Page 50 of The Happiness Project

‘What should I wear?’ he says.

‘Well, it’s not actually a nightclub, so I’m guessing sportswear.’ Is the answer not obvious?

‘I mean what colour,’ he replies. ‘I might have a dayglow vest from when I was in Ibiza but not sure whether it’ll be a bit snug now.’

‘Maybe just white?’ I suggest, guessing that any fashion advice I give will be dismissed as too dull.

I’m shocked when Charlie nods and tells me that would work as the lights might pick it up. When asked what colour I’m wearing, I can honestly reply black as I truly do not want the lights to pick me up at all.

I head home and rummage through a holdall of clothes that I just dumped in the bottom of the wardrobe when I moved in here. It contains all the things you buy because you might need them one day — scarves, belts and blouses in colours I wouldn’t normally wear but was feeling adventurous on the day. It also contains a pair of leggings and a black sports vest that I bought last year. They’re not well worn. As I dig, I realise that I’d forgotten I owned most of these things and the sensible thing to do would be to take the whole bag to the charity shop and leave it there. I know I wouldn’t miss a single item. However, in the split second it would take to leave the bag out ready to be donated, I have second thoughts and ram it back into the wardrobe ready to be carted to another house when I eventually move.

I do have a good pair of trainers, and when I’m kitted out I think I look quite sporty. I put my hair into a ponytail and give it a little swish. I always think women who have big swishy ponytails look far more sporty than those who don’t, so if my body doesn’t look fit, at least my hair will. I zip a hoodie over the top to complete my outfit then head downstairs and check the address of the sports centre we’re going to. I notice that it’s not far from Cross Road and the rental house I first moved into after the divorce, the road that Michael still lives in.

I check my watch and know that I have time to make a diversion past his house. It’s almost on the way and I’m obviously dressed for the gym so could honestly say that I was passing by and thought I’d see how he was. Patty would kill me for doing this but I need to know. I need to look him in the eye and ask why he stood me up and why he’s been ghosting me. My best friend would tell me to simply move on. I have done and this is simply getting an answer. I’m not picking at the wound, I’m just checking to see that it’s healing nicely. I won’t get away with doing this after the class as Patty will probably follow me home, so I won’t be able to make the detour. Nope, it has to be now.

I grab my water bottle and keys then rush out to the car with my heart racing. I guess it’s good to build up to the class anyway.

I know my way to Cross Road so head straight there, practising my greeting as I go.

‘Hi, there,’ I say out loud to the empty car. ‘I was just on my way to the gym and thought I’d check that you’re okay?’

Or maybe I should be more direct and less enthusiastic.

‘Michael, hello.’ This time my voice is serious. ‘As you haven’t been in touch, I wondered whether you’ve been ill or had an accident?’

Hmm, if I’d been that concerned wouldn’t I have called around earlier?

‘What happened?’ I yell into the rear-view mirror. ‘One minute we’re snogging at midnight and the next you’ve turned into a pumpkin.’

I’m turning into Cross Road before I’ve perfected any of them and decide the first option is the one to go with. I park outside his house and take a swig of water from my bottle as my throat is suddenly incredibly dry. His car is parked in the drive so I guess he’s home, but so far I haven’t seen him peering out any of the windows. I exhale, open the car door and walk assertively down the drive then ring his bell. There’s no answer so I try again and, getting braver, I walk over to his living room window and peer in. No sign of life. I feel deflated as I walk back towards the car; I was ready for answers and I’m not getting them today. As I reach the car, his neighbour comes out of her house and asks if I’m looking for Michael. I reply that I am and ask if she knows when he’ll be back.

‘Oh, no idea,’ she says. ‘He might be out with his lady friend.’

My heart stops racing and skips a beat. I thank her and say I’ll call some other time. I turn down her offer of leaving a message for him. I guess I have my answer after all; he really does have someone else. As indeed do I.

On the drive to the sports centre I’m filled with an emotion that I know only too well. It’s that moment when you just have to accept that something is over or isn’t going to happen. I think it’s the acceptance part of grieving and I felt it last year when my ex-husband laughed at my idea that he might want to get back together with me. I’d been convinced that he was leaving little hints at reconciliation but it turned out that I was deluded. I recall now the moment it actually sunk in for real — it was over and Patty was there to pick me up. Of course, this is nothing like that and I barely know Michael, but I guess a part of me was hoping we could be friends. In the car I put on some music and sit up straight. His loss, I tell myself as I leave the street and head towards the sports centre.

Patty is already there in her leggings and black T-shirt. I’m surprised she isn’t wearing a louder outfit and tell her this. She pulls out glow sticks and head boppers for all of us.

‘I think we’ll stand out in these,’ she says.

However, as the centre fills with people obviously going to the class, I’m not sure that we will; everyone looks up for a party rather than an exercise class and the excitement is infectious. Charlie turns up in a bright white vest and a glow-in-the-dark necklace.

‘Oh, where did you get that?’ asks Patty enviously as she hands him the other accessories.

‘The pet department,’ he says proudly. ‘They’re for when you walk your dog in winter.’

Bedecked with our boppers, dog collar and glow sticks we look like Christmas trees but so does everyone else. The doors open to the class and loud dance music fills the corridor. Whooping, everyone piles into the dark room and the instructor on stage gets us moving almost instantly.

The beat is very fast and the choreography takes a lot of getting used to, but it’s fun. I stand on Patty’s toes at least once and get trodden on by Charlie in return but we’re giving it all we have, and as I turn to my friends and see the smiles on their faces I can’t help but smile broadly back. I really do have the best people in my life, so whoever this lady friend is, Michael can keep her.

Chapter Twenty-Six: Eine Kleine Nachtmusik

‘Where are you going?’ asks Patty as I grab my coat and bag. ‘No, wait, let me guess — the golf course?’

‘’Fraid so,’ I tell her. ‘They want help setting up a fashion show like we did for Mum. I’m taking them through the finer points of detail and the likely revenues they’ll get.’

‘Don’t they have someone who can do all that?’

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