She pointed out the conservatory window and I saw the lawn was already covered in a thick, white blanket, with snow still falling steadily from the sky. ‘Cerys can’t drive back in this, can she? They’re going to stay the night. She and Oliver will take your bed, the kids can sleep on the blow-up mattress in the living room and you’re on the camp bed in the dining room. It won’t kill you for one night.’
There was every chance it would. My heart sank. We’d had that camp bed longer than I’d been alive and there wasn’t a single member of the family who hadn’t been mentally or physically scarred by the thing. Once, when Cerys was having a sleepover, it snapped shut in the middle of the night, pulling a chunk of her hair right out of her head. All her friends had to be driven home at half past two in the morning and Care ended up with a very unfortunate fringe that took at least a year to grow back out. Manny wouldn’t even go near it, he was convinced it was possessed.
‘Perhaps you could stay with Drew,’ Mum suggested as she gave his shoulder an almost imperceptible squeeze and his eyes popped wide open. ‘He’s got a lovely little flat above the butchers.’
‘Perhapsyou’dlike to stay with Drew?’ I countered, both my eyebrows so far up my forehead they were virtually indistinguishable from my hair.
‘Um, I might nip to the loo.’ Drew stood abruptly, spilling his punch all over the table. ‘Either of you happen to know where the bathroom is?’
‘Top of the stairs, first door on your left,’ I replied, shooting daggers at my mother. ‘The lock is dodgy, keep an eye on it or Dorothywillwalk in while you’re having a wee.’
‘Thanks for the tip,’ he said, bobbing in a tiny bow as he backed away. ‘Nice to meet you. And good to see you again, Mrs Baker.’
‘I’ve told you, call me Bronwyn!’ Mum sang as he scarpered, her tone only changing once he was completely out of sight. ‘Well,’ she tutted, picking up his glass. ‘Good work, Gwen, off he trots.’
‘Good work me? What about good work you?’ I hissed before putting on a smile to wave hello to Barry and Gary from the badminton club. ‘What are you doing, setting me up with a total stranger without even telling me?’
‘He’s not a stranger, he’s Drew, he owns the butchers.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, clearly you’ve known him all your life.’
‘Well, forgive me for trying to introduce you to a nice, handsome man who owns his own business and once rescued a sheep from a barbed wire fence.’
I glared at her across the wrought iron table.
‘It’s on Instagram,’ she sniffed. ‘I’ll send you the link. It’s got over a million views.’
‘As wonderful as that sounds, I’m not looking to get set up with Baslow’s most eligible bachelor right now,’ I replied. My mind couldn’t help flitting back to this time last year when I was sat here with Michael, laughing along while he told everyone a hilarious story about a patient who insisted on taking down his trousers every time they gave him laughing gas. Admittedly, it didn’t seem that funny in hindsight, but when Michael told it, everyone laughed.
‘Everyone needs someone and you don’t get to pick and choose who, where or when they appear,’ Mum said, her voice kind but firm. ‘You might think you can summon a soulmate when the mood suits, but life doesn’t work like that. I know you’re still upset about what happened with Michael but the longer you spend stewing, the harder it’ll be to get back on the horse. And Drew is a nice enough horse, is he not?’
‘There is a bit of centaur about him,’ I admitted. ‘No one would send him to the glue factory for eating biscuits in bed.’
‘He’s a nice man and he’s not bad to look at either,’ she added with a wink. ‘What? I’m sixty-two, I’m not dead.’
‘You will be if you carry on like this.’
‘Time waits for no woman,’ she warned. ‘Don’t waste yours fretting over things you can’t change. We’re all very sorry it didn’t work out with Michael but you can’t spend the rest of your life waiting for him to come to his senses.’
A knock on the window of the conservatory made us both jump, Mum spilling what was left of her punch all down the front of my dress. On the other side of the glass, my dad was waving his arms like he was trying to direct a jumbo jet into Dorothy’s garden. Fantastic, I thought as I waved back. Now I smelled like a cross between a clementine and a sailor on leave. If anyone asked, I’d have to tell them it was a new perfume from Jo Malone, Christingle and Sea Dog.
‘What’s he up to?’ I asked as Dad beckoned us outside.
‘Oh, you know your dad,’ she replied, pulling on her coat. ‘Ever since he retired, he’s had far too much time on his hands.’
The two cups of punch sloshed around in my belly as I stood up and struggled to find my way back into my own jacket. Had the sleeves always been this complicated?
‘You don’t need to tell me.’ I attempted to do the zip five times before the little metal pull slipped out of my fingers and I very nearly punched myself in the nose. ‘I think I’ve talked to him more in the last six months than I have in my entire life.’
‘He’s proud of you, Gwen,’ Mum said, successfully fastening my coat with one sharp tug. ‘It’s a big deal, isn’t it? A woman doing so well at your age at a place like that?We’re both proud of you. Please humour him, for my sake. Some of us still work full time and he’s more trouble than he’s worth now he hasn’t got anywhere to go all day. If only you and Michael had got engaged instead of splitting up, we could have set him on planning the wedding. That would have kept him quiet for weeks.’
A weak attempt at a laugh slipped from my lips.
‘Yeah, that is a shame.’
‘Never mind.’ She led me out to the back door with a brisk smile on her face. ‘Let’s enjoy his surprise and just be grateful he’s only obsessed with your job and not trying to explain NFTs to you. It’s been six months and I still haven’t got a bloody clue what he’s on about.’
Twenty minutes later, we were still waiting outside in the freezing cold darkness, along with what seemed like every living soul in Baslow crammed into Dorothy’s back garden.