By the time I’d drunk a large glass of wine and eaten the bacon canapés, I’d ditched my impractical shoes and switched to a girls’ night in playlist and had decided that I should do this every Friday night. Well, every Friday night I didn’t have anything else to do, anyway. Hopefully at some point I’d have some friends to hang out with at the weekend, as per Dream List item ten.
I slid the salmon onto a plate, added a spoonful of buttery new potatoes and half the fancy salad I’d picked up from the deli counter at the Hatherstone Hall farm shop, and sat down to eat, facing the kitchen window, Nesbit curled up underneath the table.
Three mouthfuls in, there was a knock on the front door, sending Nesbit into a flurry of barking as he skidded up and down the hallway. I checked my phone – it was just after eight. Not unsociably late. But the only person who’d called unannounced since I moved in was Leanne, and Joan had told me they were having a movie night this evening. My anxiety twitching, I went to answer it, trying to avoid standing on Nesbit, still doing his very best impression of a ferocious guard dog.
When I opened the door, Nesbit entered a whole new level of excited, announcing this awesome visitor with a victory sprint around the entire house, including up the stairs.
‘Hi!’ I said, surprised to see Sam standing there, before realising that, really, who else would it be, given the number of people I knew in Bigley and beyond.
‘Hi!’ He grinned, before seeming to register my appearance, his jaw dropping slightly, eyes widening. ‘Oh – am I interrupting?’
I glanced down to where his eyes had temporarily paused before darting back up to my face, only then remembering with a spasm of horror that I’d undone the top two buttons on my slightly-too-tight jumpsuit and there was now an inch of black lacy bra on display, along with the kind of cleavage that my supermarket bras could only dream of.
‘Um…’ Is it better to say yes or no?
I had told Sam about the Dream List, but really, standing here in my slinky suit with my boobs half-out, the whiff of wine and James Morrison wafting down the hallway, the idea of spending Friday night on a date with myself couldn’t feel any more pathetic.
‘Hello!’ a cheery voice called out, as Sam’s mum appeared out of nowhere. ‘Sam mentioned that he needed to bring your pots back, and I insisted on coming to thank you for a simply delicious meal.’
Sam awkwardly held up the cool bag I’d delivered the meal in two weeks earlier.
‘Oh, and by the way, I’m Pia.’ She moved forwards to shake my hand, forcing Sam to step to the side. To give her credit, when Pia noticed what I was wearing, she didn’t even blink.
‘You’re busy, we won’t keep you.’ She offered me a female version of Sam’s stunning smile. ‘Enjoy the rest of your evening!’
At that point, Nesbit decided to return, clattering down the stairs to proudly display his new treasure. My heart sank even deeper into my inappropriately exposed chest as I tried to shove him back with my foot.
‘Well, hello again!’ Pia reached down, hand extended, and Nesbit squirmed his way past me and out the front door into the evening sunshine, proudly depositing my red lacy knickers at her feet.
‘Whoops!’ Pia said, scooping them up and handing them to me, while Sam suddenly became fascinated with the trees on the other side of the road.
‘Fab brand,’ Pia leant in and whispered. ‘They do the most gorgeous bottle-green bralette that would look divine with your hair. So comfy you don’t even notice you’re wearing it.’
‘Right… thanks.’
‘Anyway, Sam – stop messing about so Ollie can get back to her evening.’
Sam turned back around, looking me squarely in the eye as he handed the cool bag over. ‘Thanks again. It was a really great meal.’
It was all I could do to nod while feebly clutching the bag until they’d moved away so I could shoo Nesbit inside and slam the door, sliding down onto the welcome mat and burying my head in my hands.
On Saturday, I drove into the city to have breakfast with Steph. This time Nicky and Drew joined us, so I had to wait until they’d moved off to play football on the computer before I could fill Steph in on my solo date.
‘I don’t know what was worse, flashing my chest or the knickers.’
‘What’s worse is you telling him you’re off dating, when he clearly was hinting about asking you out, and now he thinks you were either on a date or at the very least hooking up with someone. The obvious conclusion is that you are interested in dating, just not him.’
‘Ugh.’ I tipped forwards until my forehead rested on the table. ‘It’s the complete opposite! I’m not dating but I am interested in him!’
‘I told you to order a size twelve; that brand has no respect for women with fuller breasts.’
‘I told him about the Dream List. Maybe he’ll figure out that I was having a fancy night in by myself.’
‘Even better.’ Steph picked up the curtain of hair covering my face, and bent her nose to mine. ‘Maybe he’ll think you saw it was him out the window and popped open a couple of buttons with every intention of inviting him in, until his mum showed up.’
‘That is not better!’ I closed my eyes. ‘I really like Sam and I want him to like me. Whether he thinks I was hooking up with someone else, or trying in some crass and creepy way to seduce him, neither of those things are me, or like anything I would do.’
‘Well, it’s clearly something you want to do, or it wouldn’t be on the Dream List.’
‘The Dream List is for when I’m married. And nowhere on there does it have popping open my top because it’s too tight, or letting my dog run about with my underwear.’
‘It’ll make a great story for my chief bridesmaid’s speech.’ She giggled, before pushing a blueberry lemon muffin under my nose. ‘Come on, eat this, I’m supposed to be watching my calories.’
At which point I remembered that my best friend had genuine problems, not least that her dad was recently out of prison for the umpteenth time and had been contacting her brother Simeon, and that her mum was drinking too much again.
‘So, enough of my gut-wrenching problems, what’s next on the list?’ Steph asked, once she’d cried about the mess that was her parents, and then cried again when she proudly told me how her brother Jordan had decided to specialise in oncology.
‘Ugh. I can’t even think about that stupid list, let alone choose something. A romantic night in was supposed to be the easiest thing on there.’
‘Come on, then, hand it over.’ She held out her hand.
‘It’s an A3 sheet; I don’t carry it about with me.’
‘So you’re telling me you don’t have a picture on your phone?’
Sighing, I scrolled through to the photo and passed her my phone.
Steph pursed her lips as she scanned the list. ‘Number six.’
‘Number six?’