Page 84 of Old Girls Go Greek
‘Do they by Jove. That sounds just the thing, doesn’t it? Would you like me to book a table? About six thirty tomorrow evening? Or is that too early?’
‘No, that’s perfect,’ I said.
‘Great. I’ll see you then.’
‘See you then.’
‘Bye then. Have a good day.’
‘You too, bye.’
‘Great to talk to you,’ he said, ‘and looking forward to tomorrow.’
‘Bye for now,’ I said.
Both of us started laughing.
‘Bye. Look this is ridiculous,’ he said. ‘Put the phone down. Although you don’t do that any more, do you? It’s just press a button.’
‘Okay,’ I said. And after a moment’s dithering, I did.
I sat looking at my phone for a moment and felt a sudden swell of happiness rise in my chest. He had wanted to find me and he had. And we were going out tomorrow evening.
I made a fresh cup of tea and congratulated myself with two more chocolate digestives. And then I picked up my mobile again and rang Anita’s number.
‘Anita? It’s me. You’ll never guess what just happened.’
* * *
The following morning, Beryl, Effie and Anita came round to my house, ostensibly for coffee, but in fact to catch up on the gossip and advise me what to wear. It was such fun.
‘You need to look as though you have made the effort but not tried too hard,’ Effie said, ‘so nothing glittery or low cut.’
‘I don’t have anything glittery or low cut,’ I said.
By that point the three of them were sitting on the edge of my bed while I went through my wardrobe trying to find the right outfit.
‘And nothing navy blue or grey or too short,’ Beryl chimed in. ‘You don’t want to depress or frighten him.’
‘This is like being a teenager again,’ I said. ‘I didn’t expect things to be as complicated as they used to be.’
‘Just wear something you’re comfortable in, and some pretty shoes,’ Anita said. ‘What happened to those zebra-print ones you had?’
‘Ruined, I’m afraid. They never did recover after my date with gravel, and then they got splashed with red wine. Oh dear, this is a problem all of a sudden.’
‘Nonsense, a problem is when you don’t have enough cheese in the fridge to make Welsh rarebit. Now this one,’ Beryl said, pulling out a favourite pink linen dress of mine, ‘and a denim jacket. That’s very cool.’
‘I haven’t got one,’ I said.
Effie stood up and pulled off the one she had been wearing.
‘You can borrow this one,’ she said, ‘let me just take the tissues out of the pockets. And those pale blue trainers I can see in the back of the wardrobe. You will look like a rock chick.’
‘More a rock hen at our age, I don’t think there is such a thing as a rock duck.’ Beryl said, ‘but I get your drift. And you can borrow this for good luck.’
She unpinned a little enamel duck brooch from her jacket lapel and ceremoniously attached it to the denim jacket. ‘That’s until your official membership of the Old Ducks Club comes through. Now then, tell us again, what did he say?’
‘I’ve told you,’ I said.
