Page 24 of The Late Bloomer’s Playlist

Dion and the Belmonts

A TEENAGER IN LOVE

I was sitting at the kitchen table, phone in hand and sweat on brow. David was fussing somewhere behind me, throwing around pans and singing along to Dion and the Belmonts. And although I couldn’t work out how exactly he was doing it, there was something smug about that hum; a gentle mocking that only David could master without the use of accompanying words. He was enjoying this far too much. Meanwhile, I was a mess of, yes, teenage nerves, while I was trying to muster the courage to send Sheila a message inviting her to dinner. Not at the flat, obviously, lest she meet my–

‘Why must I be…’

‘David. Sod. Off.’

‘Do you think Donna and Val will want garlic bread? I didn’t buy any.’

‘Then does it matter?’

‘Hm.’ There came another clang of a pan. ‘Fair point.’

Donna and Val were more my friends than David’s to begin with, but they’d come to adore him over the years. They were also one of the couples who were privy to our fake marriage – and outraged, still, that I hadn’t invited them to Vegas. They’d been nothing but supportive of the whole thing, though. ‘Practical’, they’d called it.

Which is the romance everyone is searching for…

‘So what have you typed?’ David stood behind me and kneaded at the firm dough of my shoulders. Once, when I was a child, my grandmother had tried to teach me how to crochet. The result had been a mess of yarn tangled around my fingers with the needle knotted somewhere between it all. My grandmother had given up with the unspinning in the end and she’d resorted to cutting the needle free. That is precisely how my shoulders felt: David’s hands, working to untangle wool and free something.

I sighed. ‘“Dildo aside, it was really lovely meeting you. Shall we do dinner next time?”’

‘You’ve actually written “dildo aside”?’

‘I was trying to be funny.’

‘Have you put Laugh Out Loud?’

‘Do people still use that?’ I craned around in time to catch a shrug. ‘That’s not helpful.’

‘Okay. If you really want help, I think you should stop trying to be funny.’

‘Meaning, remove the dildo?’

There was a short pause before David answered with a ‘Yes’ that was strangled by a laugh. ‘It was lovely meeting you. Let’s try dinner next time,’ he said, with a straighter face. ‘Don’t make it a question, Patti, you have to be assertive.’ He kneaded harder then, like a trainer might to a boxer in the corner of the ring, and I felt him leaning over me to watch as I redrafted the message. My thumb lingered over the send button.

‘And I just send it?’

‘That’s how texting works, darling Patti, yes.’

I forced out a long stream of air and–

‘David!’

‘Oh, love, I am sorry. Did I nudge your hand?’

That’s it. The message was sent.

‘You’re a shit.’ I stood to face him. ‘You did that on purpose.’

David rested a hand on his chest and feigned outrage. ‘Patti, that you would even suggest such a thing…’ His voice wavered as though trying to draw out tears. But David hadn’t cried since 1995, and this wasn’t going to be the thing that broke his streak. ‘I’m here, offering you support, and you would accuse me of–’ The front doorbell cut through his performance. ‘Get that will you? That’ll be Donna and Val.’ He leaned forward and kissed my cheek, and then turned at speed to check on whatever he was making.

‘Tit,’ I muttered to Fred, who dutifully followed me into the hallway and grumbled like he agreed. I wiggled my jaw, limbering up for a wide smile, and then yanked open the door. ‘Ladies! Come in, come in.’

‘Patti, love.’ Donna came scooting in first and handed over an outlandish bunch of daffodils. ‘Something smells fab.’

‘Sweetheart, how are we?’ Val pulled me to her by my shoulders, kissed one cheek then the other. But she held me at arm’s length rather than unleashing me, and fixed me with a narrowed expression as though she were searching for something. ‘Did you and David argue?’