what I was doing,’ I said. ‘Momentary brain lapse.’
‘Bloody hell, we were hardly love’s young dream,’ Tim said. ‘Why are you getting so upset?’
‘I’ll tell you why.’ I shoved my umbrella under my armpit and set my hands on my hips. ‘Because I’m officially back on the dating scene.’ I closed my eyes and mouthed, Can’t believe it, to the sky. ‘And that is the most depressing thing about all of this.’
‘Oh,’ he said, laughing through his nose. ‘I’m glad I meant so much to you, Stace.’ He put his finger to his mouth. ‘At Anna’s party, I remember you telling me I was the love of your life.’
‘We’d only just met! I’d had five Jager Bombs and a Bailey’s. It was right after I told my boss’ husband that his comb over hairstyle was very distinguished. Just before telling my best friend that it was a travesty that Mamma Mia! Here We Go Again wasn’t nominated for best picture at the Oscars. Meaning, I wasn’t talking sense, for Christ’s sake!’
‘Awful,’ the woman said, still hanging around. ‘Killing off Meryl did it for me. I was out of that cinema before the first bars of “Waterloo.”’
‘What are you doing!’ Tim shouted at the woman who had taken an active interest, jumping up and down like he was having a child’s tantrum. ‘Go away!’
That was it.
Something, or someone, had saved me from a life of mediocre…again.
Perhaps it was voodoo or my Nana acting as a guardian angel?
Whatever it was, my time was up.
I was ready to walk away while I still had a shred of pride.
‘Tim,’ I said, placing my hands on his arms. ‘You need to reassess your values because…you don’t appear to have any.’ I poked my head around him to the still scowling blonde. ‘It was nice to meet you, Penny. Sorry you got caught up in’—I flicked my finger between Tim and I—‘all of this.’
‘Wait. Where are you going?’ she asked. ‘That Hamilton ticket has my name all over it. You can’t take back the offer now.’
‘What?’ Tim stuttered.
‘Bye-bye, loser,’ Penny said as she wiggled her fingers gracefully. She was manicured and badass.
‘You’re not really going with her, are you?’ he asked, his screwed-up face showing his distaste.
‘I know this is totally random,’ she said joining me at the bottom of the steps. ‘But I’ve been trying to get a ticket for weeks.’
‘It is a bit random,’ I agreed. ‘But I don’t like regrets, Penny, and I think I’d go home wishing I’d gone to see Hamilton with…a complete stranger.’
She laughed and linked her arm in mine, and I found myself smiling because, for a few hours, I could be taken away by laughter, mouth the lyrics to ‘Satisfied’ like I could identify with every word and reenact it with feeling and after, I could eat away my frustration with noodles and gyoza. Yes, I didn’t know anything about this woman. We had a flimsy link at best. I hoped she wasn’t a serial killer or a weird stalker but decided anyway that I needed a distraction before re-joining the abyss of the dating game and wondering where the fudge I would start.
‘That ticket is like gold dust. How much do I owe you?’ Penny asked.
‘Buy dinner and we’ll call it even.’
‘Hold on a sec,’ she said. ‘Tim?’ He looked completely confused by us, his girlfriend and mistress, arm in arm and on their way to see the hottest show in town. ‘I forgot something.’
‘What is it?’ he asked, perching his hands on his hips.
‘Hold on, let me look for it.’ Penny rooted around in her pocket, looking for something. She tipped her head in frustration, sticking out her tongue in concentration, until she pulled out her hand dramatically, held it up, and proceeded to give him the middle finger. ‘Ah…there it is.’
It was at this point I realised Penny could absolutely be a serial killer or weird stalker, her behaviour indicated that she could be slightly un-hinged too, but she also seemed…pretty bloody cool.
2
Stacey
‘This calls for a vegan brownie and a board game. Sit.’
I promptly sat down at a table on the word and blew out a breath.
Last night, I’d caught the last train back to Brighton, fell asleep as soon as my body hit my bed, and woke long after my best friend Skye had started her Saturday shift at the café, Turnip The Beet. She had just sold the business to start a new venture in mobile dog grooming. Contracts had been signed and an agreement made with the new owners, so that we could stay in the flat above the café. Skye would work some shifts until she’d built up her new business, taking over the world one pampered pooch at a time.
‘Why do you keep finding yourself in bizarre situations?’ Will, my other best friend, asked, totally perplexed. His brow furrowed. ‘It was only last month that you played the accordion at Donal and Fred’s wedding.’
‘What’s bizarre about that?’
‘Not only was it a surprise wedding, it was also a surprise announcement that, at the grand old age of eighty-three, they both declared themselves to be gay,’ he replied. ‘Seven sons and thirteen grandchildren between them didn’t see that coming.’
‘I thought it was beautiful. Meeting in the care home. Secretly falling in love and planning a wedding. So romantic.’ I’d met them both at Summerfield’s residential home. My grandmother had been a resident until she passed away last year, but I still played the accordion there every other Sunday afternoon. I was particularly touched when they confided in me and asked if I would play at their ceremony.
‘You did give a particularly wonderful rendition of “I’m Coming Out” by Diana Ross,’ Skye said as she placed a brownie and a fork in front of me. ‘Not a dry eye in the house.’
‘Cataracts will do that,’ Will deadpanned.
‘Are you going to let me speak?’
‘Yes,’ Skye replied, flicking Will on the back of the head. ‘But I’d like to put it out there first that I always knew Tim was a creep. He couldn’t look me in the eye…totally shifty.’
‘Forget Tim, tell me all about Penny. She’s single now, isn’t she?’ Will asked, pouring milk into his coffee.
My hand hovered over a Monopoly box, but I grabbed the less time-consuming Jenga instead. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t be here all afternoon. I had to wax my eyebrows and fit in grocery shopping if I wanted to eat something more substantial than a brownie today. ‘She most certainly is. Who’s for Jenga?’
‘Jenga. Again. Where are you off to?’ Will knew me too well.
‘I have very important plans. Now I’m single again, I need to get my life in order.’
‘First…tell me more about Penny.’
‘She’s a woman on a mission to make Tim’s life as difficult as possible.’
‘Serves him right,’ Skye replied as she cleared the next table.
‘They work together, so they’ll see each other every day, and she has plans to make his life hell.’
‘Oops,’ Will said. ‘He hadn’t thought that through, had he?’
‘I wouldn’t put it past her to do something highly ridiculous like…adding laxatives to his morning tea,’ I said.
‘On second thought, don’t set me up.’ Deadpan was Will’s style. Mine too.
‘What happened to Holly, anyway?’ I asked, barely able to keep up with Will’s love life. We met back at university and quickly became friends. Our sense of humour fitted together perfectly. We took the same classes, enjoyed the same nightlife, and soon, we found ourselves celebrating life events together. Graduation, first jobs, new homes.
Although we were inseparable, we never became romantically involved. Past boyfriends of mine found our relationship hard to make sense of. Past girlfriends of his saw me as a threat. We joked that we were bad for each other’s sex lives and future long-term happiness, but I’d never found anyone who was more important to me than losing my friendship with Will. He was working as a journalist for a photographic magazine in London, mixing his two passions flawlessly, but he would always make time for his friends and was on a flying Saturday visit to sample Skye’s new parsnip gnocchi.
‘Holly decided that we weren’t connecting emotionally.’
‘What did you do?’
‘Nothing!’
‘That was the problem,’ Skye said, sitting down and putting her feet up on the table.
I narrowed my eyes and Will sighed deeply. ‘She had a presentation at work, and I forgot to ask her how it went. She said she couldn’t have a relationship with someone who was emotionally constipated.’
‘Urgh. I’d hate to be called that. That’s the worst,’ I replied, scrunching my face together to really bring home my distaste.
‘Well, I should have cheated. Clearly that’s more acceptable.’ I threw a napkin at him as he laughed. ‘Look at us. Single again.’ He sighed. ‘Moving forward, what’s the plan? We could try Tinder again. I always enjoyed swapping notes on that nugget of weirdness. Or there’s always speed dating at the restaurant near the Pavilion.’
‘Oh, no. No.’ I held my head in my hands. ‘I can’t. No.’
‘Translate,’ Will asked Skye, who hid her chuckle behind her hand.
‘I’m staying single,’ I replied. ‘I need to find myself.’
‘If you don’t get back in the dating game, you’ll find yourself playing the accordion at weddings that are never yours.’
‘So? Does that really matter? Is that where the value of life is? You must get married and have babies to prove your existence is worth something,’ I said, pulling back my shoulders. ‘What about my career, the work I’m doing to raise the profile of disadvantaged groups in our society? Or what about the volunteering I do, or general passion for doing a little bit of good in the world?’
‘We’ve hit a nerve,’ Will said from behind his hand. ‘Bring more cake.’
‘Will!’ I shouted in frustration. ‘You are emotionally constipated.’
‘I’ve asked for more cake. That’s tuned in to your emotional needs, surely?’
‘My emotions need a break from people who have a complete disregard for everyone else,’ I replied, sensing I was having a lightbulb moment. I was confirming my status as a single woman. Independent and bloody rocking it. ‘As of this moment, I’m officially single and plan on staying that way for a while.’
‘Because of Tim?’ Skye asked. ‘Don’t let that idiot put you off dating.’
‘Honestly, it’s not just Tim.’ I thought for a second, raising my eyes to the ceiling for help. ‘It’s all the others before him too. I’m sure the shock of finding out he was living a double life hasn’t helped—’
‘That’s a bit strong, isn’t it? He wasn’t married with three adorable kids and a pony.’ Will smirked and I glared back.
‘Yes, but I had no idea he was seeing someone else.’ I picked up a cookie. ‘Not a clue. Blindsided. I could liken it to the betrayal of a biscuit.’
‘Here we go. Holy fuck. Send help,’ Will said. ‘It’s a Stacey analogy.’
‘Hear her out.’ Skye laughed. ‘She gets there in the end.’
‘Continue, wise one.’
‘Biscuits taste good, but’—I held one up to help drive home my point—‘they’re gone in two bites. Three, if you’re lucky. You look at the calorie content and wonder how the hell something so tiny could hide so many, all while tasting amazing. You’re drawn in, two bites, and reality hits. Biscuits aren’t good for you. They’re hiding things. I’d even go so far as to say they’re laughing at you behind your back.’
‘And that’s how Tim made you feel? Like the betrayal of a biscuit?’ Will asked, looking slightly alarmed.
‘Yes?’ I answered, a question to the tone.
‘Skye, I’d love another coffee. Add a splash of that Bailey’s you’ve got stashed in the cupboard above the sink. I’m going to need it.’
‘You are hilarious today,’ I said, devouring the brownie.
‘Can I say one thing without you getting defensive?’
‘Go ahead. I can’t wait to hear this, especially after you told me you liked the style of one boyfriend who dumped me because I was too caring of others and it limited my ability to ma
intain a healthy relationship.’
‘That was a joke…’
‘It wasn’t funny in the slightest,’ I replied, hiding my smile behind my teacup.
‘Anyway, can I be serious for a second?’
‘Waiting.’
‘You’ve always had crap relationships,’ Will said, ‘because, quite frankly, you don’t have time to put the work in.’
‘And if I admit that to you, I would out myself as a loser,’ I replied. ‘And I’m not going there.’
Will was right. I found it hard to admit I just didn’t have time for more than one date a week, with a few text messages thrown in to keep them interested. Work came first. Always had. Saving the world was another important sideline. Volunteering at the shelter, sing-alongs at the care home, and the odd shift at the café filled my weekends when I wasn’t working. I’d even been known to litter pick with the Pier 2 Pier beach cleaners after Brighton Pride and other big events.
Will continued, ‘Perhaps if you’d found someone you actually liked, you might be more willing to make room in your life for them.’
‘Possibly,’ I replied, pointing my brownie at him. I had dated losers. I’d also dated commitment-phobes, men who were unnaturally close to their sisters, fuck-boys, eternal bachelors, serial cheaters, men who couldn’t handle my relationship with Will, the list was endless. I’d been ghosted before I met Tim. It annoyed me that society had found a name for it, suggesting it was happening all the time, should be added to the dictionary, and was an acceptable way of ending a relationship.
‘Ghosted’ was way too nice a term, in my opinion. I wasn’t ghosted. I was fucked over, disrespected by someone who didn’t have the decency to tell me we were finished face-to-face. In all honesty, dating had left me feeling jaded, uninterested, and questioning if soul mates and happy, sparkly love really did exist.
Truthfully, the romantic side of me would love for a man to sweep me off my feet and fall so deeply in love with me they couldn’t find their way out again. I would be it for them. The biggest it. Their search would be over. Adoration, the name of the game. Full alpha male possessiveness would enter my life with a dollop of I-can’t-live-without-you awesomeness. That would be ideal, but reality and fantasy very rarely dined together. They didn’t even mix well as a cocktail.
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