Page 17 of The Happiness Project

At New Year, one of the things I found out about Michael is that he runs a property maintenance company. He and his team have contracts with many of the halls, social clubs and theatres in the area.

‘Oh yes,’ says Patty, ‘I’d forgotten — today’s the day you two actually get together. Do you want me to make myself scarce when you get back? I suppose you don’t have to bring him back here at all, do you? He has his own love nest.’

She stands up and does that ridiculous thing that schoolboys do — with her back to me she wraps her arms around herself and makes smooching noises.

‘How were you ever in charge of a team of people?’ I ask, tutting at her and putting my used crockery in the dishwasher. I leave her in the kitchen while I go upstairs to get dressed and clean my teeth, checking for any wayward seeds that might still be stuck. When I get back downstairs Patty has fortunately stopped snogging herself.

‘Just jesting,’ she says. ‘So what’s the plan for today?’

‘I’m keeping it simple,’ I tell her. ‘We’re meeting at a tea shop and we’ll go for a walk before coming back for cake.’

‘Sounds very chaste. I’m picturing you with your chaperone, early nineteenth century — you in a long dress and him looking like Mr Darcy.’

‘I could certainly go for that — the Darcy part anyway.’

‘Well, I hope he emerges from the lake wearing a wet see-through shirt for you,’ says Patty. ‘Although he’d probably catch his death during January in Cheshire and that’s not a great start to a relationship.’

‘I just didn’t want there to be any pressure on us,’ I continue, ignoring her. ‘The way we met wasn’t exactly conventional and for all I know, he may have decided he just wants to be friends. A walk means we can simply chat and there’s no awkward staring across a dinner table at each other.’

‘I hope it works out for you, Bo, I really do.’

‘It’s either this or I find a nunnery with a vacancy.’ I smile, although as I say the words I wonder if there are any nearby.

* * *

I’m trying not to worry too much about today. We’ve just met and he’s just a friend. A very new friend. Okay — a handsome, friendly, funny new friend but just a friend nonetheless. Have I built him up too much in my mind? After all, we had one afternoon at the vet’s and one New Year party — is that enough time to decide how you feel about someone? I’ve read somewhere that you know within six seconds or something ridiculous like that. True, I looked into his eyes when he opened his front door to me for the first time and wondered why on earth we hadn’t met earlier, but wasn’t that just the dopamine talking?

‘You’re overthinking it again, aren’t you?’

Patty’s voice stirs me from my thoughts and I realise that I’m still standing in the kitchen with one boot on and the other in my hand, poised to be placed on my foot. I shake myself back to reality and put on the second boot then my coat and scarf. I’m dressed for a walk but the scarf is a bright paisley design, which I hope says I’ve made a bit of an effort.

‘You’re going to be very early.’ Patty is looking at the clock on the wall.

‘I’m popping in to see Zoe first,’ I tell her. ‘I want to ask her about her gran’s list to see if she knows any stylists who might help with the 10 Years Younger part.’

‘And ask her if she needs any acts for events,’ adds Patty with a hopeful note. ‘They do weddings and celebrations, don’t they? Tell her we’re happy to perform at short notice.’

I promise that I will while also envisaging the bride’s face when she learns that the Granny-Okies are performing at her wedding. Horror is the first expression I can imagine.

* * *

My daughter Zoe is the manager of a big hotel and doing extremely well in her chosen profession. She works all hours, which is why she’s probably doing so well, and she’s dating a lovely man called James, who is older than her and who works just as hard. The time they do have free is quite precious and I don’t like to intrude on it, but when I rang to tell her about her gran’s bucket list, she said she wanted to help out. I’ve been invited over today to see how she can be involved.

‘Hello, Mum.’ She opens her front door wearing a beaming smile. ‘Come on in, we’ve bought pastries.’

This is going to be one of those days where I eat too much of the wrong stuff and end the day still feeling famished — toast for breakfast, pastries for brunch and cake for tea. I can already feel the sugar crash lining itself up for tonight. Of course I could say no, but that would mean being impolite to Zoe and then to Michael — so, as Patty would say, I have to take one for the team.

James is in the kitchen dressed in running kit and he tells me that he’s going for a jog to keep out of our way. He gives Zoe a peck on the cheek as he heads out.

‘You’re both looking well,’ I tell my daughter, then ask for a herbal tea because I might have to eat pastry but I can’t face more coffee.

‘We’re happy.’ The smile on her face reaches right up to her eyes, which are gleaming.

I begin by showing Zoe some of the photos from Mum’s biker evening, including one of her straddled across the huge Harley trike, throwing the horns sign with her hands. An apple-cheeked lady attempting to look rebellious is as funny looking as it sounds.

‘You have to send that to me,’ says Zoe. ‘I’m having it as my screensaver. So, being a biker and looking ten years younger, is there anything else on her list?’

‘Everything seems to have come from something she’s seen on TV but we’re tackling one thing at a time.’ I wasn’t lying. Neither was I revealing what I’d rather not think about let alone discuss.

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