Page 61 of The Happiness Project

‘You snooze, you lose,’ Mum says to me, putting them all in the oven then directing us into the living room. ‘They’ll be twenty minutes, now tell me what this is all about.’

Patty sits down on the sofa beside Mum, shows her the dating app and explains what needs to be done. Basically, Mum needs to choose a photo that she’s happy with and answer the questions about what she’s looking for.

‘Friendship or romance?’ asks Patty.

‘Definitely romance,’ says Mum.

‘Dark or blond?’

‘Dark,’ replies Mum. ‘He has to have hair on his head but not in his ears.’

Patty snorts and says that there isn’t really a section to input that.

‘We’ll say “well-groomed”,’ she suggests. ‘That way he’ll know he has to get any ear or nose hair trimmed.’

Mum is adding that he can’t bite his fingernails or have a ponytail as I stand and head into the kitchen. I check on the progress of the delightful gourmet meals that seem to be bubbling along in their tinfoil containers.

‘Ten minutes,’ I shout from the doorway, looking in to see how they’re doing. Mum and Patty seem to be having a deeply secret conversation and that worries me.

‘What are you two conspiring about?’ I ask, coming up behind them. They both jump out of their skins and rush to hide something.

‘Nothing that need concern you,’ says Mum. ‘Why don’t you set the table for us?’

She rubs my arm and stares up at me, letting me know that I’m expected to leave them to it. I shake my head and head back to the kitchen. I feel like Cinderella being banished by the ugly sisters.

The timer on the oven pings, so I shout that things are ready and risk third-degree burns extracting these floppy foil cases. I upturn each dish into a bowl and muse how very similar they all look upside down. Patty’s curry is less yellow than Mum’s pasta but the overall consistency is pretty similar.

‘Would you like a glass of wine with this?’ asks Mum, reaching into the fridge and pulling out a bottle of white. ‘I think I will.’

‘It might make it more edible,’ I say, poking through mine in search of the one prawn that is so clearly depicted on the packaging photo. I feel an enormous sense of victory when I find it and spear it with my fork.

Mum pours us both a small glass and gets Patty a sparkling water as she’s driving home, then sits down and starts eating.

‘I think you did the right thing last night,’ says Mum as she pats the edge of her mouth with a napkin. ‘He wasn’t your sort really.’

So that’s what they were talking about; Patty has told Mum that I called it a day with David.

‘I know.’ I’m trying to sound like a grown-up. ‘And it’s not as if it had progressed beyond a couple of meals.’

‘Well, if this dating app works for me then you might be able to give it a go.’

‘It’s for “seniors”,’ I reply. ‘I’m not quite one of those yet.’

‘You might be by the time you find a man,’ says Mum with a huge laugh, getting a round of applause from Patty.

‘Thanks a bunch, you two.’ I smile. You really cannot wallow for too long with this pair.

‘And trust me,’ Mum continues, ‘you had a lucky escape getting rid of a golfer. My neighbour three doors down went out with a golfer once and she said it was awful.’

‘Why was that?’ asks Patty. She really should know by now not to encourage Mum’s tales.

‘She was always up for hours before one of his tournaments.’ Mum gives a weary shake of the head. ‘That man had her up all night polishing his balls. He was never satisfied.’

Both Patty and I choke on our mouthfuls, trying to keep them down. Mum, of course, looks at us in all innocence but she knows what she’s said.

We just can’t stop laughing and every time one of us gets hold of herself, she looks at the other two and collapses into hysterics again. My sides and cheeks are aching when Dad comes back in through the door.

‘It looks like you’ve had fun,’ he says, kissing the top of Mum’s head.

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