“It’s from your Auntie Isobel.”
She looks at me and grins a ‘Donna’ smile, then rushes over and throws her arms round me. “I love it! I love it!”
Her parents appear from the kitchen. Mark walks over to Lola, kneels beside her and helps her remove the contents.
Ellen, however, stays in the doorway and seems less impressed. “That looks expensive, Isobel.”
“Don’t worry,” I say, “it was from a car boot sale. They’re great when you’re a bit strapped for cash.”
Mark looks at Dad, who shrugs, then at me. I nod and his gaze returns to the theatre.
It’s set up in no time and father and daughter are left to do a ‘dress rehearsal’, so we return to the kitchen, which is full of delicious smells.
“Dinner won’t be long,” Mum announces.
“Isobel’s bought Lola a theatre,” Ellen tells her.
“A lovely one,” Dad adds.
“A lucky car boot find,” I say. “Do we have time to watch their play before dinner?”
“They’ve got one prepared already?” Mum asks.
“Oh yes, Lola is quite the storyteller,” Ellen gushes.
“Of course. Let me turn this down.”
There’s a ‘Ready’ from the other room and we wander through.
We’re treated to a mini version of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, except in this adaptation there are only four dwarfs and they’re not particularly small.
A deservedly rapturous round of applause is given when the curtain closes and Lola curtsies while Mark bows.
“I’ll dish up,” Mum says, and Ellen and I follow her into the kitchen to help, leaving the men to congratulate Lola.
As I take the cutlery and glasses through on a tray to the dining room, the men are discussing finances.
“Dad, I wish you hadn’t said anything to Izzy.”
“She suspected. It was obvious there was a problem from the way you two were talking.”
“I’m going to sort it out.”
“Your mother and I can lend you some–”
“No thanks,” he says a little too swiftly. “Sorry, Dad, but it’s fine, really. We should never have bought the second H O R S E.”
I poke my head round the door and see Lola with a glove puppet on each hand; St George is arguing with the Prince about how best to slay the dragon, which is hiding between two cushions propped up at forty-five degree angles making a tent-like cave. The pink Princess is lying abandoned by the box. I suspect, like her, the horse is going to be a bit of a white elephant.
I return to the kitchen as Ellen and Mum bring through serving dishes.
“Can I help?” I ask.
“Do you want to get the plates?” Ellen suggests.
“Sure,” I say, and she smiles.
I fetch six warm dinner plates and serving spoons, by which time the men have joined the others. There’s no sign of Lola.
“Where is she?” Ellen asks.
“Still playing dungeons and dragons,” Mark replies.
“Shall I get her?” I offer.
“Yes, pl–” Mark starts to say, but Ellen cuts him off.
“Can you leave her for a minute. I’ve got some news.”
All eyes turn to her and I keep my fingers crossed that it’s good.
“Lola turns five in August, so I thought that when she goes to school in September, I’d go back to work.”
Mark looks as stunned as the rest of us. “Really?”
“Yes. I’ll have more time on my hands and…” She looks round the table. Mum and Mark look clueless, but Dad and I guess what she’s going to say. “We need the money.”
“You know?” Mark asks.
“I guessed by your reaction to Lola’s horse and the prospect of your new position.”
Mark’s about to speak, but she continues. “And we can sell the horse, or both of them. I don’t care about them. We’re not happy and we should be. I want to do something before it goes too far. You’re right. She’s not interested in the horse. I bought it so we’d have something to do together, but she’s happier playing dress-up and theatre…” She turns to face me. “Thanks, Izzy, by the way, for that. It’s lovely.”
And I think she means it.
“Is there anything I can do?” I ask. “I don’t have much money, but…”
“Thanks, sis, but we’ll be fine,” Mark says.
“Yes, thanks, Izzy,” Ellen adds. “That’s settled then. You turn down the promotion, we sell the horses and I go back to work.”
Mark goes to speak, but Ellen puts her palm up. “I want to see more of you, not less, and travelling with you would be too disruptive for Lola as she’s starting a new school. I could get a secretary job nearby or even at the school. If I’m honest, even being at home while Lola’s at nursery is driving me nuts. There are only so many times you can clean the house.”
I’m surprised. We all are. Their house is always spotless, but I don’t think we’d realised why.
“Okay…” Mark hesitates.
Lola charges in with the pink Princess on her right hand, and runs up to her mother.
“You’re going to have to take her off, poppet.”
Lola shakes her head.
“But how are you going to eat dinner with Princess on your eating hand?”
“Easy. I’ll eat with the other hand.”
“Can you do that?”
“Yes, Mummy.”
Ellen looks quizzically at me. I shrug, but smile at how I was wrong regarding the Princess, and we all watch Lola sit on her chair and tuck into her child-size chicken roast dinner with an expert left hand. Princess Annabel, as Lola introduces her, oversees the whole operation and is suitably impressed.
After dinner, we’re treated to another show. This time it’s a mixture of the Shrek films, where St George is Shrek (which makes sense as he was after the dragon in the first film), Snow White is the Queen, the Prince is the King, and the Princess and Dragon played themselves (except I think Lola’s dragon is male, but I don’t suppose he minds).
Again, Lola is magnificent, but it’s Mark who surprises me, and I think Ellen’s seeing him in a new light.
After much deserved applause, the theatre set is packed away. While Mark heads to the car with their belongings, Ellen fetches Lola’s coat then returns to the dining room.
“Time to go home, missy.”
“Please, can we staaaaay.”
“Sorry, but Daddy has work tomorrow and he’s got a big meeting with Uncle Roger, so he has to get lots of sleep.”
I’ve met Mark’s boss, and turning down the promotion isn’t going to be taken well, but I can see why he wants to. Who wouldn’t want to spend more time with a woman like Ellen and a daughter who’s going to be a worldwide superstar before she reaches double figures?
“Go kiss Grandma, Grandpa and Auntie Izzy goodnight.”
Lola, this time wearing St George on her left hand, walks round the table kissing everyone. As she reaches me, she yawns and sets me off.
“Bed too for Auntie Izzy then,” Ellen says.
I nod. “Bit of a late night last night.”
“Work or pleasure?” Ellen smiles.
“Definitely pleasure.”
“Nothing to do with the article then?”
“No…” I say, hesitantly.
Mark walks into the dining room. “We’re set. Ready, munchkin?”
Lola nods a sleepy head as does St George, so Mark picks her up and walks out into the hall, closely followed by Mum and Dad.
I’m about to stand when Ellen says, “I love your new column.”
“Thank you.” I’m building up quite a fan club. “So you’ve caught it?”
“We get the paper delivered especially and keep every column.”
“Really?”
“Got files of them.”
“Wow.”
Ellen stands up. “I’d better catch up with the others.”
“Ellen.”
“Yes?”
“Thanks. For everything. Mark’s lucky.”
“I’m the lucky one.”
We walk out to the hallway where the others are saying their goodbyes. Lola is talking sleepily to St George who’s moving slightly, so presumably talking sleepily back to her. It’s at times like this that I wonder whether I should have children, but think, nah. I’d have Lola any time, but I’m sure even with someone as cute as her, I’d be happy to give her back eventually. They’re only in Bedford; I should see them more often… maybe via the pottery.
“We should see them more often,” Dad says as they drive off.
“Great minds think alike,” I say.
“They’re only in Bedford, after all.”
“They have their own lives to lead, Don,” Mum says.
“I know, Jane, but I think they struggle sometimes.”
“You heard Ellen, she’s bored.”
“But you also heard her say she wants to spend more time with him.”
I go into the lounge to get my bag, say goodbye, and leave them to it.
The drive home is uneventful and as soon as I get in, I make a cup of tea. It’s still early, so I sit up in bed, propped by four pillows, and pick up where Elliot and Natasha left off. I get a few pages read before my eyelids droop, so put the bookmark back in, finish my tea and go through to the bathroom.
I see an old woman staring back at me. I used to be quite proud of my wrinkle-free skin, but I spot minor crow’s feet around my eyes and a distinct hint of dark circles. Next will be bags and I’m not letting that happen. Even if my life depends upon it.
Chapter 22 – Jamie at the White Elephant
What did I learn from the weekend? That sometimes you can judge a book from the cover. E2 was the shortest man I’ve dated so far and was utterly charming. His dog was beautiful and so devoted. We had a lovely walk around Abington Park until the heavens opened and we took shelter in the bandstand. Our ‘date’ was therefore brief, but I would recommend him to any of you petite single girls who would like someone thoughtful, polite, who is a major animal lover.
I also learned that age really is only a number. I met a lovely retired lady who, despite being of some years (I daren’t guess as to how many as she reads this column), had far more energy than me.
So that was Saturday. Sunday was a different kettle of fish.
The saying goes that ‘simple things please simple minds’, but C was not simplistic. He was far too complicated for me – another man living in his own cocoon. He doesn’t have a clue what’s going on in the world around him, and yet his surroundings are all he seems bothered about.
That said, he was a very generous man. He’d brought a picnic and a blanket, and we walked to a romantic spot at the top of Delapré Park… or it would have been romantic if I hadn’t opened my big mouth and put my size eights in it – and off stomped C with uneaten picnic.
Electrical items that many of us take for granted are not owned by C. He has no television, no computer (we have his brother to thank for setting us up) and no mobile phone. C seems like a very intelligent guy, and if you live on Planet C and want to talk about nothing but his cocoon, then he’s the man for you.
So, the latest two items ticked on my ‘dater’s shopping list’: Don’t speak your mind if it’s likely to hurt someone’s feelings, even if it’s well intended, and Do get to know someone before making your decision.
I’m about to type the nerdy bit of the article when Donna creeps up behind me.
“Morning.”
“Ouch.”
“Oh dear. Did someone get out of the wrong side of the bed, or the wrong bed?” She laughs.
I turn round.
“Oh dear,” she repeats. “I shouldn’t probably say this, but you do look awful.”
“Thanks, friend.”
“I’ve probably got a serum for your dark circles…”
“And an early night, Doctor Clarke?”
“They have nothing to do with sleep.”
“Really?”
“Oh yes. It’s all to do with blood capillaries.”
“Oh.”
“It’s caused by a complex interaction between your body and a chemical reaction similar to that which produces bruises.”
“Donna Clarke, you never cease to amaze me.”
The cheesy grin returns. She peers at the screen, so I turn back to face it. “You’re hard at work already,” she says.
“I’ve got a lot to do, so I thought I’d come in early.”
“How very conscientious of you. Not trying to score any brownie points?” She looks over in the direction of William’s office, which is empty.
“No. I’m not. Lots to do.”
“If you say so.”
“I do, stirrer. He’ll go nuts if he hears you talking about him like that.”
“Who?” a voice asks behind me.
I spin round in my chair, nearly hitting William’s ankles with my feet. “Oops.”
“Morning, ladies. Are we well?”
“Yes, thank you, William,” I say.
“Oh yes.” Donna beams back. Which reminds me, she went out with Duncan last night and I’m dying to know how it went. I did text her before going to sleep, but had no reply.
William walks to his office, trendy black leather briefcase in hand, and we watch him go before resuming our conversation.
“So, serum?” Donna asks.
“Why not. First though, the goss. Did you get my text last night?”
“Ah, yes. Sorry, I did mean to reply except–”
“You were busy.”
She blushes. “Er, yes.”
“And how was Auntie Ruth’s?”
“Surprisingly busy for a Sunday night. Not as busy as a Friday or Saturday, I would imagine, but…”
“Details, Donna. Give me the juice.”
“He collected me…”
“Good.”
“I know. He’s a real gentleman.”
“Does his car smell of animals?”
“No. I was surprised. You’d think, wouldn’t you? Seeing as what he does…”
“Donna.”
“So anyway, he collects me in his new car…”
I envisage his RAV-4 then twig she said ‘new’ and is waiting for me to react, which I do, overdramatically. “A new car?”
“Blue BMW Roadster,” she replies, emphasising each word.
“Ooooh!”
“I know. He said he wanted something more fun.”
“I’m so jealous.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, I mean of the car.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I’ve seen or heard about my three favourite cars this week and I don’t own any of them.”
“You will if you become Mrs Stamp.”
“Donna! You still on that one?” Mrs Stamp. Sounds like a children’s cartoon character.
“Sorry. I’ll drop it.”
“Thank you.”
“But you would look cute…”
I glare.
“I’ll shut up now.”
“Back to dishing the dirt on date with Duncan please.”
She laughs. “So we go to Auntie Ruth’s and he’s got a space reserved for him. Don’t tell me how…”
“Maybe he knows the Richardsons.”
“Yes, maybe. So anyway, we park up and there’s a queue outside, on a Sunday, but we walk straight in like we’re royalty. The bouncer even calls him Duncan. It was so cool. Everyone looking at us.”
“I bet. And…”
“He buys me a drink, and we spy a couple who have finished theirs, so nab the seats as soon as they get up. After they’ve got up obviously, otherwise we’d be sitting on their laps…” She doesn’t pause for breath. “And we chat about the speed dating and then about work, and…”
“Hold on. What did you say about work?”
“What I do.”
“Shit.”
“What?”
“So he also
knows what I do?”
“Erm…”
“Donna. I begged you not to say anything.”
“He already knew.”
“He did? How?”
“From when William took his bird to the vet. The cage had our newspaper at the bottom and he said he saw your face. Quite funny really. Your face all covered in…”
“I get the picture.” It had never occurred to me that William’s vet could have been Duncan. They live on different sides of town, although William did move house a few months ago when he and his then wife separated. “So Duncan’s known for a while.”
“A couple of weeks or so.”
“Before the speed dating?”
“I suppose so.”
“Sneaky devil.”
“Why?”
“Because he didn’t say anything, did he? He let me waffle on about being a secretary when all along he knew all about the column. Why didn’t he say anything?”
“I don’t know. Do you think that’s why he didn’t request you?”
“I don’t think so. Besides, he’s got the hots for you.”
She looks down at her feet and moves her right foot from side to side before patting the carpet, as if stamping out an imaginary cigarette.
“Donna. Next?”
“Let’s just say the hours flew and… I don’t think I should tell you any more.”
“You can’t stop now.”
“On the way home, he drove past Abington Park. The moon was shining on the water, it was very romantic.”
“Sounds idyllic.”
“It was lovely. So quiet, especially when he turned the engine off.”
“Go on.”
“He asked me if I’d mind if he kissed me.”
“And you said…”
“Yes please, that would be lovely.”
“How sweet.”
“Isn’t it? He’s so lovely. Then we went back to my house and…”
By her grin, I can guess the rest and she changes the subject. “I’d better get to my desk. William will be on the prowl soon. He’s not come out for coffee yet or sent Janine over.”
“I’m glad you had a good time.”
“Really?”
“Of course. I’m happy if you’re happy.”
“I am.”
“And how did you leave things?”
“After breakfast.” She giggles.
The Serial Dater Page 24