Page 55 of The Happiness Project

‘Is it a mistake?’ she asks. ‘I mean, it’s only a mistake if you end up buying a house together or giving him all of your money for a sure-fire investment — you’d never do that, would you?’

‘Of course not. We’ve only known each other a few weeks. You’re making him sound like a con artist. If he declares undying love and says we could be married but he needs ten thousand pounds for a visa then I’ll let you know.’

‘Good, and if Jack does that I’ll let you know. Seriously, though, how do you feel about him?’

I pause and think about it, trying to find the right word, but unfortunately only one comes to mind.

‘He is nice,’ I say. ‘We only have a couple of things in common but he’s easy to get on with.’

‘What do you have in common?’

I tell her about the conversation we had in the tapas bar.

‘So the thing you have in common was being young in the eighties?’

‘That’s not fair,’ I say. ‘Do you have something against him? You’ve only met him once and seem to have formed an instant opinion. I wouldn’t dream of saying all this about anyone you dated. What do you and Jack have in common? He’s a doctor and you were an air stewardess. He has kids and grandkids while you hate children.’

‘It’s a spark,’ she says, looking quite annoyed. ‘There’s a spark between us and it’s enough to light a flame — we laugh together and have had incredible chemistry from the start.’

‘Love isn’t always like that,’ I tell her. ‘Sometimes you have to nurture it and let it grow slowly. It’s as much about companionship at our age.’

Patty looks at me as if I’ve grown two heads.

‘It isn’t, Bo,’ she says. ‘You’re not old and you’re as entitled to passion and excitement as you ever were. You’re right in that I don’t know David but please be honest with yourself, and if the spark isn’t there then no amount of nurturing or blowing on it will ever create a fire. Don’t settle for second best.’

I’m taken aback by her words — angry, hurt and shocked. It’s all right for her, she’ll be off on an adventure with the man she loves, leaving me here in a house that isn’t mine. I dread her coming home and telling me he’s moving in. She’ll let me stay but I’ll be the third wheel and I can picture us out with all our friends — all couples except me. They’ll be kind and include me but will have those coupley conversations and always use we rather than I.

I can see it all happening. I’m about to be left behind by everyone.

She’s wrong about David; I can bring him into our fold. Maybe Patty is too much for an introduction but perhaps he’d get on better with Peter and Charlie. Peter is a well-known local businessman so they may have things in common, although I doubt David ever read the Jackie annual. I’m going to show Patty that nice is a perfectly good launch point for any relationship.

‘I haven’t — goodnight,’ I tell her, taking my tea and marching up to bed.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: This Means Nothing to Me . . .

As we’re waiting in the departure lounge, I call Kathryn and book a table for eight at the golf club fundraiser. She’s delighted and asks whether I’d also like to offer a prize for the raffle. I laugh as this is exactly what I told her to do — always push a corporate booking for a little extra. Charlie and I had already decided that we would offer a prize, so I tell her we’ll donate a discount voucher for bookings over autumn as that’s really the only thing we can afford to give away. I know David will have to be seated with the rest of the committee, so I’ll be taking Peter and Charlie, Caroline and Ed, Mum and Dad, and Josie, who will be partnering with me for the evening. Patty is rehearsing and it’s been on the calendar for some time, so I know it’s not simply an excuse. I actually think she’d have jumped at the opportunity to point out how unsuitable David is. Now all my other friends can enjoy an evening with him and tell Patty she’s wrong.

Happy that it’s sorted, I turn my attention to my fellow travellers, who are all extremely excited by the trip to Vienna. I approach the little group, who are currently hanging on every word Felipe says — perhaps it’s not the lure of this beautiful Austrian city that has them excited after all.

‘What’s going on here?’ I ask my mum, who is as enthralled as everyone else.

‘Felipe was just showing us how posture and simply holding yourself up properly makes you look like a dancer even before you start moving.’ She pulls her shoulders back and sticks her chest out.

‘It’s true,’ says Felipe. ‘Try it; imagine a piece of string on the top of your head pulling your whole body up tall.’

Of course, we’re all doing this now as well as some others in the departure lounge who are just listening in.

‘Now, hold this position and remember to breathe,’ adds our dance instructor.

That’s the part I’d forgotten, and when I exhale that imaginary piece of string seems to snap and my chest is facing the floor again. I’m told it just needs practise but I can’t imagine ever being able to hold myself tall, breathe and move my feet in a co-ordinated way. Not all at once. Felipe walks among our group, pulling shoulders back and lifting chins upwards and I can see that they’re already loving all of this. Well, who wouldn’t?

We’re called to board and Dad takes Mum on his arm and walks her towards the boarding bridge. She still looks absolutely amazing after the makeover and the look in their eyes is of a love sixty years in the making. I won’t ever get there, but with a fair wind I might still have a thirty-year romance in me. I pull myself up tall as Felipe has shown us and make my way onto the plane with what I hope is a graceful glide. Of course, not watching my feet, I trip over as it slopes downwards and go flying into the man in front of me. Luckily, he’s more sturdy than me, so we don’t turn the passenger queue into a domino rally. I thank him for catching me and focus on walking properly rather than gliding.

After a smooth flight and an easy transfer, we start with a tour of Vienna city centre on a sunny spring morning. And it is beautiful.

‘You see photographs of the main squares and palaces but you assume that it’s not all like this,’ says Dad, echoing my thoughts completely.

‘I feel like I should be wearing a period costume,’ I say.

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