‘Should we call them over?’ I ask Rose, stuffing a Monster Munch in my mouth.
‘They can see where we are. They’ll be over when they’re hungry.’
We stretch out on the blanket, soaking up the sun like two pasty sponges. Rose sits up and nudges me, lowering her sunglasses.
‘Do you see that man playing football with his kid?’
I look around. There are quite a few dads playing football with their kids. ‘Narrow it down, Rose.’
‘The one in the black T-shirt.’
I spot him straight away. There are also three other mothers watching him from a nearby bench. Rose lowers her voice.
‘That’s Billy Murphy. He’s just split from his wife, Lindsay. I’m not surprised – she’s a stuck-up witch of a woman. Rob plays five-a-side with him sometimes. They call him “abs”.’
‘Yeah, he looks fit.’
‘Doesn’t he just? You should talk to him. I bet he’d go out with you.’
‘What, and be his rebound girl? No, thanks. Besides, he has to approach me first. And I smell like beef.’
‘What? Why?’
‘Because of the crisps.’
‘No, why does he have to approach you first?’
‘Long story – you can read all about it next Saturday. It’s for work.’
She looks a bit scared. ‘I don’t understand. How on earth are you going to find a boyfriend if you can’t chat them up?’
‘EXACTLY!’ I shout, throwing my arms in the air. ‘See? YOU get it!’
‘I don’t actually, but, um, I’ll look forward to reading your column.’
Jason comes back first, followed by Grace, who begs me to pour her some juice or she just might die. ‘Having fun?’ I ask, sniffing the bottle of piss and deciding I’m at least 85 per cent confident that it’s apple juice. ‘Come and eat, and then we’ll feed the swans and see the waterfall.’
While the kids are eating I continue to watch ‘Abs Morrison’. I’m intrigued. I’m not really into sporty types, but I’d make an exception for this one. AND he already has a child, so me having one shouldn’t be too much of an issue. Maybe Rose is right, this isn’t such a bad idea.
As we pack up and collect the rubbish, I notice a litter bin near where he is and decide to test out Rule 2, remembering the book’s advice:
Men will notice you – it’s up to you how this happens.
‘I’ll just get rid of this!’ I announce cheerily, grabbing the bag of rubbish and heading towards the bin, knowing that I’ll have to walk past Abs en route. I’ll just saunter past him, where he can see me. Maybe put a little wiggle in my walk. Here goes.
I get closer, casually slowing down as I walk between him and his son. ‘Don’t look at him, just look straight ahead. Be cool,’ I mutter to myself, as I wiggle directly into an oncoming football. It whacks me on the side of my face, I go over on my ankle and his kid starts laughing.
‘HA! DAD, IT BOUNCED OFF HER HEAD!’
‘You all right?’ I hear him call, but it’s drowned out by the sound of my own voice: ‘Great, Cat! WELL, THAT’S ONE WAY TO GET HIM TO NOTICE YOU.’ I’m mortified. I can’t believe I actually said that out loud, so I just give Billy and his son a thumbs-up. A. Fucking. Thumbs. Up. WHO DOES THAT?
Everyone has finally stopped laughing at me by the time we reach the duck pond. If it was deeper, I’d happily throw myself in and end it all. My ear is throbbing and I want to go home.
‘Where are the signals, Mum?’ asks Grace.
‘They’re called cygnets, and they’re right in the middle of that little island. Look closely and you’ll see them. They’re getting quite big now.’
Rose frowns as we walk slowly around the pond, passing elderly couples and families who’ve all brought their stale loaves and picnic scraps along. ‘Trust me to cut the crusts off the sandwiches. What an idiot.’
