Page 64 of The Happiness Project

‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘As much as they like Poppy, I think they were aiming for romantic rather than theatrical.’

‘I’d let Poppy officiate,’ continues Josie and I look at her trying to hide a tiny surge of panic.

‘Are you and Matt . . . ?’ I ask.

‘Noooo — but if we were, then I’d ask Poppy,’ she says. ‘It would be seriously cool.’

I know it’s irrational but I’m hypersensitive to all my friends marrying and moving in together. I love them all dearly but am starting to feel like a spare part and would at least like to have something of my own before they’re all settled down.

When Peter and Charlie emerge an hour later, they have broad smiles on their faces.

‘It’s all sorted?’ I ask with eager excitement.

‘Go on, tell us. What sort of wedding will it be?’ asks Josie.

Poppy appears and simply swipes an imaginary zip across their lips.

‘It’ll be memorable, and you lot need to glam up to the nines,’ is all they’ll say before sauntering out of the shop, hips swinging.

I watch as Poppy strides along the high street, where literally everyone they pass turns to look and a few people ask for selfies. It really does take incredible bravery and confidence to be yourself.

Peter insists on Charlie coming home with him immediately, saying that he knows his fiancé is incapable of keeping any secrets.

‘Damn,’ says Josie. ‘We were banking on Charlie breaking after one bout of tickling.’

‘I doubt it would take that much, judging by his expression,’ I add. ‘You’re just bursting to tell us, aren’t you?’

He nods; his little cheeks are flushed and his eyes wide. This man is so excited he would have spilled everything the second Peter was out of the door.

We have a late-afternoon flurry of customers booking last-minute Easter breaks to keep Josie and I busy. As I arrange them, noting the dates, I realise Patty will be away and I’ll be in her big house on my own. I know I need to make more effort with my other friends so that I can build a social life without her both for that month and for when she comes back with Jack.

As soon as we lock the door to the shop, I call Caroline and ask if she fancies going for a drink or to see a film one night.

‘I’d love to,’ she says. ‘Not this week as Ed is whisking me away somewhere — can I call you when I get back?’

I say of course and hope that she has a lovely time.

Then I look up Sarah’s number and check the time before calling her. It’s nearly six so she should be closing up too by now.

‘Hello, Angie,’ she says, sounding breathless. ‘How lovely to hear from you.’

It boosts my ego to hear that someone is really pleased I’ve called. Perhaps she’s in the same situation I am and we can become best buddies. I imagine us strolling along the canal laughing together.

(I have a tendency to do this — one tiny indication that things are going well and I extrapolate to the nth degree. If the man in the florist smiles at me I instantly picture myself as his partner, fixing him a coffee at 5 a.m. before he heads off to the flower market. He always leaves me a rose on the pillow too. I think this flaw in my personality comes from believing my childhood book of fairy tales was in fact an encyclopaedia).

Anyway, getting back to Sarah, we exchange some pleasantries about how busy our days have been and then I ask her if she’d like to go out.

‘Aggh,’ she replies, bringing my best buddy dream to a crashing halt. ‘I’d love to but you’ll never guess what? I’ve got a date! Can I call you later?’

She sounds so happy that I shouldn’t begrudge her and I don’t. I repeat what I’ve just said to Caroline and after the call, scroll through my contacts. Yep — that’s it confirmed. Every single friend I have is officially coupled up.

Chapter Thirty-Two: The Spy Who Loved Me

‘You need to bunk off for the afternoon,’ my mum whispers down the phone.

‘I can’t,’ I tell her huffily.

‘Yes, you can, you’re the boss,’ she insists.

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