Page 69 of The Do-Over

‘Ben’s invited Rollo and me to move in with him.’

I’m caught off guard.

‘I know it seems quick,’ she continues hurriedly. ‘But if we’re committing to the farm together, it does make sense, and you’llbe able to have the cottage to yourself without us getting under your feet.’

‘It doesn’t have to happen straight away,’ Ben says, evidently trying to reassure me. ‘We just thought it would make things easier for you.’

Before I have a chance to consider any further, we’re interrupted by the arrival of Alasdair, looking much better for his shower.

‘I’m sure it’ll be fine,’ I tell them. ‘Let’s look at the practicalities tomorrow, yeah?’

‘That was intense,’ Alasdair remarks as we pull off the drive and head for the centre of town in search of breakfast. ‘Your stepfather was practically asking my intentions while you were in the shower.’

‘I did warn you,’ I tell him with a smile. ‘I don’t think I’ve brought a boy home since I was in sixth form, so you were a bit of a novelty.’

‘Mm. Anyway, I had a thought about you and George while I was in the shower. It’s bad news, I’m afraid.’

His voice is serious and my heart sinks. Is he going to pull out of helping me? I know I’m perfectly capable of sorting this out on my own, especially as I know where George is, but I am enjoying having Alasdair as my wingman.

‘What is it?’ I ask.

‘You can’t marry him, sorry.’

‘I think you’re jumping the gun a little, but why not?’

‘The consonant thing.’

‘What consonant thing?’

‘You always used to say that you hated your name because there weren’t any hard consonants in it. George Jones is no better. How on earth are your children going to learn to speak properly if neither of their parents have any hard consonants?’

‘I don’t think that’s a valid objection,’ I tell him with a smile.

‘I disagree.’

‘OK, I’ll play along. So there we are, at the church, and the minister asks if anyone knows of any lawful reason why George and I can’t marry. Would you put your hand up and make that argument?’

‘Someone’s got to look out for you. Can I be your best man?’

‘No. Brides don’t have a best man.’

‘Matron of honour then. Chief bridesmaid, whatever.’

‘I think Saffy and Rebecca are probably in the queue in front of you for that one. You could be a page boy if you like?’

‘Can I wear a velvet suit?’

‘Do you want to?’

‘I was a page boy for one of my cousins’ weddings when I was little. I had to wear a red velvet suit. I hated it at the time, but I reckon I could carry it off now.’

I try to picture him in a velvet suit. ‘Do you know what,’ I tell him. ‘I reckon you could too. But let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, shall we?’

‘Fair enough. Ah, this looks promising.’ He points to a pub with a big sign advertising its all-day menu and pulls into the car park.

‘So, what’s the plan?’ he asks once we’re settled at a table and have placed our orders. ‘Let’s role play. I’m George and you can be Thea.’ He raises his arm and swings it down, thumping the table before repeating the movement.

‘What on earth are you doing?’ I ask incredulously.

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