Page 31 of The Happiness Project

‘Now, Patty, let’s hear what you’ll be doing for your first gig,’ I say.

‘With pleasure,’ she says. ‘I like nothing better than a captive audience.’

She begins to sing loudly and out of tune just to keep the mood light, but as we wind our way through the Howgills and the road ahead turns very dark, I feel her hand reach over to me and give my arm a rub. There’s just no fooling my best friend.

Chapter Sixteen: Family Fortunes

‘Does your mum know the difference between YouTube and a TV channel?’ asks Josie one day when the travel agency is quiet.

‘I know she’s watched YouTube,’ I say. ‘So I’m sure she knows it’s not the BBC, but having it on the smart TV confuses her. Why?’

‘I was just thinking about her bucket list item to get on TV and wondered if she’d be happy with us creating a quiz show of our own and filming it. I got a board game of that show Family Fortunes and it includes the buzzer thing.’

‘She loves that show. But I don’t think she’ll be satisfied with a bargain-basement version.’

‘Oooh,’ exclaims Charlie, swirling his computer screen around. Josie and I get up to see what has excited him so much. He’s on a website about applying for quiz shows.

‘Look at this,’ he says. ‘By happy coincidence, Family Fortunes are recruiting contestants at this very moment.’

My heart sinks at the thought of Mum dragging all of us into her fantasy. I can’t imagine Dad or Zoe being delighted at the prospect either. Charlie notes the look on my face and adds, ‘I’ll do it with her — maybe I could say I’m her nephew.’

‘And I could be her niece,’ adds Josie excitedly.

It seems that Mum’s list has hit on a few things that other people want to get on board with and it took her to mention them before we all came out of the woodwork. It makes me wonder how many desires lie latent and possibly never indulged because we don’t make time for them.

We huddle around Charlie’s PC to see which other shows are listed as needing contestants. Unfortunately, Catchphrase isn’t one of them, but there is an article about how to apply for these shows. I skim it now but will read it properly when I’m at home; the writer says there’s about a one in ten chance of getting on a show, which seems like incredibly good odds to me. I realise as I’m reading this that I’m disappointed; I had hoped there’d be no chance of my mother getting selected and showing us up to the whole nation. I do know that’s incredibly unfair of me considering my post-divorce meltdown went viral online and caused the type of embarrassment I’m imagining for my own daughter.

‘I think we would stand a good chance,’ says Charlie. ‘A gay man, an Aussie and a pensioner — we’ve covered most of the bases and your mum would be hilarious as the matriarch.’

The problem is that I know she would.

‘I’ve got a brilliant idea for our application,’ says Josie.

‘And if we get it, we might be able to get audience tickets for the Mercury Travel Club members,’ adds Charlie. ‘Maybe to use in a prize draw.’

So it looks like the quiz train is rolling and it’s not going to stop.

‘Can I leave this bucket list item up to you two?’ I ask, getting only a nod because they’re both totally engrossed in how to make this happen. The little bell on our door chimes and a couple walks in.

‘I’ll, err, serve these customers, shall I?’

Charlie looks up and gives the couple a beaming smile and offers to get them a coffee. Once they’re settled opposite me with their drinks, he heads straight back to the PC and into a deep conspiratorial conversation with Josie.

Throughout the day I make good progress with the dance holidays and think I should be able to tie up the loose ends and announce the full details by the end of the week. Charlie and Josie stay in close cahoots, although their plotting is occasionally interrupted by the inconvenience of customers. However, I can see by the smiles on their faces as we close up that they believe they have this bucket list item nailed.

‘Do you think your dad would want to be on the show?’ asks Charlie. ‘There’s always a sensible one to balance the others — they can’t all be wacky.’

‘Of course, your mum would still be team captain,’ adds Josie.

As if it were ever in doubt. Sometimes, when I consider the personalities of those around me, I wonder whether Patty and I weren’t accidentally swapped at birth. She’s far more like my mother than I will ever be.

‘I honestly don’t know, but he loves a quiz and if you’re really going to do this, you may as well ask him,’ I tell them.

They clap their hands together in excitement.

‘We need five members and we have your mum, dad, me and Josie — so there’s a space for you, Angie, and you are actually family,’ says Charlie, tentatively clutching his hands together in front of him with his head tilted coyly like some naughty schoolgirl.

I know instantly which role I would play — the one who’s the butt of all the jokes. I can just picture my mother berating me on live TV because I can’t name five things you do in a tent or whatever ridiculous question would be asked. I tell them that I’m going nowhere near the stage but I will accompany the Mercury Travel Club members if they get accepted and we get audience tickets.

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