‘Well, I don’t know if – ’

  ‘You’ll get to see Ned,’ Alastair sings, cutting Real Brett off and heading back to Josh at the bar.

  ‘And face it, Sar, you’ll find it near impossible to talk anyone else into it,’ nods Carly. ‘Especially as it’s on Valentine’s Day.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I mutter, thrilled that my friend is declaring my love life to be pathetic to both my ex and sort of dream lover.

  ‘You’d be doing her a favour,’ she continues, looking at Real Brett.

  ‘Er, I think that’s pushing it a bit too far,’ I stammer, ready to drag her pregnant arse back to the loo for another chat.

  ‘Possibly, but will you accept the task of putting up with her for a whole day?’ she asks Real Brett.

  ‘We’ll see,’ he frowns with a shrug. ‘I’ll go help with the drinks.’

  He picks up his empty glass and makes his way to join Alastair and Josh at the bar.

  ‘I’ll come,’ says Dan, gathering the rest of the empties on the table along with the empty crisp packets, before carrying them over.

  ‘I’m going to pop to the loo,’ says Lexie, before leaving me with Carly and a distracted Natalia.

  ‘Great,’ I say, rolling my eyes. ‘Thanks bitchface. You’ve made me look really desperate.’

  ‘You are.’

  ‘Nice,’ mutters Natalia on my behalf.

  ‘Worst part about having your friends set you up with someone in front of you? Watching them say no,’ I say, squishing the palms of my hands into the sockets of my eyes.

  ‘He didn’t say no,’ she tuts.

  ‘He did,’ I say flatly.

  ‘It was practically a yes,’ chips in Natalia, with a feeble shrug.

  ‘Were you even listening?’

  ‘I’m a woman. I multitask … especially when it suits me,’ she winks. ‘And stop protesting so much. I could think of worse people to be forced into spending time with. I don’t remember him being so hot.’

  At that Carly lets out another cackle.

  One guy – three very different accounts of his looks: I think he’s aged, Carly thinks he looks exactly the same as he did before, and Natalia think he’s hotter than her memory can offer … a gentle reminder that life makes us all view beauty in very different ways. Unless it’s George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Billy Buskin, Ryan Gosling, Leonardo DiCaprio or that bloke who’s just joined the cast of EastEnders … they’re fitter than fit and there’s no denying their looks.

  ‘Seriously,’ Natalia continues. ‘I had to pick up my phone and shove it in my face just to stop myself from staring at him inappropriately.’

  ‘Right? And this madam is totally looking a gift horse in the mouth,’ shrieks Carly, waving her hand in my face.

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Are.’

  ‘I just don’t want to feel like he’s being forced into spending the most romantic day of the year with me,’ I argue.

  ‘But I beg of you, think of the babies you’d make,’ swoons Natalia.

  ‘What?’ I squeal.

  ‘Think of your mother’s happiness,’ adds Carly.

  And with that they cackle in unison.

  ‘You’re such losers,’ I mumble into my near-empty glass, feeling like I’m nearing a full-on sulk.

  ‘And that’s why you love us,’ replies Carly, pouring some wine into it.

  ‘Cheers to that,’ laughs Natalia, raising her glass to mine and chinking them together.

  I take a big gulp and scowl at them both, making them laugh again.

  ‘Ooh, have you heard from Max? How’s Andrea?’ asks Natalia.

  ‘She’s huge and restless apparently,’ I say, repeating what my brother texted me earlier in the day.

  ‘Isn’t her due date soon?’ asks Carly, subtly placing a hand on her tummy and thinking of her own growing baby.

  ‘Yep, on Sunday – so anything could happen now.’

  ‘Exciting times Aunty Sarah,’ grins Natalia.

  ‘God, that sounds so grown up,’ I reply, taking a gulp of my wine.

  ‘It was going to happen at some point,’ she replies, pursing her lips.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ calls Ian over the microphone, making everyone dash back to their seats speedily. ‘For the second time this month we have a tie-breaker situation.’

  ‘Ooooooh …’ cheers the room with much commotion.

  ‘And, for the second time this month, it’s between “Rehomed from Leicester” and “The High-kick-flyers”.’

  ‘Get in,’ mutters Josh, clearly forgetting our fate the last time this happened.

  ‘I’m staying quiet for this one,’ whispers Lexie, baring her teeth at the memory.

  ‘Right, you ready folks?’ asks Ian. ‘Here we go … Many people mistakenly think “It’s Not Unusual’ was Tom Jones’ debut single, but it was in fact his second. What was the first?”

  ‘That’s not a tie-breaker question,’ huffs Dan, looking around at Ian, as though he’s about to protest.

  ‘Shh,’ I whisper, unable to hide my excitement at knowing the answer.

  But before I can reach over for the pen to write it down, I see Real Brett whisper to Alastair, and him writing down ‘Chills and Fever’. It’s what I would’ve said … and something only people who are fans (or have spent a lot of time Googling Sir Tom) would know.

  A link.

  A connection.

  A feeling of elation in my chest.

  We give in our answer.

  We win.

  There’s uproar from the opposition at the nature of the tie-breaker question not being the usual ‘closest person wins’ type answer – that they weren’t in with a chance from the start due to their lack of knowledge in the Tom Jones Trivia department.

  Ian waves off their complaints.

  We cheer, hug and whoop, then let the opposition order themselves a free round on us – we might act like we despise them, but quiz night certainly got a lot more fun since they started coming along.

  ‘Thanks for having me,’ says Real Brett, getting up from his seat and putting on his coat.

  ‘Thank you!’ smirks Josh, ecstatic to have finally won a game again.

  ‘You’re not going already, are you?’ cries Carly to Real Brett, her face aghast that he’s leaving, probably because she’s been looking forward to winding me up in front of him a bit more.

  ‘Early start,’ he replies apologetically.

  ‘We owe you one,’ nods Alastair.

  ‘It was nothing. Just something I knew,’ he shrugs, before side glancing at me.

  As a knowing look is exchanged between us, my breath swells in my throat at the sight of his startling green eyes. Other than to observe their colour, I’d never really looked at them before and had missed not only the sparkle in them, but their wholesome quality that matches the kindness and openness of their owner.

  ‘I think Sarah probably knew the answer anyway,’ he continues, gazing at me, the corner of his lips twitching up into a smile.

  I find myself mirroring the expression.

  ‘Not likely,’ remarks Dan, butting in on the moment. ‘Her music collection is filled with boybands from the noughties and a bit of classical Mozart to please her mum.’

  ‘And when was the last time you checked? Perhaps her taste has changed,’ Real Brett fires, pulling his gloves from his pocket and slapping them together.

  I watch as Dan looks up at him and gawps speechlessly.

  ‘Probably right,’ he frowns, turning to an unaware Lexie and rubbing her back affectionately.

  ‘So good to see you mate’, says Alastair, coming around the table to give Real Brett a pat on the back, leading into a man hug. ‘You’ll have to come back and play again some time.’

  ‘Yes! You might be our lucky charm!’ says Josh, already thinking about the next win.

  ‘Oh dear – the fate of our pub quiz future success now rests on your shoulders,’ mocks Natalia.

  Real Brett laughs and holds his ha
nd in the air as he swivels on the spot and makes for the exit. ‘See you all soon, maybe.’

  ‘At the wedding,’ shouts Carly.

  He waves his hand in response.

  Once I’ve stopped staring at the empty space that he’s left in his wake, I turn back to the table to pick up my glass and find Carly staring at me with a big grin on her face.

  ‘Yeah … he’s so not your type,’ she mouths.

  Cue cackle.

  24

  The next morning I wander into work with an almighty spring in my step – bar the fact that my friends tried setting us up, I thoroughly enjoyed having Real Brett out with us and am glad he came along. I was wrong to dread spending more time with him. Perhaps there’s a reason my dreams decided to pick him for a recurring lead role and not some other random guy from my past.

  I cheerily skip (yes, I actually skip like a little girl) through the office doors and spot him already sat at his desk, staring at his computer screen while munching on some toast and slurping on a pint of milk.

  ‘So you are a Tom Jones fan,’ I say, heading straight to his desk and performing my winter ritual of delayering myself of clothes.

  He arches an eyebrow at me. ‘Guilty as charged.’

  ‘Is that more of your nan’s jam?’ I ask, while taking off my orange cardigan, spying a touch of red on his last piece of toast as he rams it in his mouth and guzzles it down with a mouthful of the white stuff.

  ‘No, I gave that to you,’ he says, frowning at the memory. ‘Now I’m having to suffer the shortcomings of this crap from the corner shop while I wait for you to start sharing.’

  ‘I took it home.’

  ‘Exactly,’ he smiles, looking back to his computer screen. ‘I’m still waiting for an invite.’

  A bashful smile pings on my face as he says it. ‘And there I was thinking I’d imagined your forward behaviour.’

  ‘Not that forward then, clearly,’ he smiles cheekily, his sparkling green eyes back on me. ‘I’ll have to work on it. Thanks for the tip.’

  ‘Pleasure,’ I laugh, turning away from him to dump my many layers of discarded outer garments and black leather shoulder bag on to my desk.

  ‘So tell me, what’s the deal with you two?’ he asks my back, the tone of his voice changing from flirty to inquisitive.

  ‘Huh?’ I ask, turning back.

  ‘You and Dan?’ There’s a waver of nerves in his voice now, as though he’s questioning whatever thought pattern had led him to start this thread of the conversation.

  I look at him confused and bewildered. ‘What? There’s no deal.’

  ‘No loitering feelings?’

  ‘Definitely not,’ I reply boldly, finding that I am repulsed at the thought.

  ‘Right,’ Real Brett says, his eyebrows shooting skyward in surprise.

  ‘Why’d you ask that?’

  ‘It’s nothing. I just thought I picked up on something, but I’m clearly wrong.’

  ‘What?’ I ask, intrigued as to why the first guy I’ve taken with me to see my friends (albeit in a non-romantic capacity) has concluded that there are dodgy goings-on with the guy who inconsiderately broke my heart.

  ‘The way he invited me to the wedding – as your date – was weird,’ he reasons, while barely looking at me. ‘I mean, it’s nice to be asked, but I’ve not seen you guys in years. Felt like I might be being used in some way.’

  ‘You were – as my guardian,’ I laugh. ‘Ex-girlfriends don’t usually get invited to things like this. There’s probably a small part of his brain that wonders whether I’m finally going to call him out for being such a shit.’

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘Well … he was.’

  ‘You also held your breath throughout the whole discussion.’

  ‘Did I?’ I ask, genuinely surprised to hear that as I was completely oblivious to the action my body must automatically perform on my behalf. Although, on reflection, I’m certain I was more worried about what was going to come out of Carly’s mouth than Dan’s. Not that I can say that to Real Brett, of course. Not without running the risk of revealing far more than I should.

  ‘Yes,’ he nods. ‘Well, when you weren’t practically begging them to take back the offer.’

  ‘I did not do that,’ I laugh, horrified that he’d seen through my shocked reaction. ‘I was caught off guard.’

  ‘You and me both.’

  ‘Ha. Sorry about that.’

  ‘I know you don’t have a boyfriend as such,’ continues Real Brett with a sigh. ‘But there’s certainly someone – which is why you’ve knocked me back a few times.’

  ‘Oh is that why?’ I laugh.

  He bites his lip and grins back at me. ‘Can’t be anything else.’

  I tilt my head in response and break eye contact, suddenly feeling shy.

  ‘But your relationship status is complicated,’ he decides. ‘So either you’ve got an imaginary boyfriend or you’re dating someone you shouldn’t.’

  I look at him agog. Not because he thinks there might be some hidden feelings between me and Dan, but because he’s almost hit the nail square on the head.

  I, at twenty-nine years old, have an imaginary boyfriend – a boyfriend who I’ve shared a plethora of adventures with, but only in the creative mind space of my dreams.

  Oh the shame of it.

  I laugh hysterically at the realization.

  To Real Brett it must sound like a genuine case of the giggles, but in reality I’m on the verge of tears. It’s a tragic tale of events.

  ‘I guess I put two and two together …’ he offers, seeming apologetic.

  ‘Clearly,’ I say, getting a grip of myself and becoming calmer. ‘I can categorically say that there are no hidden feelings between me and my ex – I’m not entirely sure what you picked up on there. Actually, it’s a bit worrying that you thought that. And also, I do not have a boyfriend.’

  ‘Oh crap.’

  ‘What now?’ I almost shriek.

  ‘I figured you having a complicated relationship status was the reason for you knocking me back twice … turns out you don’t fancy me and I was just being rejected.’

  ‘You got me,’ I mock. ‘At least you know now.’

  ‘Ouch,’ he says, rubbing his chest. ‘You’ve got a real nice way with words.’

  I smile to reassure him that I’m joking and only going along with his playful banter. I’m relieved when it’s returned.

  ‘You don’t need to come along as my date,’ I say, letting him off the hook. ‘Despite what they might think I’m totally okay about the whole thing. I really don’t need someone to hold my hand and check I’m all right every five minutes.’

  ‘Or to stop you running up the aisle and declaring your unwavering love for Dan?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Or starting a food fight with the wedding cake?’

  ‘Only if it’s fruitcake – I hate fruitcake,’ I reason.

  ‘Or tripping up the bride as she walks past you?’

  ‘More likely to do it to the groom,’ I nod.

  ‘Or throwing a hissy fit when you’re not allowed in all the photos?’

  ‘I’m sure I’ll have to be in at least one.’

  ‘Or telling his nan about the time you had sex in her pantry?’

  ‘How’d you know about that?’ I jokingly gasp aghast.

  ‘Or getting really drunk and streaking across the dancefloor during the first dance?’

  ‘Ah, is that one really not allowed? Because I’ve been practising all sorts of moves.’

  ‘I’m sure we can negotiate on that one – it would be too funny to stop.’

  ‘Oh God. Maybe I do need a chaperone,’ I sigh.

  Real Brett nods. ‘Well, we’ll see.’

  ‘How was the quiz?’ calls Julie, as she waddles through the door carrying a dark green overnight bag.

  ‘Great,’ I say, wandering back to my desk, deciding it’s time to switch my computer on and get going.

  I can’
t stand around talking all day.

  No matter how much I’d love to.

  Ten minutes later Jonathan arrives carrying a gym bag and looking incredibly pleased with himself.

  ‘Morning,’ he booms as he strides past Julie and I, giving us both a wink.

  ‘Morning,’ we call.

  ‘Oh Sarah,’ he says, poking his head back out through the door of his office. ‘Grab a coffee and Brett if you would.’

  Three minutes later I place a coffee in front of Jonathan and am about to walk back out the door to my desk when he stops me. ‘You can stay actually, Sarah.’

  ‘Really?’ I query, confused as I look at Real Brett and Jonathan.

  ‘Take a seat,’ my boss encourages hastily.

  I quickly sit next to Real Brett.

  ‘Now, I had a meeting last night with Derek and Damian to discuss the company and any future projects that might be on the horizon,’ he says, resting his hands on the top of his rounded tummy in the same way I’ve seen Andrea do whilst heavily pregnant. ‘Sarah, your pitch came up.’

  ‘Oh?’ I ask, feeling my cheeks redden. ‘You mean my Grannies Go Gap idea …’

  ‘That’s the one,’ he nods. ‘I know you two are looking into case studies for this. How far have you got?’

  ‘We’ve found a great elderly guy,’ I say, looking at Real Brett and feeling comforted when he sends an encouraging nod in my direction.

  ‘A man? But isn’t this about grannies?’

  ‘Yes, that’s what the title suggests,’ reasons Real Brett for us. ‘But Julian is such a character, we’d be foolish not to include him among any women we find.’

  ‘Also, I’ve been thinking,’ I add. ‘This is something that I’ve not run past Damian or Brett yet, but I was thinking about changing the concept slightly so that the cast stay together for the duration of the show – like a group of mates on a gap year. It might strike more of a comparison to what eighteen-year-olds do so freely without thinking of how amazing it is that they can travel around the world and go on these types of adventures together.’

  ‘It would obviously help to make the whole thing more concise and easier to navigate if we’re following one group, too,’ nods Real Brett.

  ‘Exactly,’ I nod back. ‘They’d each have their own stories to share and moment to tell them, but it might make the whole thing feel a little more organic and fluid.’