Date with Destiny

Chapter Twenty

Shawn has promised to ‘get us in’ at a club after dinner.

Not a thing that has happened to me, since I was seventeen. And even then, I didn’t actually want to get in to said club, I just didn’t want to appear rude when offered. Therefore, I am horrified about this evening’s turn of events.

Toni overheard Myfanwy moaning about all the ‘old people’ at dinner, and excitedly announced that Shawn was going to – and she kept using these words like we were going to a celebrity premiere – get us in to the opening of a fancy club in Central London. Myfanwy and Sonali tried to explain that none of us wanted to be ‘got in’, but then Toni said there could be free drinks and everyone immediately shut up.

So now we’re here, outside this most special of all special clubs, which, from the outside at least, is mostly giving us hideous 1960s grey office block in Zone Six vibes. And the worst part of all is that Shawn hasn’t even got us in; we’ve been in a queue for the last twenty-five minutes.

‘Guess how much these trousers cost?’ Shawn has made most of the conversation since we got here, and much of it has been in this kind of area.

Myfanwy sighs loudly, as Sonali impatiently asks, ‘I thought you were getting us in? It’s freezing out here.’ She gestures at the unmoving snake of people ahead of us as Shawn indiscreetly rolls his eyes.

Toni removes her coat, handing it over to a grateful Sonali, who fixes Shawn with a stern look. ‘You do know prolonged exposure to the cold can fuck up the brain?’

I gasp. ‘Is that going to happen to us?’

She shrugs. ‘Well, no. It’s only mid-November and this is England, but if we end up standing out here all night, it’s definitely a possibility.’ She pauses. ‘If we also removed all our clothes and it dropped about ten degrees. Either way, it’s dangerous out here and Shawn promised to get us in.’

‘I am,’ he explains slowly, as though Sonali were a small child. ‘This is the VIP queue. Believe me, babe, the other queue around the front is five times the length of this one. And even then, the place is so exclusive, they don’t let everyone in from this line. I’ve called in many favours for you all. It’s a good job I basically know everyone in London.’ He nods smugly and Toni smiles eagerly up at him.

‘That’s amazing, Shawn, you’re the best. Thank you so much!’

He bestows a kiss on her cheek and she beams even harder. ‘So?’ He looks around at the three of us.

‘Right, yeah, um, thanks a lot, Shawn?’ I offer, unsure how much gratitude is required when we’re standing in the rain without much movement.

‘You’re welcome,’ he replies magnanimously. ‘But I meant the trousers. How much do you think they cost?’

Myfanwy snorts a little at my side and I try not to look over at her. She’s always getting me in trouble by making me laugh.

‘Gosh, I don’t know…’ I begin, because I’m not totally sure what the rules of this game are. Plus, I’m not aware of how much men’s trousers cost, nor do I – if I’m being completely honest – care. ‘Erm, loads? Like ￡100?’

He looks at me with disdain. ‘Way more.’

‘A hundred and fifty?’ offers Sonali, fiddling with her fringe in a handheld mirror as Toni watches enviously.

‘More!’ Shawn beams.

‘Ten thousand,’ Myfanwy says spitefully and he glowers at her from under his Peaky Blinders flat cap.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, My-Fanny,’ he retorts, forever getting her name wrong. ‘They were ￡250 and I had them customized with my initials on the underside of the inside leg.’

‘Wow!’ Toni and I say with differing levels of sincerity. Simultaneously, Myfanwy and Sonali mutter, ‘Why?’ which is luckily lost in the howls of wind around us.

‘Here,’ he reaches down, lifting up the hem of his trousers to reveal the initials SC.

‘Why have you got Sean Combs’ initials on your trousers?’ Myfanwy asks curiously.

‘Who’s Sean Combs?’ I ask.

‘Puff Daddy,’ Sonali explains.

‘P Diddy,’ Myfanwy corrects.

‘I think he goes by both these days.’ Sonali sounds defensive. ‘Or indeed, just Diddy.’

‘Are we sure SC isn’t for Sean Connery?’ Myfe jumps in, suppressing a smile. ‘Or maybe Simon Cowell?’

‘Or Steve Coogan?’ I offer because I can’t help myself.

‘They’re Shawn’s initials!’ Toni scolds lightly, then glances up at him. ‘Right?’

‘Obviously!’ He looks irritated again. ‘My name is Shawn Cochrane.’

‘Shawn Cock Ring?’ Myfanwy asks in the same innocent tone.

‘Cochrane!’ he raises his voice, his face going a little purplish, and Toni strokes a soothing arm along his jacket shoulder. His expression clears as he continues, ‘I’m actually thinking of getting it as a tattoo.’

‘You’re thinking of getting a cock ring as a tattoo?’ Myfanwy glances with pronounced confusion over at me and Sonali. I shake my head as a warning.

‘No!’ Shawn is livid.

‘Oh, so you’re getting Simon Cowell’s initials tattooed on you?’ she offers helpfully, as the purple hue of Shawn’s face turns orange.

‘MY initials!’ he explodes. ‘Why is this so hard for you to understand, My-Fanny?’

‘Er, baby, is that a leg support you’re wearing?’ Toni searches desperately for a subject change. ‘Are you OK?’ She gestures back down at Shawn’s still-exposed leg, where the edge of an orange band peeks out from beneath his personalized trousers.

Myfanwy gives him an exaggerated squint. ‘Wait, you use a cock ring as a leg support?’

‘No!’ he howls, furious now and I feel bad for him. His basic bitchery is no match for Myfanwy’s scathing wit. ‘No!’ he says again, breathing heavily as he tries to get a handle on his fury. He fingers the gold chain around his neck, taking a second. ‘I have to wear it because of all the squash I play. I’m at the top of the third league at my club.’ He glances down at Toni for reassurance that this is impressive and she rewards him with a huge smile. Though I’m not sure she even knows what squash is. The only thing I know about it is that lots of middle-aged white men play and they get really angry about the whole thing.

‘He’s really good at it.’ Toni looks anxious. ‘I mean, he’s really good at them? Er, um… that?’ Yeah, she has no idea what squash is. Shawn tuts sulkily and we all fall silent. He’s run out of ways to impress us if we are not bowled over by expensive, personalized trousers and squash. What else is there?

In front of us, a group of hot women are talking loudly about what they would call their babies.

‘I really like Sovereign,’ one is saying in a lazy posh trawl. She has an eighties perm that somehow looks terrible and very cool all at once. I blame the curly girl method. ‘They use that word on the news a lot when they’re talking about the royal family and it feels really, I don’t know, regal or something, yah?’ The two others nod aggressively. The perm continues, ‘Or I’m thinking something even more original, like, maybe Comma? The private tutor Mummy hired to get me into Oxford used to say that word a lot and Raphy was the cleverest person I ever met. I was so upset when Daddy sacked him. All he did was sleep with me and my sister – it was outrageously unfair.’

‘I never know where to use commas,’ says the shortest of the three conversationally, ignoring the statutory rape.

The second woman pipes up, ‘A girl I know at the stables just called her baby Astrophel. Apparently it means the star lover!’ She throws her long wavy hair back, showing off the largest, most garish earrings I’ve ever seen.

Perm snorts, ‘It does not mean star lover!’ She waves her hand dismissively and it’s clear she is the leader. ‘It’s that comma thing you put in the air, yah? You know, like in don’t, or isn’t. Raphy spent weeks explaining about the astrophel. He only shut up about it after I gave him a blowie.’

The earrings woman scrunches her face up, clearly wondering whether this is worth challenging. ‘I think that’s an apostrophe actually,’ she says quietly but loud enough to be met with a menacing stare.

‘Well,’ the shortest says quickly, ‘I’ve decided on Harissa for my first child.’

Perm nods approvingly. ‘That’s very good.’

‘Thanks,’ she replies, delighted. ‘I found it in a cookbook.’

I turn wide-eyed to Myfanwy and Sonali, who are struggling to keep it together.

‘I really like Harissa, too,’ Sonali says in a whisper. ‘Especially on my chicken.’

‘I’m going to call my firstborn Celeriac Puree,’ I tell her in a low voice. ‘Or maybe Tarte Tatin?’

‘Gorgeous.’ Myfanwy gives me an on-point chef’s kiss before adding, ‘I’ve been considering Remoulade for a girl and Emulsion for a boy.’

Sonali shuffles closer. ‘How about Penny?’ We cock our heads at her and she smirks, ‘Penny Pasta.’

We hide mouths behind hands, trying to contain our joy.

‘I can’t really talk,’ I say through giggles. ‘I’m named after an alcoholic beverage.’ As we all dissolve into more laughter, I turn to look for my accompanying mixer. But Toni and Shawn have stepped away and are now engaged in conversation with the posh food fans. Heated conversation.

‘No,’ he’s saying with irritation. ‘Shawn is actually an incredibly cool name! It’s much better than Amadeus or Mazikeen!’

‘Show them your trouser initials, baby,’ Toni says helpfully, without a trace of mocking.

‘Oh my gawwwwwd,’ Perm says as he scrambles to pull up his hem again. ‘You don’t have those dreadful trews?’ She turns to her cohorts. ‘Annabellisey, Penelopicity, do you remember my awfers ex, Square? Remember how he used to wear those? Oh my gawd! I can’t believe peeps are still wearing those!’ She turns back to Shawn, who is horrified and purple again.

‘YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT FASHION!’ he shouts as the young women regard him with amusement.

‘Why do I work for a premium fashion website then, Shawn?’ Perm asks archly and he blusters.

‘Probably because your daddy owns it!’ he gets out at last, hit by a moment of clarity.

She pouts and then raises her voice. ‘Just because he owns it doesn’t mean I automatically got the job. I’m so sick of everyone accusing rich and famous people of helping their children also become rich and famous. Me and Brooklyn Beckham are so misunderstood. Daddy hasn’t employed my little sister, so that proves it! And he won’t even when she gets out of rehab.’

I glance over at Myfanwy and Sonali, who are both enjoying all this drama immensely. I want to remind her that the idiot man-child over there is my baby sister’s boyfriend. A man she plans on marrying.

I glance over at Toni, who looks mortified and like she is close to tears. What is she doing with him? She’s so lovely and kind and beautiful. She could have anyone; why is she settling for this absolute idiot? Is this really all that’s on offer out there in the dating world? If so, I’m doomed. Maybe I should be trying to get back with Daniel.

On the other hand, is it purely love that’s making me want to run back into his arms? Or is it the fear of ending up with only options like this guy in front of me, shouting at women half his age over what is cool and what is not cool.

No, I don’t think it’s just that. I really do miss Daniel. I ache for him. I miss the smell of him, the heaviness of his body next to me in bed, the way he’d grin and ruffle my hair when I brought him coffee in the morning.

I pull out my phone, rain drip-dripping onto the screen as people yell all around me. I find Daniel’s last message and start to type…

‘GINNY!’ a new shouty voice finds me and I jump, throwing my phone back into my coat pocket. There is something I recognize about the…

Oh my god. It can’t be.

The shouter bounds over to me in short leaps, a huge smile across his familiar features.

It’s Mikey. Mikey Yates from a thousand years ago.

Mikey and I dated for a year when I was twenty-four. He was my first serious relationship.

I gasp out his name as he gathers me up in a huge bear hug.

Instantly, I think of one of the predictions. About someone coming back into my life. It couldn’t be about him?

He pulls back, flashing the biggest row of white teeth. I’m sure his smile was never so bright and perfect? He looks great; all glossy and sheeny. His hair is just long enough to tuck behind an ear, and he does so now as he takes me in.

‘Ginny Bretherton!’ he says in an exhale as he smiles again. ‘I can’t believe it’s you, this is so weird! Like fate or destiny!’ The fortune teller’s face flashes across my vision. He continues, oblivious, ‘I came over to see what all the shouting was about.’ He waves at Shawn and the tall women. ‘Why is that purple old guy yelling at Trinny Woodall with a perm?’

My friends burst out laughing and I turn to them.

‘Myfanwy, Sonali, do you guys remember Mikey?’ There are looks of only vague recognition, so I add, ‘My first serious boyfriend!’ I say it lightly but Mikey turns to me with surprise.

‘You were serious about me?’ He throws an arm around my shoulder and squeezes me close. ‘I was serious about you, but I didn’t think anyone ever took me seriously.’

I giggle, embarrassed, and change tact. ‘So, how are you? What are you up to these days? Apart from hunting through VIP queues for good times.’

‘Oooh, VIP queue is it?’ he says teasingly and his twinkly grey eyes make me feel a little faint. ‘You always were too cool for me.’

‘Stop it,’ I lightly swat at him and catch Myfanwy’s eyebrows shoot up. She’s never seen me attempt to flirt. I’m not sure I have either. If this could even be classed as flirting.

‘You were!’ he insists, moving closer again. He cocks his head, looking at me and a tuft of too-long hair falls across his face. I visualize myself reaching up to push it away, like they do in the films.

‘We should catch up properly,’ I hear myself say, even though it cannot possibly be me. I’m not forward like that, I’m too much of a coward, but something about Mikey always made me feel braver. Maybe it was all the sex we used to have. It was constant.

‘I’d bloody love that!’ he says, grinning as we swap numbers. I grin back so hard my jaw hurts.

As he waves goodbye, after planting a soft kiss on my cheek that isn’t so much a promise, as some kind of sexy swear, Myfanwy grabs me by the shoulders.

‘You know what this is, don’t you?’ Her eyes are wild.

‘It’s Mikey?’ I offer and she laughs maniacally.

‘This is prediction number four, the person you thought lost forever.’

My brow furrows. ‘I considered that, but I don’t know…’ Her grip on my shoulder loosens and she looks disappointed. ‘I mean, he might be!’ I try to offer hope. ‘It’s just that a part of me always thought I’d see Mikey again one day… We didn’t end on bad terms, we were just young and always bickering.’ I pause then smile brightly. ‘But he could be my soulmate? This could be prediction number six instead of number four?’

At this Myfanwy throws back her head, laughing. ‘That guy?’ she scoffs. ‘He seems fun, but I doubt he’s meant to be your soulmate. I remember now how all over the place he was ten years ago and he still has that same energy. You’d end up running around after him, cleaning up his messes like some kind of puppy. You’re too much of a people pleaser and he’s too much of a people dis-pleaser.’ She turns to look again in the direction Mikey’s walked off. ‘Sexy though. I like his hair.’ She pauses. ‘No, he might be number four, but he’s surely not number six.’ She straightens up, regarding me seriously. ‘And he could also be an excellent palate cleanser…’

‘Palate cleanser?’ I raise my eyebrows even though I’m very clear on the implication.

She shrugs. ‘Y’know! Just shag him for a bit and see what happens. You do fancy him, don’t you?’

I nod, because I can’t deny that much. Mikey’s hot in a confusing way. He wouldn’t work in a picture – he’s too sort of wonky and messy, even with his teeth fixed. But in motion, he becomes so attractive. He’s, I dunno, bewitching. People always flocked around him when we were together. Like he was the hottest man in the room. I guess it doesn’t help that he’s also one of the funniest, cheekiest guys I’ve ever met.

Or maybe it’s all just nostalgia. He takes me back to a time in my life before I had to worry about the cost-of-living crisis, or evil politicians, or climate-change guilt. Whatever it is, I definitely fancy him.

Myfanwy grins happily as she adds, ‘It could also help you get Daniel out of your system.’

My heart thuds harder in my chest. I haven’t told Myfanwy about Daniel’s sudden reappearance in my life last month – or his follow-up messages. I don’t really know why not. I think maybe I just wanted to figure out what I want to do about it before I hear from her what I should do. It’s not that she wouldn’t be supportive – she’s the biggest cheerleader in the world about everything I do – but I also know she’d remind me of everything that’s happened. Believe me when I say I definitely don’t need reminding. It’s all here, replaying in my head on a nightly circuit whenever I close my eyes to sleep.

‘Maybe,’ I shrug, thinking how fun it would be to spend some commitment-free time with Mikey. He was always such a laugh. It would be so nice to enjoy a bit of affection and some silliness without having to wonder if this is The One, or what he might be thinking, or where this is going.

Myfanwy brings her head closer to mine. ‘Let’s go after him,’ she stage-whispers. ‘We’ll offer to take him for a drink, then Sonali and I can make an excuse and leave you guys to it. Come on! Let’s get you laid!’

I make a face. ‘What about those two?’ I gesture at Toni and Shawn, who are now arguing with different people in the queue. ‘Aren’t we meant to be having a fancy VIP night in this exclusive celebrity hotspot?’

Sonali snorts. ‘We haven’t moved an inch along this queue for forty-five minutes! And those two,’ she waves at Toni and Shawn, ‘have barely noticed we’re here. I think Shawn’s really only interested in having an audience for his shit anecdotes.’

Myfanwy giggles. ‘He really doesn’t need human beings with ears, he needs smiley mannequins with working neck muscles that can nod.’

‘It’s a fair point,’ I concede, feeling bad for my nodding, smiling sister. ‘But oh no!’ I gasp. ‘I really wanted to know what baby names those women ended up deciding on!’ I gesture sadly at the posh women ahead of us.

We all laugh as Myfanwy urges, ‘Let’s make a run for it!’

I dart towards Toni, kissing her breathlessly on the cheek and whispering a quick sorry in her ear. Her mouth hangs open as the whole lot of us turn and sprint out of that awful queue, away from the non-VIPs, away from my poor sister and her terrible boyfriend – and off to find my palate cleanser.