Page 70 of The Happiness Project

The other band members appear to a muted response, which I guess they must all be used to now, and then Marti appears and everyone goes wild. And with good reason. This man is extremely handsome and has that broad smile that made the real Marti very popular.

‘Sweet Little Mystery’ is their opening track and immediately everyone is dancing like it’s 1987 again. Kath and Sheila are up immediately, elbowing their way to the front, but Patty and I are happy to sway along from a seated position.

‘Are these guys repped by your agent?’ I ask Patty when there’s a break between songs.

‘Yes, and they’re on the cruise ship too. They’re doing the whole summer though.’

‘Kath will be happy about that,’ I comment with a laugh.

‘To Kath getting wetter,’ says Patty, raising her glass to clink. I can’t because I’ve snorted with laughter so hard that the sip I’ve just taken is threatening to come down my nose.

The band run through a medley of their biggest hits, ending with ‘Goodnight Girl’, where Marti really works the audience, walking into them and taking the hand of one lady then the next. He twirls them romantically then kisses their hand before moving onto the next. They all seem to love this, and happily for Kath, he reaches her last and brings her up onto the little stage. For the instrumental at the end of the song he pulls her into a close slow dance, which she evidently enjoys. As it ends, he bows to her and helps her off the stage then turns to the audience and blows kisses to them. They erupt with applause, proving that a man with manners can flirt with multiple women in one night and get away with it.

I’ve had a lovely night and tell the girls this as I say goodbye. Patty is still inside having a word with Marti and the band but comes out shortly afterwards.

‘Checking their terms and conditions?’ I ask, knowing that Patty is pretty hot on ensuring she gets as good a room as anyone else.

‘Something like that,’ she says in a vague, dismissive way.

Our taxi pulls up and we head home. On the way I can see that she’s messaging Marti but she won’t tell me why.

‘Just business,’ she says. ‘You’ll see soon enough.’

Chapter Thirty-Four: Homeward Bound

With the mystery of my vanishing love life now firmly in the hands of others (so it seems), it’s good to get a phone call that enables me to grasp hold of my own destiny without any outside interference.

‘Ms Shepherd?’ says the voice on the other end of the line. ‘We have something you might be very interested in.’

And indeed I am. It’s the estate agent telling me that an apartment has just come up for sale. They haven’t advertised it yet but they expect lots of interest when they do. I know that’s just the sales pitch — I do it myself. I tell customers that I can’t hold an offer price much longer or I can’t guarantee the deluxe suite unless they book today. We all do it and I’m not fooled, but I am extremely keen because when they email through the address, I know that it’s the mansion house that I saw and loved last year. I hold my voice steady as I arrange to view it early that evening and ask them to hold off advertising it if they can. This is me also playing the game as I’m guessing if it’s just come on their books, they haven’t done the floor plan or the detailed description so there’s no way it’ll be advertised before the evening.

I’m going to be on tenterhooks all day but fortunately there’s no chaos occurring in the shop. Mercury Travel is a happy place today; Charlie is singing to himself as he types away confirming bookings, and he’s making lots of them thanks to that cheery disposition. Customers seem to be swept up in his joyfulness and say yes to all of his suggestions. Added to this, he tells us that his wedding plans are going very well but he won’t reveal the details to anyone and he’s revelling in the secrecy. He has told us that the dress code is 1950s glamour, which is both easy and flattering so I’m delighted. Josie and I have guessed that he’s going for a Mad Men theme as that’s one of his favourite TV shows, but his lips are sealed. Whatever it is, I hope he has some of those crystal champagne coupes. I think they’re so elegant but have always been too afraid to buy a set, knowing that I’ll likely break them within weeks. Come closing time, I tidy up promptly and tell the others that I have to go. They wish me luck and look as if they’re about to settle in for a post-work coffee and chat. I sincerely hope it’s going to be about the wedding but I daresay my life will be discussed too.

This evening, I don’t care. I’m on my way to see a place I would have been terrified to live in last year. Terrified because back then I felt it was too good for me; all I had was a failed marriage and a fledgling business to my name. I remember feeling a fraud just looking around the place. Now things have moved on. We won the Business Award I coveted and Mercury has a fabulous reputation with five star reviews all the way. Okay, so the relationship stuff seems to roll from bad to worse, but I can’t wait for all the stars to align, can I? Perhaps I’ll start to succeed in love when I’m in my own place but if I’m destined to live alone then this is the kind of place to do it.

I reach the address in Didsbury and turn into the grounds. Grounds!!! I’d have grounds! I don’t think I’d ever tire of saying that. I’ll have a huge lawn that someone else looks after — how perfect. The estate agent’s little electric car is already there, so after parking up, I do a little tidy-up in the mirror to check that I look like a woman who means business and then stroll assertively towards her, holding out my hand for her to shake. We walk through the grand doorway into the beautiful Georgian hallway and through to the apartment that is for sale. Opening the door, I get a frisson of excitement running right through me; it’s a mirror image of the one I fell in love with last year. It has the high ceilings, spacious rooms and period features that I remember, and a fireplace where I pictured my Business Award trophy sitting. I look around with the agent and then on my own, opening the French windows to the private patio, now completely able to see myself living here. I feel calm and at home — as if this place has been waiting for me to feel ready.

‘Okay,’ I tell the agent. ‘What’s the asking price?’

She tells me what they’re thinking of putting it on for and it’s higher than last year but still within the limits of my divorce settlement. I nod sagely and try to look as if I’m considering what she’s said but there’s no point in me pretending — I want this place.

‘I’ll give you five thousand more, cash, with no chain and I’ll allow the vendor to set the moving date, but I need my offer accepted today with no further viewings permitted,’ I tell her assertively.

She looks slightly startled but agrees to call the vendor and I stand tall, prompting her to do it right now. She moves into the grounds so I can’t hear the conversation, while I sit on the huge sofa imagining that I live here already. The agent comes back into the room ten minutes later with a big smile on her face, so I know it’s a done deal.

‘They’ve accepted your offer,’ she says. ‘Congratulations, Ms Shepherd, you have a lovely new home.’

After signing some paperwork I head to the shop and pick up a bottle of champagne. I feel fabulous that I’ve actually done something for myself at last. And none of my friends or family were around to encourage or otherwise. It’s as if I’ve taken the stabilisers off my ability to make decisions. All the way back to Patty’s I sing Helen Reddy’s ‘I Am Woman’ over and over again and I yell that I’m strong, that I’m invincible, and I know this time I’m not faking it.

I’ve watched cartoons where the main character is in full flow — doing something they love or just running fast and then all of a sudden they have to screech to a halt as they hit an obstacle in their way. This happens when I walk into Patty’s still singing and holding out the bottle of champagne. I feel my whole being screeching to a full stop as I see the faces of Patty, Poppy and Mum staring back at me. I find myself glued to the spot feeling like Wile E. Coyote just waiting for an anvil to fall on my head.

‘Thank goodness you’re back,’ says Mum. ‘We have news.’

I hold the champagne bottle aloft and tell them I have news too but that’s ignored. Patty takes the champagne and says she’ll chill it while I hear what the others have to say.

‘So we’ve been on surveillance,’ begins Mum as they sit me down on the sofa and surround me. ‘Poppy was surprisingly good actually — they went in a flat cap and dowdy old man clothes and nobody paid a ha’penny worth of attention, did they?’

‘Told you I was good,’ says Poppy.

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