Dream a Little Dream

  So, although on this occasion I know I’m calling with good news and that she’ll eventually be pleased with/for me, I firstly have to tell her that I’ve withheld the truth and never left the country. As you can imagine, my straight-talking mum doesn’t appreciate being lied to and I’m anxious as hell when I call her.

  ‘Hello?’ she welcomes, answering the house phone in her poshest voice.

  ‘Hi, Mum.’

  ‘Sarah, darling? I wasn’t expecting to hear from you until you got back,’ she says, seeming surprised and impressed that I’ve made the effort to call home.

  ‘Yeah …’ For a second I waver and wonder whether there’s any need to tell the truth at all.

  ‘Where are you now? What time is it there?’

  ‘I’m not in Australia, Mum, and I’ve quit my job,’ I say – quick, clean and to the point – killing the lie and setting my conscience free.

  ‘Oh fuck.’

  ‘Yep,’ I say, not even surprised that my mum has dropped the F-bomb. Clearly the apple didn’t fall very far from the tree, despite how prim and proper she might seem. Well, I had to get it from somewhere.

  ‘What happened? What did you do?’

  ‘Long story short?’ I ask, not waiting long enough for her to reply. ‘Jonathan was having an affair with Julie. Jonathan sacked Julie. Jonathan stopped me from going to Australia so that I could stay and make him coffee. Jonathan then said he couldn’t guarantee a promotion. So I left.’

  ‘Wait,’ she responds, her mind clearly ticking away as she breaks down my quick ramble. ‘Why did you ask for another promotion?’

  Oh crap, I forgot that white lie.

  ‘I didn’t actually get one before,’ I mumble, screwing up my face as I say it and wait for her response.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well I did. I was in all the meetings Mum, and contributing – my idea is being made and there are still people out in Australia recceing for it – it’s just that I wasn’t getting paid for the work I was doing alongside looking after Jonathan.’

  ‘So he basically gave you a hobby?’

  ‘Sort of … just so he could hide his affair with Julie.’

  ‘I see. Well it sounds very Jeremy Kyle.’ Pause. ‘What now? Have you signed on for dole money?’

  ‘No, Mum,’ I say, amazed at her tactfulness. ‘I’m not claiming benefits.’

  ‘Thank goodness,’ she exhales. ‘I was worried there. You hear of all these people scrounging from the state and I’d never let a daughter of mine …’

  ‘I’ve got a new job,’ I say, cutting her tirade short. ‘I start next Monday.’

  ‘Already? Oh God. Doing what?’

  I’ve no idea what she expects from me, but from the tone of exasperation in her voice I’m guessing she’s already presumed that I’ve turned to pole dancing – or prostitution.

  ‘Working for another television company. In Development this time.’

  ‘No.’ Pause. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say.

  ‘And this time you’re not lying? This is an actual job that you’re being paid money for?’

  ‘Yes,’ I confirm. ‘Good money too.’

  ‘Well, I’m relieved. You don’t need a boss like that. Onwards and upwards,’ she sighs, neglecting to congratulate me. ‘Actually dear, I’m glad you phoned. We have some rather unfortunate news.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Well, we were all set to go to Dan’s wedding but Dad went to the GP about his knee back in December and it turns out he needs a little operation on it.’

  ‘What? Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Oh, don’t be silly,’ she says, shrugging me off. ‘Nothing major. We didn’t want to worry you seeing as you were going out of the country – we were going to wait until you got back and tell you then. Anyway – the letter’s come through from the hospital and it’s scheduled for the Wednesday before the wedding. He’s not going to be back up on his feet in time and I don’t really want to travel all that way without him.’

  ‘Oh no,’ I say, genuinely concerned for my dad but quite delighted that they won’t be at the wedding – that’ll give me something less to worry about.

  ‘Ghastly timing.’

  ‘Yes, but Dad’s health comes first,’ I say.

  ‘Obviously, darling,’ she says flippantly. ‘Although I want to hear about every single detail of the day – you must take photos. The official invites came through and I noticed the reception is being held in Pat’s back garden. Well … I’m not sure what I think of that. Are they using a tent?’

  ‘You mean a marquee? No Mum, they’re just going to chuck all their guests outside in the middle of February.’

  ‘Well I don’t know, do I?’ she tuts.

  When I eventually get off the phone I walk into Carly’s room, who’s getting ready for a date night with Josh. Thanks to them ducking and diving around London keeping their relationship secret, and then Carly feeling ill whilst pregnant, they never really got to go out and enjoy each other’s company without worrying – so tonight they’re off for a date on the river. It’s all very romantic and it’s now my turn to lounge and watch her get ready for a change. I jump on her bed as she’s finishing off her make-up on the floor.

  ‘How’d that go?’ she asks, looking at me in the mirror, before sucking in her cheeks and applying her blusher.

  ‘Better than I expected.’

  ‘See, she’s never as bad as you think she is.’

  ‘I think she’s getting soft as she gets older,’ I say.

  ‘So, next on the list – when are you going to tell Brett?’ she asks, turning to me.

  ‘I already have,’ I admit.

  I hadn’t wanted to tell Real Brett about leaving the company until I had another job to move on to. Just leaving with no solid plan seemed a little skittish and worrisome – I wanted to wait until my future looked promising and full of potential. Gosh, maybe my mum’s views and morals have seeped in somewhere, because those words could’ve popped right out of her mouth.

  ‘Whoa,’ sounds Carly. ‘When?’

  ‘Right after I got the news,’ I smirk.

  ‘And?’ she asks, raising her eyebrows at me.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Has he replied?’

  ‘No … but when I next went on Facebook Louisa had posted a few dozen pics of them out at some beach party looking really drunk and dancing together.’

  ‘Essssshh …’ she sounds, turning back to the mirror and picking up her lip balm.

  ‘Yeah. My thoughts exactly,’ I groan, rolling my eyes.

  ‘It might not mean …’

  ‘Hmm … it might not, in fact it probably doesn’t – but it doesn’t look like he’s missing me too much right now,’ I shrug, trying not to let the situation tempt me into becoming a bunny-boiling loon.

  ‘You never know. Have you heard from him at all while he’s been over there?’

  ‘Not really. Only to let me know they’d got there and met the tour guide.’

  ‘Well, he is in the middle of nowhere,’ she says running her fingers along her lips.

  ‘No he’s fucking not,’ I moan at her for using the exact excuse I was going to give my mother when she didn’t hear from me for three weeks. ‘He’s in Australia – there’s phone signal in every place they’re staying. I’ve checked.’

  As if by magic my phone pings to tell me I have an email – it’s from Real Brett. Bizarrely I feel nervous as I click on it.

  WOW WOW WOW! So chuffed for you. Now you’ll never have to make coffee again. ;-) Look forward to celebrating with you when I’m back. x

  P.S. She’s doing my nut in.

  I feel myself physically gush at my phone and laugh out loud.

  ‘What? Who’s that?’ asks Carly, glaring at me in the mirror.

  When I don’t reply she turns to me, a big grin on her face.

  ‘YES!!!’

  I find myself stalking Poutmouth’s Facebook page for the next few days, but thank
fully find no further pictures of Real Brett – just the standard ones of her pouting in the sunshine. I’m guessing there’s more to the pictures she took than I’d fleetingly thought. She was probably trying to make her ex jealous as I’ve not seen her post a single picture of him since being over there. Or she could be trying to make me jealous – which I wouldn’t put past her.

  I’ve no idea how, but I’m pretty sure she was behind Jonathan and Julie’s exposé at the Christmas party – someone had clearly spoken to Dianne and pointed her in their direction, and, as far as I can see, the only person set to gain from the whole thing was Poutmouth. She’d have wanted to rock the boat somehow and scupper my chances of Oz … She’s a total witch and I’m glad to be seeing the back of her. I’m just sad that Julian and my gorgeous elderly folk are going to have to put up with her while on their big excursion. Although, at least I know they’ll have Real Brett.

  Just as I’m about to leave the office of Red Brick for the very last time after four weeks of wrapping up loose ends and handing over my job to Jonathan’s next skivvy, I find myself going over to Real Brett’s desk, scribbling a note and leaving it in his drawer to find on his return from New Zealand (yes, sadly their trip got extended). It reads:

  ‘No more half measures.’ Breaking Bad

  I smile at the quote, sigh at the office I’m hoping never to walk into again, turn on my heels and leave to meet my nicer work colleagues and my gorgeous besties in the pub for a very drunken ‘So long, farewell’ drink.

  33

  I get lost in the whirlwind of my new job. New office, new people, new names to remember – I hardly stop at all during the first week. I want to totally absorb myself in my new surroundings and forget all the negativity I’ve been wading through lately.

  However, on Monday morning, on the first day in my new job, at eight thirty-two, just as I sit at my desk with a coffee I’ve brought in with me from The Barge Café, I get an email.

  Wow, mornings are dull here without you. Want some toast? I’ve got fresh jam! ;-) x

  I smile at my screen.

  It’s also Real Brett’s first day in the office since landing back from New Zealand at the weekend and it warms my heart that the first thing he’s done is contact me.

  Yes please! Don’t scrimp on the good stuff, though. I want a decent sized portion. x

  Size doesn’t matter, Sarah – it’s what you do with it that counts. You should know that. x

  I receive similar emails around the same time over the next couple of days. None of them saying much, just having a little flirt about nothing extraordinary, but still – they each make my face crack into a grin and are a lovely note to start the day on.

  Tuesday:

  Fun fact: when Twister was first introduced in 1966, it was denounced by critics as ‘sex in a box’.

  Wow, I didn’t know that … Thanks Brett.

  Want a game? ;-) x

  Wednesday:

  Fun fact: otters sleep holding hands …

  he writes, along with a Youtube link to a video of a pair of otters doing just that.

  That’s so cute.

  I’m glad you think that … because I sleep like an otter.

  Cheese …

  Best you know from the start. I’m very snuggly. x

  I think of the dreams spent lying in Dream Brett’s arms and find myself sighing longingly at the screen …

  ‘So, are you going to remind him about the weekend?’ Carly asks on our way to the pub for our final quiz night before the wedding – the last one before our group contains a married ‘grown-up’ couple.

  ‘I’ve thought about it – but I don’t want to push it.’

  ‘Why not?’ she asks as we sidestep around a gaggle of teenage boys outside Londis who’ve gathered to look at their mate’s new bike and glug on cans of Dr Pepper.

  ‘It’s on Valentine’s Day so it’s hardly a day that’s going to pass him by unnoticed. He’ll know it’s coming up. I just don’t want him to feel like he has to come … I don’t want to force him there.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous.’

  ‘No it’s not.’

  ‘It is. How’s he meant to know where to go or any of the details? He’s your plus one.’

  ‘He’s not my plus one,’ I protest, pulling my coat around me a little tighter. ‘That’s just what Dan and Lexie have called it so that she doesn’t get into a flap about the numbers.’

  ‘Babe, he’s your plus one,’ she grins, throwing her arms around my waist and resting her head on my shoulder. ‘You’re meant to at least pass on the details and see if he wants to be lumbered with your company for the day.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I reply with an eye roll, tapping her cheek.

  ‘He might have a date anyway,’ she shrugs, lifting her head and screwing up her face as though she’s not bothered about the whole thing suddenly.

  ‘Oi,’ I say, slapping her on the arm.

  ‘What?’ she asks innocently.

  ‘Don’t you play that reverse psychology thing on me, bitch …’

  She starts cackling then and squeezes into me. ‘God, you’re hard to manipulate.’

  Walking into the pub, we see all of our mates already gathered with drinks, crisps and nuts that are waiting to be consumed.

  ‘Are we late?’ I ask, looking at my watch.

  ‘No, only just got here,’ says Alastair, standing up and giving each of us a hug. ‘Got you both a drink each.’

  ‘Very organized, Alastair, that’s what I like to see.’

  Once hellos and hugs are out of the way I’m relieved to perch my butt down into a seat and grab for my large glass of red – it’s become my must-have drink over the winter months.

  ‘Is everything coming together?’ I ask Dan as he sits down opposite me – surprising myself when I don’t feel my body stiffen or my jaw clench.

  He nods in response and puffs out his cheeks. ‘We’ve spent the last few nights wrapping up the favours. I’m exhausted.’

  ‘Exhausted?’ laughs Lexie in disbelief. ‘That’s not even the start of it – we’ve got the place cards to go yet and the seating plan to finalize – and even then we’ll still have a million more jobs to master over the next few days.’

  ‘I’m surprised you’ve been allowed out,’ laughs Josh.

  ‘Nearly wasn’t, mate,’ Dan admits, rolling his eyes cheekily.

  ‘All those little touches are worth the extra effort, though,’ says Natalia, her eyes wide and sincere. ‘They really make the difference.’

  ‘At least I know you’ll appreciate the time I’ve spent painstakingly tying delicate little bows,’ he says to her.

  ‘Mate,’ Alastair says, shaking his head at the fact that his best friend has become so emasculated.

  Thankfully Lexie laughs along with the rest of us.

  Dan throws his arm around her shoulder and pulls her into him. ‘You know there’s nothing I’d rather do,’ he says, lowering his voice.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry. I know that,’ she giggles. ‘Actually, if it’s okay with you all – I’d like to say a few words,’ she squeaks, shuffling forward in her chair.

  Dan gives her a questioning look, clearly in the dark about what she’s about to say or do. The rest of us just sit quietly as we sip on our drinks and munch on our snacks – we’re a contentedly captivated audience. Even Natalia puts her phone in her bag earlier than normal to avoid being distracted by a client calling with a pillow dilemma.

  ‘Right … I know I’m probably not going to see all of you before the wedding, so I wanted to use this last time of us all being together to say thank you,’ she says, her eyes glistening. ‘I thought it was going to be tough joining a bunch of people who’d been friends for years and shared so much together, but you all made it easy from the get go. From day one I’ve felt nothing but welcomed, even though there might’ve been cause to hate me.’

  She looks up at me then with a pensive look and a nibble on her bottom lip, which is wobbling with emotion. br />
  I wink slowly at her – and hope the look conveys enough.

  She looks down at her glass of wine and takes a deep breath.

  Dan reaches under the table and takes her hand, something I’m grateful for.

  ‘You might’ve been introduced to me back then as friends of Dan’s, but I’m so happy that each and every one of you is now a friend of mine too. I know we’re going to make lots more memories together – and I promise to never turn into the nagging wife.’

  ‘Unless it’s necessary,’ interjects Carly. ‘Got to give yourself a bit of movement there so you can keep him in check.’

  ‘Was almost looking like the perfect marriage there, man,’ laughs Josh, his arm moving around Carly.

  ‘Knew it was too good to be true,’ sighs Dan, turning to Lexie and flashing her one of his mega-watt smiles. ‘Not that I mind in the slightest, of course.’

  Alastair gives a little fanfare as he slowly lifts his arm skyward, his hand forming into a thumbs-up sign, before dramatically slamming the single digit down on to the table in front of us.

  Dan turns bright red with embarrassment as the rest of us laugh around him.

  ‘Let’s toast,’ I say, raising my glass in the air, smiling happily for the duo sat in front of me. ‘To being happily under the thumb.’

  ‘Happily under the thumb,’ the table choruses together before we all swig from our glasses.