‘Coke, G&T and a soda and lime please,’ I shout to the barman when he finally looks in my direction. He dances his way through my order before handing me my drinks in record time. I pour my rum shot into the Coke and carefully manoeuvre my way out of the queue and look for my friends. Thankfully, they’ve managed to find a table. A win for the oldies.
Half an hour later, Faith finds us sitting near the back and plonks herself down beside us. ‘Well, look at you lot all fancy,’ she compliments. ‘So glad you could come. Have you tried the rum?’
We all nod and tell her how delicious it is, but Victoria was right. It is effing awful. It tastes like spiced foot.
‘You look pretty,’ Faith tells me, scanning my outfit. ‘Are those Charlie’s boots? They’re… interesting.’
‘No, they’re my boots,’ I reply, childishly scrunching my face at her. I’m two sizes bigger than Charlie and she knows this. ‘But thanks for noticing.’
‘No problem,’ she says, ‘It’s good to stand out when you’re single.’
‘I’m here to support you, Faith,’ I remind her, somewhat amused by her tactless comments, ‘not to wow men with my footwear.’
‘Can’t you do both?’ she asks. ‘I mean, what about that guy? Green shirt. Looks reasonable.’
‘Reasonable? Gosh, nothing but the best for your sister, eh? Faith, do you think we could have one evening without trying to marry me off?’
‘Nope. Twelve o’clock. Look now.’
I reluctantly glance behind me towards Faith’s imaginary clock hands before returning to my starting position with a sigh.
‘Wedding ring,’ I inform her. ‘And if that’s his wife sitting beside him, she could definitely take both of us in a fight. Everyone here is probably married, Faith. Give up.’
‘Hey, I’m not married!’ she replies, indignantly but we both know it won’t be long before her boyfriend, Daniel, pops the question. ‘Besides, people get divorced all the time, it doesn’t hurt to lay the groundwork—’
‘Next you’ll be telling me to scope out potential widowers from the obituaries.’
She grins. ‘Everything’s an opportunity.’
I can’t help but laugh. I know deep down Faith means well, but she’s relentless. The thought that I could be perfectly happy alone is alien to her. She won’t stop until I’m trussed up in white and hurtling down the aisle towards anyone with a pulse… and even that might be optional.
CHAPTER7
On Saturday morning, Charlie announces that, despite it being my birthday, she absolutely and immediately must have new jogging trousers for school on Monday, even though she’s spent the past three years not caring what she throws on her tiny backside for her thrice-weekly physical education.
‘We can’t do this tomorrow?’ I ask, clicking the kettle on. ‘I’m barely awake.’
She shakes her head. ‘No, I have loads of homework to catch up on.’
‘But I was going to make a fancy breakfast for us,’ I complain, glancing at the pastries I had put aside from the café. ‘Can we just go later?’
‘You know how busy the mall gets on a Saturday,’ she replies firmly. ‘Come on, we hardly ever go shopping together. It’ll be fun!’
It will not be fun. Charlie prefers to buy her gear online because clothes shopping with me frustrates her dark soul beyond belief.
‘When have I ever worn a pink crop top, Mum? Or wedges. Have you met me?’
‘Not everything has to black, Charlotte. Even Satan wore white at one point.’
She shiftily looks at her phone and I start to realise what’s going on. She wants to get me out of the house. But why so early? Surely people have better things to do with their Saturday morning than gather in my flat and make me uncomfortable. Charlie’s somewhat anxious face makes me reconsider my initial plan to be obstinate and ruin everyone’s fun, so I smile and play along. Besides, I could buy myself some new concealer for the spot that has sprouted on my chin during the night. Even my skin is still stubbornly clinging on to its youth.
‘Fine,’ I reply. ‘Give me half an hour to—’
‘Fifteen,’ she interrupts quickly. ‘You have fifteen minutes.’
We take a drive out to Ocean Terminal, which sits right on the waterfront. It’s only half past ten but I struggle to find a parking space. Why is it so mobbed? Is everyone having a surprise party?
Once inside, my suggestion to buy some good-quality gym trousers from a sports shop is met with a look of disdain as Charlie drags me towards New Look. If anywhere makes me feel old, it’s New Look, a shop filled with teens, all dressed the same despite the wide range of clothing obviously available to them. This is clearly not the year of individuality. Charlie spots the leisurewear near the back of the store, and I follow behind.
