Jennifer Joyce - The Wedding Date

‘Um, yeah. Two pints and a red wine please.’

Why am I such a dweeb? It’s not usually like this between us, I swear. It’s the pressure. It’s putting me off my stride.

‘How did you do last night?’ Dan has grabbed a couple of pint glasses and is busy filling one with lager.

‘Do?’

‘The quiz.’ Dan nods towards the back of the pub, where The Know It Ales are still celebrating their victory twenty-four hours later. Smug gits.

‘Oh. Terrible. Really terrible.’ There’s no point sugar-coating it. Everybody knows we’re never destined to make it any further than the very bottom of the leader board.

‘Never mind.’ Dan places one full glass on the bar and starts to fill the other. ‘Did you have a good weekend otherwise?’

‘Yeah, pretty good.’ I hope Dan doesn’t ask me to elaborate. Other than taking part in the pub quiz, I’d done little more than lounge in my pyjamas and watch a film with my folks. Mum let me choose a musical for us to watch, as long as it was either ‘Annie’ or ‘The King and I’ so she could gush over the shiny heads of Daddy Warbucks or King Mongkut of Siam (she has an obsession with bald celebrities). I don’t want to tell Dan this, obviously, as I need to appear fun and alluring if I want to secure a date.

‘You?’ It’s better to steer the focus away from myself and my rather sad weekend. And quickly.

‘I was working mostly. It’s lucky I love my job, hey?’ Dan winks at me as he places the second pint on the bar. He turns away from me to pour Lauren’s glass of red wine. I don’t have long left. In a few seconds I will pay up and return to my table dateless.

‘What do you like to do when you’re not working?’ Please say something interesting. Don’t be a stamp collector or a wanderer of antique markets (apologies if you are either of these things, but they don’t float my boat and I don’t think I have it in me to pretend convincingly).

‘I’m in a band.’

Oh. That’s pretty cool, actually. ‘What do you play?’

‘Drums.’

I picture Harry Judd from McFly. Nice. Very nice. ‘Are you any good?’

‘Me or the band?’

I hand over the money and give what I hope is a coy one-shouldered shrug. ‘Both.’

Dan smiles. His eyes crinkle up and an adorable dimple appears in his right cheek. Swoontastic, right? ‘We’re pretty good. At least I think so. You should come and hear us play some time.’

‘I’d love to.’ I probably answer a tad too quickly. He’s barely finished his sentence, which makes me appear overly keen, but so what? Dan has asked me out – sort of – which is exactly what I want.

‘Great. We’re playing The Wheatsheaf on Bolan Street on Friday. Do you know it?’

‘Yes.’ I will Google Map it. ‘What time?’

‘We start at nine but we’ll be there earlier than that if you’d like to meet for a drink before.’

Yes, yes, yes!

Delilah James, you have yourself a date. Project Wedding Date is under way.

Chapter 6

The Worst Date Ever

Text Message:

Delilah:Have you SEEN the new barman?

Lauren:Hot, right?

Delilah:So hot!

Lauren:He has a dimple. I love a dimple

Delilah:Dimples are so cute and did you see his bum when he bent down to pick up that 50p?

Lauren:Good call dropping that, by the way

I’ve never seen Dan outside of The Farthing. I only ever see him outside of the bar when he goes on the odd glass-collection round. He seems much shorter in The Wheatsheaf. Not Santa’s helper-short, but he only just reaches my chin and I’m not even wearing heels. I’d agonised over outfits this evening – did I go for a dress, trousers or skirt? Casual or dressy up? Heels or flats?

‘That one’s easy,’ Lauren had told me. She’d helpfully popped round after work to help me prepare. ‘Dan’s a bit… vertically challenged, remember.’

So I’d gone for a pair of nude ballet pumps (thankfully), black skinny jeans and a floaty top. Not too casual but not too smart either. It was the Baby Bear of the fashion world.

‘You made it! Brilliant!’ Dan holds out his palm and I look at it for a moment before it dawns on me that he wants me to high-five it. I place my palm on his briefly before snatching it away. ‘Let me get you a drink and then you can meet the guys.’

I’ve never been to The Wheatsheaf before as it’s a bit out of the way. My first impression is that it’s quite dark. And a little bit dingy. It also seems to be missing its patrons. Apart from me and Dan, there is only a lone barmaid, bored and staring into space.

‘Hey, Donna.’ Dan hops up onto a stool at the bar (I’m surprised that he makes it. The stool is almost as tall as he is). The barmaid springs to life, her heavily made-up eyes wide and fluttery.

‘What can I get you, Dan?’ Donna’s eyes flicker to me and she scowls before beaming at Dan once more. She leans towards him, flashing a sizeable cleavage. It looks like Daddy Warbucks and King Mongkut of Siam are tucked down her top. ‘Your usual?’ She cocks an eyebrow at me. Yes, she’s saying. I know Dan’s usual. Do you?

I don’t, actually. I’ve never seen him drink anything at The Farthing. Not even a glass of water.

‘Please.’ Dan turns to me. ‘Usual?’

Ha! Dan knows my usual, Donna.

‘Yes. Thank you, Dan.’ I do a bit of fluttering myself but stop when I realise I look like a berk.

‘Two pints, please. And one for yourself.’

Donna’s eyebrows are raised at me as she passes to grab a couple of glasses. He’s buying me a drink too, they’re saying. This isn’t over.

‘Come on, let’s go and meet the others.’ Dan hops back down from the stool and grabs his pint, leading me to the back of the pub and through a door marked private. There’s a room beyond with a ratty old sofa, a precarious pile of old, dusty portable TVs and several boxes of crisps. There isn’t a window so the room is stuffy as it’s crammed with bodies, junk and instruments.

‘This is Mickey, Tris, Leona, Gary, Doodle and Munch.’ Dan introduces his friends, who nod and murmur greetings. ‘Guys, this is Delilah.’

Doodle and Munch grin at each other before they break out into song, serenading me with ‘Hey There Delilah’ by Plain White T’s. I smile and giggle as though it isn’t the twenty millionth time this has been done to me.

‘Leave her alone now.’ Dan grabs my hand and leads me through the assault course of the room. ‘Have a seat.’

I look down at the scabby sofa with its stuffing hanging out of old, fraying wounds. It smells of something I can’t identify. Something bad.

‘I’m all right standing. I’ve been sitting down at work all day.’

‘I don’t blame you for not wanting to sit on that.’ Leona, the only other girl, nods towards the stinky sofa. ‘That thing smells like somebody ate shit and threw it back up again across the cushions.’

And what a delightful image that is.

‘I really would rather stand for a while.’

Leona shrugs. ‘Fair enough. If you do want to sit down though, you’re better off sitting out in the bar.’

‘She can’t, can she?’ Doodle asks. ‘Not with Dan anyway. Donna’s out there.’ Doodle shakes his head at Dan. ‘You shouldn’t have banged her, man. That bitch is never going to leave you alone now.’

Dan has the good grace to look slightly uncomfortable, which only makes Doodle throw his head back and laugh his puny little head off.

‘Leave it, will you?’ Dan asks, but Doodle does not. He ups his game and starts to do impressions of Dan and Donna in the act, using Munch as a prop. To be fair to Munch, he isn’t at all happy with the arrangement.