The function room has six wooden tables and a makeshift bar at the back, which looks like it’s lined with bellinis. Maybe screwdrivers? Perhaps just soft drinks for the kids, who knows? If they are cocktails, I make a mental note to have at least twelve during the event.
I breathe a small sigh of relief when I look around the room and spot two women my own age, looking just as awkward as I do.
‘Everyone, welcome to Games Night!’ Steph yells over the music. ‘I hope you singles are all ready to mingle?’
Everyone not completely mortified gives a little whoop.
‘So, for those who haven’t been to one of our events before, I’ll explain how the evening will work.’
Steph pauses to glare at two men who have the audacity to speak at a social occasion. She reminds me of a girl I went to school with who ran the prom committee. Helpful, excitable and a closet sociopath.
‘On the left side of your card you’ll see numbers one to six, in various orders. These will be the order of the tables you’ll sit at to play our quick-fire games, four people to a table. Two boys, two girls to a table.’
Boys and girls? I wonder if there’s a grown-up table where the adults sit.
‘You’ll have ten minutes at each table, with a fifteen-minute break for refreshments. If you feel like you’re vibing with someone, just mark their name or number on your play card.’
I walk over to table three, the first on my card. On the table sits a deck of cards, beside it an envelope. I’m joined by Charles, Derren and Rosie. Derren immediately reaches for the envelope. ‘Snap,’ he announces, with a puzzled expression. ‘We’re playing snap.’
Derren is probably around thirty, maybe thirty-five at a push. He’s very clean-shaven to the point that if I touched his face, it might squeak. Charles can’t be much older and is wearing a polo neck in the middle of July. My internal thermostat could never cope with that. He is rocking a buzzcut, however, so maybe the heat’s escaping from the top of his head.
‘Isn’t this fun?’ Rosie announces. ‘I haven’t played snap in years. I have three brothers, it was always a fight to the death.’
I like Rosie already. She’s petite, with chocolate-brown hair, wearing the cutest blue floral tea dress. If the men here had to choose between me and Rosie, I wouldn’t stand a chance.
Derren begins to deal the cards, which aren’t normal playing cards. There are at least sixty cards in the deck, and they have cartoon animals instead of suits. Rosie giggles.
Charles looks appalled. ‘Animal snap. How childish. If it had been poker or even rummy, that might have made for a more interesting game.’
‘We only have ten minutes,’ Derren reminds him. ‘That isn’t long enough to play a decent round of poker.’
Charles sniffs and places the first card on the table. A yellow duck.
‘Snap!’ Rosie yells triumphantly, before swiping his card and adding it to her pile. I see his eyes narrow. I can tell that this is now war.
Six games of snap can tell a lot about a person. Derren is a good sport, Charles is a smug winner. ‘Never mind, everyone. I guess I’m just faster.’
And Rosie. Sweet, dainty Rosie with her pretty tea dress is a bad– no, horrendous– loser. If she fought to the death with her brothers, I can’t imagine that any of them are still breathing.
‘I yelled it first!’ she screeches at me during round three. ‘And I snapped. Your big giant man hands got in the way of mine.’
‘You’re clearly cheating,’ she tells Derren. ‘Are you, like, in on it with the organisers? Can you see which cards I’m holding?’
‘Yeah,’ he replies. ‘You caught me. I slipped the host fifty quid in return for X-ray vision.’
As the bell rings to switch tables, she throws her cards across the table and leaves. I laugh so hard, I genuinely think I might wet myself.
My big giant man hands and I make our way to the next table.
At the end of the evening, I hand my card in with my matches ticked. There aren’t many. There are three of us, all women, who definitely grew up in the eighties, listening to cassettes on a Walkman and watching movies on a VCR. Everyone else is at least fifteen years younger. I’m not Cher, there’s no way I can pull that off. I’m not sure I’d want to.
I’ve ticked Derren for being funny, Blair from game number four, just for being handsome and Rosie just to annoy the hell out of her.
Chapter 12
‘He’s taking me on a cruise, you know,’ Mum announces before I’ve barely managed to ask how she is. It’s been two weeks since we’ve spoken.
‘It’s so romantic, don’t you think?’ she continues. ‘Just me, Paul, a cold glass of wine. . . the deep blue sea—’
