Page 69 of The Happiness Project

I don’t want this to turn into a battle of the sexes and I don’t actually want it to last a minute longer, so I tell everyone that even if there had been a washing machine mishap, Michael would still have been able to contact me through the shop. I tell everyone that I’m grateful for their concern but I’m happy to let matters rest.

‘No chance,’ says Mum. ‘You deserve an explanation.’

I protest that I don’t need one.

‘I’m quite curious though,’ says Charlie, getting agreement from everyone. ‘I say we let Mrs S keep up the surveillance and report back later.’

Dad looks over at me and I shrug defeat. In solidarity he says that he can’t continue as he’s busy. Mum throws him a furious look which I know means no supper for at least two days.

‘I’ll come with you,’ says Poppy. ‘He’s never met me.’

‘How on earth are you going to look inconspicuous?’ asks Mum.

‘Wait and see,’ they say, linking arms with her. ‘Just you watch — we’ll be the next Mulder and Scully.’

The reference is lost on Mum and I can’t see how hunting aliens has anything to do with Michael but I let it go.

We clear everyone out of the shop including the customer, who promises to come back in a couple of days for an update. I suggest to Patty that we head over to the wine bar to decompress.

‘I have a better idea,’ she tells me, pushing me towards a waiting taxi.

‘Not Clubbercise again — please,’ I say. ‘I’m not sure I could cope with that.’

‘Don’t worry, neither could I,’ Patty says as the taxi heads in the opposite direction to home.

We pull up outside a small social club on the edge of town. As we park I notice the other Granny-Okies are there too. Kath and Sheila hug us like old friends and say they’ve reserved a table at the front.

‘Front of what?’ I ask, looking at the place and guessing that the front of the room and the back aren’t that far apart.

We walk in and I’m right. It’s a tiny venue with a small stage at one end. The kind of club where comedians might debut and get heckled off stage, where punters would later brag that they saw such-and-such when they first started out — forgetting completely that they gave them a hard time.

Patty buys a bottle of wine for us and we sit at a small round table that does indeed have a scrap of paper with the word Reserved on it. It’s a weekday and the place isn’t exactly heaving so I doubt it was needed, but Kath seems excited. And then I guess why.

A pull-out poster stand is dragged onto stage announcing an act playing tonight — Getting Wetter, a tribute to Wet Wet Wet.

‘Just wait until you see Marti Pellow,’ gushes Kath. ‘He’s just like the real one — absolutely gorgeous.’

Now I’m a little excited too — who hasn’t had a crush on that handsome man at some point in their life? Although I’m not sure about that name.

Patty tells the girls that I need cheering up, which means I have first dibs on the Mr Pellow lookalike. I catch a glimpse of over my dead body on Kath’s face so quickly assure the girls that I want nothing to do with any man tonight. Kath looks slightly appeased but I guess she’ll keep a close eye on me. The first bottle of wine goes down far too quickly so Sheila and Kath get up to buy another. I know it’s a work night and I should be doing my best to stop it turning into a wild session, but right now I don’t care.

‘What do you think happened?’ Patty asks me while we’re alone. ‘Assuming you don’t believe the amnesia or dead in the canal theories. Why do you think he hasn’t called?’

I have of course pondered this and as I thought Michael was such a nice man, I can only think of reasons that play to that image.

‘Well, I’ve never lost a spouse like you both have,’ I reply, choosing my words carefully. ‘But when my divorce was finalised, people kept telling me to move on and I started to feel like a failure because I wasn’t sure I was ready.’

‘I remember,’ says Patty. ‘I felt that way too.’

‘So perhaps, coming to the New Year’s party was Michael bowing to pressure from other people. He tried to move on but realised that he wasn’t ready.’

‘But why not just tell you that?’

‘Because it sounds weak,’ I say. ‘He may even have had a really nice night but then he got home and felt guilty. It’s kind of difficult to explain that to someone you’ve just met.’

Patty doesn’t have time to respond as the girls arrive back with an ice bucket and a fresh bottle of Pinot Grigio. As our glasses are topped up, I notice that the room is filling and it’s pretty much all women. Kath is going to have far more competition than me tonight.

The lights in the room go down and the one stage spot lights up. There’s a whoop of delight from the audience behind us and Kath adjusts her hair. At the opening bars to one of the band’s biggest hits, some of the ladies rush to the front of the stage ready to start dancing.

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