Seconds later it arrives. Naomi remains silent while I cast an eye over it.
‘OK, so I have questions,’ I say, zooming in on the photo.
‘I bet you do.’
‘I assume that green patch is your garden. Why are there seven horses?’
‘No idea. I can confirm that we do not have a herd of horses or anything remotely equestrian.’
My eyes continue squinting at the image. ‘Is that Philip or a tall duck? Why do you live in a pink rocket?’
By now, we’re both wheezing.
‘Your son thinks you look like a llama, I hope you realise this.’
‘It’s like a fever dream,’ she replies. ‘I mean, Grant is no better but at least he knows that the feckin’ sky isn’t purple.’
‘Wait. That’s the sky?’
By the time we both eventually calm down, my face hurts. It’s truly the funniest picture I’ve ever seen. I want it on a T-shirt.
‘So, any progress with the dating?’ she asks. ‘Or is that a stupid question?’
‘Not great,’ I reply, her question instantly flattening my mood. ‘I started on the dating sites and it’s so awkward. Choosing usernames, trying to be witty, it’s stressful! I also matched with the same guy on two different sites who used the same chat-up lines on both. I don’t know how people put themselves through this on a regular basis.’
‘Yeah, I get that,’ Naomi replies. ‘It sounds soul destroying but at least you’re having a go. What’s next?’
‘Something called Games Night.’
‘That might be fun,’ she says. ‘Maybe you’ll play Hungry Hippos or Guess Who? Ooh, Operation! If a guy has a steady hand, he’s worth pursuing.’
I laugh. Only Naomi could gauge someone’s sexual prowess from a board game.
Chapter 11
I obviously wasn’t in my right mind when I signed up for Games Night.
I walk into the Drunken Bee, a pub-slash-nightclub in Camden, and I’m immediately struck by the interior. Shabby-looking couches, poorly replicated Warhol pictures on the walls and a bar covered in royal memorabilia. It’s the most bizarre-looking decor but, more worryingly, someone signed off on this. This was a choice. Serving all-day breakfast, happy-hour cocktails and pizza and beer deals, it’s quite obviously a student bar. It smells like lager and hormones. I have no business being here and if I hadn’t paid for this event upfront, I’d be heading straight back out the front door. I try to casually fit in, ordering a Jack and Coke instead of asking for a wine list, and follow the signs for the Games Night, held in the function room at the back of the pub. I’m greeted by a short woman, barely out of her teens, who grins widely as she introduces herself as Steph.
‘Sophie Smalls. I’m here for the, um—’
‘Most fun night of your life!’ Steph giggles and hands me a name badge while I die inside. ‘Here’s your game card and pen.’
I scan it. Six numbers down one side and a space beside each for names. She notices my confusion. ‘Don’t worry, take a seat and I’ll go over the process once everyone is here.’
The age range of the event is thirty to fifty but as I take a seat beside two women, I get the feeling they haven’t sold many tickets and have recruited from a nearby secondary school. I smile at Bethany and Paige, tempted to ask them what they want to be when they grow up. By the look on their faces, they’re about to ask me to buy them twenty fags and a bottle of cider.
‘I like your top,’ Bethany says. I smile and thank her, relieved that I wore my red, bell-sleeved top and not one of the twenty-five work tops I have in my wardrobe.
‘And I like your T-shirt,’ I inform Bethany. ‘Brilliant band.’
She nods. ‘Nirvana were the best. Kirk Corbain was a genius.’
I’m tempted to correct her but I bite my tongue. Kurt Cobain would be rolling in his grave. ‘Dave Grohl is too,’ I agree. ‘Amazing drummer.’
I see her exchange a look with Paige. ‘Um, I think you’re thinking of the Foo Fighters. . . and he’s the lead singer, just like Kirk was.’
Having no desire to turn into one of those pompous arseholes who might say, ‘Yeah? Well, I was listening to Nirvana before you were even born. Name four of their albums. Wrong, there were only three,’ I just go back to my drink.
