Page 39 of The Happiness Project

The wardrobe door opens and Patty walks out looking an absolute vision.

‘Wow,’ says the assistant. ‘Can I take a picture for our Instagram?’

Patty agrees, doing a few poses, and the purchase is made. She decides she’s not going to take it off.

‘It’s going to be perfect for the dance lessons,’ I tell her. We’re heading there later this afternoon with the customers who have already booked onto the Vienna trip.

‘It makes me feel fabulous, and who knows, I might even dance better in this.’ We leave the store with the clothes she put on this morning in the shop’s brown paper bag. She hasn’t even put her coat back on; it’s slung over her arm for the remainder of the walk to the pub.

‘It’s amazing how great clothes can make you feel, isn’t it? As if somehow a dress finds the real you hidden underneath the sensible knitwear.’

I’m reminiscing about my own post-divorce transformation last year. After realising the trauma had left me looking ancient, I had the whole makeover and vowed I’d never let myself go again. While I’m not right back at ground zero, I wouldn’t exactly say that I’m feeling like the dynamic Bo-Peep who rose from the ashes.

‘Is that why you’re currently in a polyester mix when I know you have a fabulous cashmere back home?’ asks Patty, raising her eyebrows at me.

‘Busted,’ I reply. ‘It just doesn’t feel like a cashmere day.’

Our first activity for the day is brunch. We reach the pub and are taken to our reserved table; the lighting is low, and against the matte grey walls, Patty and her dress certainly stand out. A few people look up as we pass and I catch some admiring glances in Patty’s direction from both men and women. I’m happy to see the place is busy and I contemplate how the trend for brunches must have saved many a pub. The advantage of this place over a café is that we can accompany our eggs with a Buck’s Fizz and that’s what we plan to do. It was booked as a celebration of Patty’s return to the stage, and as the gig went wonderfully well, the glass of bubbly seems very apt. It arrives shortly after we sit down and we toast last night’s great performance.

‘And here’s to your coming adventures on the high seas,’ I add.

‘I know,’ exclaims Patty with a little shudder. ‘Not long now and I’ll be back on that ship. I’m excited and nervous at the same time.’

‘It’s not like you to be nervous,’ I say as I read the menu, even though I know what I’m ordering.

‘I might not show it,’ Patty says. ‘But I get butterflies before I get on stage. Once I get going and we’re into the first song it’s okay, but I was talking more about seeing Jack again.’

I look up at her in surprise.

‘It’s one thing flirting remotely and another spending every day together in a floating bathtub,’ she says.

‘I’m sure the cruise operator would be delighted to hear his luxury vessel described like that.’ I laugh then add, ‘I thought you and Jack got on brilliantly?’

‘We do and we did,’ Patty replies. ‘Honestly, when we got together I finally understood why they cut to a firework montage in all those romcoms — it was amazing, but he’ll have been away from me for months and he might be thinking that I was great in small doses but maybe not for the long haul.’

‘I’m sure he wouldn’t have bothered calling you every day if that were the case.’ We both order our Eggs Royale from the waitress. ‘And I’m equally sure that you’ll pick up where you left off, unless you’re having doubts about him?’

‘God, no — I’ve finally met a man who tells me he can cope with all this.’ She brushes her hands down either side of her body. ‘I’m not letting that go in a hurry.’

I know it hasn’t only been about finding someone who could cope with Patty’s massive personality, it’s also been about her being ready to date again. A feeling I know only too well.

‘So, can this David cope with all of you?’ Patty asks, interrupting my train of thought.

‘I’m not sure there’s as much of me to cope with,’ I say light-heartedly.

‘There was last year,’ says Patty. ‘You were flying by the end of the year, and if you don’t mind me saying, you seem a little flat this year. Am I wrong?’

I shake my head as I can feel tiny tears prickling at the edge of my eyes. I take a deep breath and swallow them away. Happily, the food arrives and we both exclaim our delight a little too enthusiastically. It’s as if we’ve never seen a poached egg before — although, as I cut into the firm whites and let the soft yolk ooze over the smoked salmon, I can see it is a perfectly cooked one.

‘How come I can never get this just right,’ I say, letting the flavour luxuriate in my mouth. ‘It’s either all undercooked or all rock solid.’

‘We were made for loving, not cooking,’ replies Patty. ‘Now, back to my question . . .’

‘Yes,’ I say, nodding but not looking up. ‘It feels flat. I had this huge journey last year picking myself up from rock bottom, and when the year ended on such a high, I thought it would just keep climbing but it hasn’t — not for me anyway.’

Those final four words come out more barbed than I’d intended and I’m aware how bitter I sound. I look up at Patty.

‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘That sounded awful. It’s just that it felt as if we were on that journey together and we both had a fabulous New Year, and then you’ve continued to soar while I flounder and I’m scared I might lose you. Even Mum has a second wind — she was a sample-snaffling old woman last year and now she’s a biker who wants an affair!’

---