Page 57 of The Happiness Project

Our four-day stay here follows a similar routine each day; we visit one of Vienna’s stunning palaces or galleries in the morning and continue with our dance lessons in the afternoon. We take a cruise along the Danube, stroll through the parks with their colourful spring flowers and take in the Klimt exhibition at the amazing Upper Belvedere gallery. I also find some local micro-breweries where Dad can sample some Austrian beers and, of course, we make time to sample Vienna’s other famous export — the Sachertorte. I’d done my homework before leaving and knew that there were always queues at the Hotel Sacher. I’ve booked out the tea room for our group, and as well as tasting this delight, we’re treated to a glimpse into the kitchen, where chefs are preparing the famous glaze.

‘Just a glimpse,’ the maître d’hôtel tells us. ‘The original is a secret recipe known only to this hotel, where it was invented by sixteen-year-old chef Franz Sacher for an Austrian state banquet back in 1832.’

‘Was everyone in Austria called Franz?’ my mum whispers, getting a giggle from those nearby.

The maître d’ goes on to say that there are more showy ‘vulgar’ confections nowadays.

‘Like that harlot of a cake, the Black Forest Gateau.’ His look is one of humorous distaste. ‘In Vienna we create only elegance.’

I think of the buildings, the music, the dancing, and decide that elegance is the word that best describes this city.

The cake arrives with a dollop of cream and I take a small forkful, savouring the deep chocolate perfection — oh yes, I could definitely live here. I wonder if there are any golf courses for David?

* * *

On our final evening we have a grand ball where everyone can show off their new skills. Rather than eat and then dance, the school has transformed its studio and we’re having our final session together surrounded by glittering lights that bounce off the chandelier. Everyone is dressed up in evening wear, the women in long dresses and the men in tuxedos. They look amazing. As this trip is the result of Mum’s bucket list, the group stands to one side as she and Dad walk onto the floor to a round of applause. She’s wearing an ankle-length silvery dress with a lace bodice and sleeves; it’s gorgeous and pairs perfectly with her little silver sandals. Mum has certainly taken the advice she was given to heart and looks beautiful. The music starts and Dad holds out his hand to her, taking hold and pulling her in with his hand on her hip as instructed. At the beat, he waltzes her round the room, never taking his eyes off her. I’m so proud of him. This wasn’t his dream and I don’t think he would ever have chosen to do it, but he’s here and he’s learned his steps perfectly to make his wife’s dream come true. That’s true love for you.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Single Ladies

It feels like several weeks since we arrived home from Vienna but it’s only a matter of days. The world certainly seems to be spinning far faster than it was before we left. I went straight back to work the afternoon the flight arrived as Charlie said the phones were ringing off the hook and indeed they were. Dance lessons and bucket lists are now driving our sales and people really have some strange things they want to do.

‘I think I would rather die than do that,’ says Charlie as we look at the details of one request.

‘I think you’d die if you ever attempted it,’ I tell him. ‘A full-on heart attack if you ever looked down.’

We’re staring at the Glass Skywalk, which is on the side of Tianmen Mountain in Zhangjiajie National Forest Park in China. It goes around the outside of this sheer mountain drop and is only five feet wide with a glass floor so you can see exactly where you’d plummet to your death. It is utterly terrifying.

‘How on earth did they ever build something like that?’ I ask.

‘Why is the more pertinent question,’ adds Charlie.

‘Oh come on, guys, it’ll be fun,’ says Josie, looking over our shoulders. ‘I’d give it a go.’

As she’s not in the slightest bit disturbed by sending one of our clients to certain death, we leave her to arrange it.

It’s the golf club fundraising do tonight and, reminding the others not to be late, I clock off exactly on closing to go and get ready. I know that I need to look gorgeous if I’m standing alongside the future chairman of the club and I’ve contacted the hairdresser who performed the miracle on Mum to work her magic on me.

Patty isn’t home when I get back but she’s left me a little note telling me to have a lovely time and she’s signed the bottom with lots of kisses. She wants me to know that despite her misgivings, she’s rooting for me, and I hug the note to my chest. I do my make-up, admiring the shine and bounce my hair now has; I’ve had a lot of fun in the past few days and I genuinely believe I look younger because of it. My frown lines have softened for a start, and as I smooth a little foundation across my forehead, I wonder whether that’s the secret to eternal youth — simply having a good time. It certainly hasn’t done Patty any harm. My dress is fresh from the dry cleaners having had a trip to Vienna with me. It seems to have soaked up some of that Austrian elegance, and as I step into my shoes I look at myself in the mirror.

‘Not bad, Bo-Peep,’ I tell my reflection. ‘I’d certainly take you for a spin around the floor.’

Dad is picking me up, and on the dot of seven o’clock, he and Mum pull up and Dad honks the horn from the end of the driveway. Grabbing a shawl and my clutch bag, I hurry to meet them. I’m wearing my waltzing shoes, which aren’t the most beautiful pair that I have, but I know that I can dance in them and hope there’s a chance to show off my new skills.

‘You look lovely, sweetheart,’ Dad says to me as I climb into the back seat.

‘We’re like sisters,’ adds Mum, which I know is a compliment.

‘How often does a man my age get to escort two beautiful ladies for the evening?’ Dad continues as he closes the door.

‘Flatterer,’ I reply. ‘But keep it coming.’

It isn’t a long drive and we get there just as Peter, Charlie and Josie are pulling up in their taxi. They don’t look very happy though.

‘What’s up?’ I ask as we approach them.

‘Hiccup on the wedding front,’ says Peter with a purposefully calm tone. ‘Our preferred venue has double-booked and they’ve told us they can’t do the date.’

‘Can they do another date?’ I ask.

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