Page 67 of The Late Bloomer’s Playlist

‘Patti, that’s…’ David put a hand on his chest. ‘That’s a lovely thing to say.’

‘I wouldn’t,’ Janet butted in. ‘But that’s beside the point, I suppose.’

‘Given that I don’t have deep-rooted psychological issues with my mother, I’m probably excluded from your pool of potential dating applicants anyway,’ he shot back.

‘Honestly, you two.’ They were worthy of popcorn and 3D glasses. ‘David, you look superb. Janet, you still have cream on your nose.’ She immediately wiped at it and then licked her finger clean. ‘When are you leaving?’

David checked his watch. ‘Five minutes ago. Patti, my love, my light, my all–’

‘What do you want?’

‘Is there any chance at all that in the next two hours you might be able to make the living room look less like your heart has exploded over it?’

I glanced around. ‘I mean, I probably could, but why?’

‘Just in case.’ He winked.

‘You old dog,’ Janet answered, her tone lighter now. ‘You actually think you’ll bring her home?’

‘Oh, David!’

‘What? I like to be prepared.’

‘I bet you five pounds that you come home alone tonight,’ Janet said, radiating smugness.

‘Oh, Janet, don’t be crass. I wouldn’t take your pension from you.’ He closed the space in two long strides and kissed the top of my head. ‘So, could you? Clean up, I mean.’

If the disgraceful amount of romance films that I’d watched in the last week and a half had taught me anything, it was that blind optimism – and a little stupidity – was key in all matters of the heart. From the little I knew of Eudora, she didn’t strike me as the type of woman who would be so easily drawn in by a man trying to get into her underwear. From the lot that I knew of David, though, I knew better than to underestimate him. So I begrudgingly agreed, tucking my arm around his waist and pulling him in for a squeeze before he could bolt for the door.

‘Have fun and tell her I said hello.’ I winced as I said it. ‘If that isn’t too strange.’

‘You’ll never get her home tonight, David, I can near as damn it promise you that much,’ Janet added by way of goodbye.

‘Oh, ye of little faith, Janet, ye of little faith,’ came the reply, punctuated by the slam of the front door.

‘I’ll bet you a fiver he doesn’t,’ she said, and I laughed.

David might have minded, but I had no qualms about taking Janet’s money from her.