Page 10 of The Happiness Project

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Leaving the restaurant, we say our goodbyes to the boys and head home. Once inside we both get straight into our slouchies, make hot drinks — chocolate for her and camomile for me — then take up position in our usual spots: Patty stretched out on the sofa and me snuggled up on the big armchair. As I said, it’s amazing how quickly you can get into a routine with someone.

‘What do you think will be on your mum’s bucket list?’ asks Patty. She’s flicking through videos of eighties and nineties bands on the TV, making notes as to which might make it onto the Granny-Okies setlist.

‘I have no idea,’ I answer truthfully. ‘She’s never been the shy and retiring type so I’ve always thought that she and Dad have done everything that they’ve wanted to. They’ve certainly seen the world and are still travelling.’

My parents often come on Mercury Travel trips and they’ve been to many of the big places people dream about, including the Grand Canyon, Niagara Falls and the pyramids. My mother described them respectively as ‘big’, ‘wet’ and ‘sandy’ in her postcards home. Even now, Mum will seek out a shop selling postcards, and getting one always makes me smile. It’s such a lovely tradition and I think it’s quite sad that it’s died out. A WhatsApp selfie is just not the same.

‘Maybe it’s not going to be travel, maybe it’ll be sword-swallowing or skydiving,’ says Patty.

I shrug, unable to imagine Mum doing either of them but equally unable to think of anything else.

‘One thing it won’t be is a military fitness session,’ I say. ‘I really can’t believe I agreed to join that.’

‘You were supporting Charlie,’ Patty says. ‘He obviously wants to get in shape for Peter — that man has a seriously good body.’

‘I wouldn’t have thought you’d notice another man’s body, as smitten as you are.’

‘One can still admire a Porsche while driving a Rolls Royce,’ replies Patty. ‘Talking of which, any word from your Mini Cooper?’

I frown at her, puzzled.

‘Michael — the mystery man,’ she says. ‘I couldn’t think what car he’d be but Michael the Mini works until we know otherwise.’

She winks at me and I shake my head in despair.

‘Call him now,’ says Patty. ‘Just say hello and see if he fancies coffee one day.’

‘Well, there is a new place I’ve heard of recently, but I don’t know — surely if he wanted to meet up wouldn’t he have called me, to say he had a nice time at the party or ask how I’ve settled in? There are loads of reasons he could have called, but he hasn’t.’

‘So, call him and tell him he’s rude for not calling.’

I promise that I will call but tell Patty that I’ll give it another few days. She sighs at me and gets up, heading into the kitchen. When she returns she has a phone attached to her ear — my phone.

‘It’s ringing,’ she says, handing it to me. Patty knows all my PIN numbers so breaking through security and finding Michael’s number was as hard as accessing my mum’s phone. My heart is pounding as I hear the ringtone and I’m mentally whizzing through tones of voice to use when it’s answered. To my relief it’s not picked up and I have to leave a message. I tell him that I’ve settled in at Patty’s and if he fancies it, I’d love to meet for coffee one day. I’m about to hang up when I feel I have to say, ‘Oh, it’s Angie by the way — your old neighbour. The one you left gnomes for.’

I end the call and look up at Patty, who gives me a satisfied nod.

Within five minutes my phone rings and I see Michael’s name light up. I show Patty before answering and she gives me the thumbs up then leaves the room as I say hello.

‘I was so glad you called,’ Michael says, and I hear genuine happiness in his voice. ‘I didn’t have your number. You had mine from the visit to the vet but you called me from there and so I had no record of yours.’

I rummage through my memory for the details of that day and realise that’s all true — thank goodness Patty forced me to do this. Our conversation is very chirpy and we arrange to meet for coffee next weekend. I’m on a high as the call ends and dance up the stairs to Patty’s room to tell her the news. Her door is shut but I think nothing of opening it and looking in. She’s on the bed video-calling Jack, and as I walk in she jerks up as if she’s been caught dirty-talking — which she probably has.

‘Bit of privacy, if you don’t mind,’ she says to me, waving me out of the room.

I retreat, slightly wounded. I won’t have my best friend here for much longer and, truth be told, I’m not really ready to share her yet.

Chapter Six: The Bucket List

I’ve barely opened my eyes when I hear someone pressing the front door bell and calling out our names as if they’re a contender in the annual town crier competition. I roll onto my back and lie for a moment in the vain hope that Patty will get up to answer the door. Not a sound. I might have guessed — she’ll sleep through the last days of earth. Although, given how traumatic that would be, managing to dream your way through the apocalypse is probably a good option.

I fling my legs out of bed, push my feet into slippers and my arms into a robe then plod downstairs. Last night wasn’t a particularly drunken one but we were late back and after such a busy start to the year, I could have done with a lie in. Maybe it’s just a delivery and I can go back to bed soon. Reaching the door, I peer through the spyhole and groan. It’s my mother looking rather too animated for this time of day — no lie-in today then.

‘You took your time,’ she says when I open the door. ‘I was about to call the fire brigade in case you’d caught that monoxide thing and fallen into a coma.’

I sigh in despair but step aside and let her in.

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