Page 27 of Always the Bridesmaid

I hold up crossed fingers.

‘I just want to say, Charlie, I’m sorry I’ve been hard work today. I’m grateful for the ride. It means a lot to me to be able to help Jake and Jess.’

‘Me too. And you’re welcome.’

She smiles sweetly. ‘Did we just agree on something?’

‘You mean besides our love of romcoms and sweet things?’

She raises her eyebrows. ‘You’re right. For two people who rub each other up the wrong way, we do have some common ground.’

I stare at her for a beat too long without meaning to.

‘So,’ she says, edgy now. ‘What time are you on?’

‘Not until nine. Don’t feel like you have to stay here. I won’t be offended in the slightest.’

‘Of course I’ll stay. I mean, unless you don’t want me to.’

I don’t think I do. I’m not sure why. It seems to have just struck me that some of my stage content is quite personal and maybe I don’t want to share it with Sarah. Then again, I share it with loads of people on a weekly basis.

‘Yeah, sure, it’s just a show, you know, open to everyone.’

Her brow furrows, unsurprisingly, since I am giving off a fairly mixed message.

‘Right. Yeah.’ She’s too breezy now. Forced casual. ‘Well, my feet are sore from walking around in sandals all afternoon, so it will give me a rest.’

‘Yeah. ’Course. Good shout.’

Shit, I’ve offended her. This morning, that wouldn’t have bothered me but after she bought desserts…

‘Charlie, can I say something? I think we maybe got off on the wrong foot. I’m not usually so grumpy and uptight and I have a feeling you’re not always so pig-headed either.’

‘Wow, was that one of those backhanded compliments or backhanded insults?’ I smirk in response to the apprehensive look on her face. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not really offended. I agree, actually. I’m sure nobody can be as uptight and grumpy all the time as you’ve seemed to be.’

I am pleased that she finds me amusing, for a change.

I hold out my hand in that cliché way like Channing Tatum in The Vow and say, ‘Hi, I’m Charlie. How do you do?’

Sarah rolls her eyes but she shakes my hand. Her skin is soft, moisturized, well looked after. Though her hand is large, it fits neatly inside mine.

‘Sarah,’ she says. ‘Just a regular girl from New York City. Not uptight, unless I feel insulted, and not grumpy, unless I don’t like people.’

It is my turn to find amusement in her words.

‘How about I get us a couple of drinks and you tell me what it’s like living in the concrete jungle where dreams are boundless?’

She recognizes Alicia Keys’s lyrics and tells me, ‘There’s nothing a girl can’t do.’

We talk about everything from Broadway and the West End to how we make a living, from ways to escape the bustle of Manhattan and London to the places we would like to visit.

When the first comedian takes to the stage at 7p.m., we are both drinking alcohol-free beer from the bottle and sharing a plate of spicy barbecue wings.

It’s a tough crowd. The young woman, who must be new to the circuit given I have been working it for years now and don’t recognize her, gets a rough ride.

Unfortunately, her jokes just aren’t landing. Her nerves are making her voice tremble and throwing off her timing, which doesn’t help the ill-judged jokes she’s making.

In my opinion, the days of making jokes about race, gender and sexual orientation, even if the comedian is of ethnic minority or LGBTQ+ themselves, are gone. Extremely crass, crude and anything ‘ist’ jokes are no longer funny to the average punter who comes out for a bit of a laugh and a pleasant weeknight drink with friends or workmates.

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