Page 18 of The Late Bloomer’s Playlist

Sheila: Though I explained it in very bad German so that didn’t help much.

Sheila: We laughed about it in the end though.

Patti: You’ve been to so many places!

Sheila: I’m an impulsive traveller.

Sheila: And an ignorant Brit. So I’ve never worried about language barriers.

Sheila: Where have you been? Impulsively?

Patti: I booked last minute flights to Vegas once.

Patti: My best friend and I thought it was a good idea.

Sheila: I’ll bet it was a bloody fantastic idea!

Sheila. You dark horse. Vegas of all places!

Patti: We met Elvis and everything.

Sheila: I’m told that’s the law, in Vegas. Elvis and Dolly.

Patti: Ah, see, we didn’t meet Dolly.

Sheila: Shameful. You must go again.

Patti: I’ll browse Last Minute Booking while I’m at work today.

Sheila: Of course, you’ll be working today!

Sheila: You still haven’t told me much about the shop.

Patti: Bric-a-brac and beautiful nonsense

Patti: Though customers enjoy that.

Patti: Speaking of which…

Sheila: Yes, go, sell your nonsense.

Sheila: If you fancy a coffee break at any point…

* * *

I typed approximately twelve different messages asking Sheila if she wanted to meet for a coffee when I’d finished work. And one bolder message asking if she fancied an early dinner. Then I promptly deleted everything within seconds of having typed it, pocketed my phone, and went about my day. I’d found that typing the messages alone was enough to scratch the itch of asking her out, without the fear of, well, actually asking. I didn’t know what the etiquette was for online dating, though – if such a thing existed. It couldn’t be too soon, I reasoned, given that Sheila had asked without asking at least three times now whether I wanted to meet in real life. But I was starting to wonder whether leaving it too long might mean we’d essentially become pen pals – albeit, pen pals according to a digital age.

I was also long past the point of consulting David for any advice on the matter. David, who had taken to leaving small Post-its around the apartment that read things like Just do it and You’ve got this. Much as I appreciated the effort, I had to assume that he’d pulled the idea from a website targeted at teenage girls. I even found one of them in the pocket of my coat while I was searching out my keys to the shop one morning.

‘Morning, Patti.’

My head snapped up at the sound. ‘Oh, morning, Phil.’

Phil was a regular of mine, with a gruff voice and a Tom Selleck moustache that was the envy of my husband. He was also a welcome distraction on a day when I’d managed to do nothing apart from think about Sheila. Is this normal? I wondered.

‘Busy day ahead?’ he asked.

‘Quiet, I suspect Delivery day tomorrow though, so…’