Page 45 of The Happiness Project

I catch her eye and give her a ‘stop it’ shake of the head. She simply shrugs her innocence in return.

‘I was telling our chairman that you’d probably be able to secure a good deal at Monte Rei — it’s his dream course and we felt it would be a good trip to take for his retirement.’ David looks at me with eyes wide open, indicating that I have to say yes to this.

I nod and say that we can certainly look into it and we have taken golfers to Portugal before. I’m a bit fearful that the club are going to expect more of a discount than we’ll be able to secure but don’t say it.

‘It’s a good job David met you when he did,’ says the chairman. ‘The place needs a fresh set of ideas when I go.’

Patty chooses this moment to interrupt and tap David on the shoulder.

‘If I wanted to play here, would I have to bring my own bat and can you start anywhere on the pitch?’ she asks.

I snort but David looks horrified.

‘Patty is teasing,’ I tell him. ‘She knows full well it’s called a club and you play on a course.’

‘Actually,’ he replies, trying to sound light-hearted, ‘you can’t play at all unless you’re a member — whether you bring your bat, racquet or club. I could put in an application for you, what’s your handicap?’

‘My devastating good looks are often too distracting for those around me,’ says Patty without missing a beat. Even the chairman is amused now, but David looks flummoxed and I have to spare him any further embarrassment.

I take Patty by the arm and tell her I’ll see her back home; happily, she does as I ask so I can get back to discussing some travel bookings.

* * *

When I get home later, Patty is still up, sitting on the sofa with her arms folded. I say nothing but pop upstairs to get changed and when I come back she’s in the same position.

‘I think you terrified poor David,’ I tell her. ‘He’s not used to Patty in full flow. What did you think of him?’

‘Honestly?’ she asks, and my heart sinks a little.

‘Always,’ I reply.

‘I may be wrong,’ she says. Her tone is gentle so I know she’s worried she’s going to hurt me with her next words. ‘But I think he needs you to impress that chairman. And if he’s retiring then maybe David sees himself as the next one.’

‘What’s wrong with that?’ I ask, picturing myself on the arm of the chairman and quite enjoying that image.

‘Nothing if he wants the real you, who has friends like me and a mother who’s barmy,’ says Patty. ‘He looked terrified that we would do something to embarrass him, so I hope he doesn’t just want you for your discounts.’

‘Of course he doesn’t,’ I tell her. ‘It was my idea to present to the club and he’ll get used to my family — I’ll just have to introduce them slowly.’

‘Very slowly. I’d suggest you start with Zoe — the normal one.’ Patty stands, kisses me on the head and heads towards the stairs. ‘Sweet dreams.’

Chapter Twenty-Three: Feel Like a Woman

I have an important task to perform this morning and I call my mum to tell her what she has to do. As I expected, she’s not happy.

‘I don’t want to come out without any make-up on,’ she whines. ‘I would never do that normally and I want to look ten years younger than I really am, not like some frumpy version of me.’

I understand completely and am always bemused by before and after photographs where the person is simply frowning with slumped shoulders in the first and smiling with a brightly coloured top on in the second. Perhaps a smile is all it really takes to make us look and feel younger. It’s certainly cheaper than Botox.

She arrives at the travel agents in the early afternoon and, as expected, she’s far too glammed up for the task in hand. Although she wouldn’t take any notice of my instructions, Josie is not one to take no for an answer.

‘Come on, Mrs S,’ she says, taking off the beautiful blue scarf my mum wears to bring out her eyes. ‘You gotta give these beautician people something to work with, can’t have their job done for them by the time you get there.’

She leads Mum into the bathroom, where she stands like a petulant schoolgirl while Josie takes a cotton wool pad and cleanser to her make-up. I have to suppress a giggle as I remember all the times through the ages that Mum has stood wiping make-up off me, whether it was when I was five and had liberally applied her best lipstick to my lips, cheeks and eyelids or when I was fifteen and she was telling me that I looked like a floozy.

Once wiped clean of her make-up and stripped of her accessories, we take Mum out into the shop, where Charlie has gathered together some customers. With me taking the video on my phone and Josie doing the interviewing, we began that really awful section of 10 Years Younger where members of the public have to guess the poor victim/participant’s age. I always find this really cruel — those taking part have often gone through real trauma, and there we are bringing them down even further by telling them those events have taken their toll and they do indeed look ancient. That’s why we’re not going into the street and instead are using kind customers who understand what’s going on and know what to say.

‘Gorgeous cheekbones. I’d say she’s seventy-four,’ says the first, as instructed.

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