Chapter Nine
Salt and vinegar Hula Hoops or Wotsits? I’m standing in front of the crisps section of the minimarket around the corner from the flat, trying to decide between the share bags of crisps for our romcomathon.
Oh, sod it. Why not both?
I grab the Wotsits, drop them into my basket and reach for the Hula Hoops.
‘Good choice.’ The guy next to me grabs the next bag of Hula Hoops, his eyes dropping to my basket.
‘Good choices.’ He smiles at me, his eyes crinkling at the edges.
He’s cute, in a scruffy, Britpop kind of way, like he’s time-travelled from the Nineties and kept the floppy hair and baggy T-shirt look.
With my own combats and loose-fitting T-shirt, our chill style goes well together. ‘What are the chances?’
I look from my basket to his, which both contain Wotsits, Haribo Supermix and bags of salty and sweet popcorn. Our baskets are identical. Weird.
‘Movie night.’ I add the Hula Hoops to my basket and he does the same. ‘For me and my friends. I won’t be eating this all myself.’ My cheeks heat up. Of course I won’t be eating all this myself; I’d burst if I attempted it.
‘I’m sharing as well, apart from these.’ He picks up his Hula Hoops and gives them a jiggle. ‘I do not share Hula Hoops. They are the king of all crisps.’
‘I think pickled onion Monster Munch would have something to say about that.’ I take a couple of steps to the side and grab a bag of my favourite crisps. ‘They’re far superior to Hula Hoops, surely.’
He wrinkles his nose. ‘Not even close.’
‘What?’ My mouth drops open. ‘You don’t like pickled onion Monster Munch?’
He shrugs. ‘They’re not bad, but there are far better king-worthy crisps out there. Hula Hoops – of any flavour – obviously. Then there’s Frazzles, Nice ‘N’ Spicy Nik Naks, beef Space Raiders. They’re all top tier.’
‘How do you feel about hand-cooked crisps?’ I feel you can find out a lot about someone by their view of hand-cooked crisps.
‘Not a fan.’ He shrugs again. ‘Sorry.’
‘No.’ My eyes widen. ‘Don’t be sorry. I can’t stand them. They’re so…’
‘Pretentious?’
‘Yes! And they’re too thick and hard. I always feel like I need dental work after chomping my way through a bag. Luckily, I have a friend who’s an excellent dentist, but not everybody is so lucky.’
My crisp aficionado companion nods. ‘I get you. They’re definitely bottom tier.’
‘It’s nice to meet someone who’s as passionate about crisps as I am.’ I narrow my eyes. ‘Even if you are opposed to pickled onion Monster Munch.’
He holds his arms out, basket and all. ‘Hey, at least I’d never make you share.’
I laugh and nod my head. ‘You make a very good point.’ Because I’m going to have to fight Jonah for these Monster Munch.They’re also a favourite of his, and I’m pretty sure Rhys will set his sights on them too.
That boy will eat anything. I’m not sure how Thea or Freddie feel about them, but how could they resist such an elite snack?
Maybe I should add another bag to my basket, just in case…
‘Is it only crisps you feel passionate about? Or is it all snacks?’ Crisps Man keeps his eyes on me as he backs up the aisle, stopping when he reaches the biscuits. ‘When considering dunkability, which would be your go-to? Custard cream or chocolate Hobnob?’
‘Er, neither.’ I march down the aisle and pick up a packet of digestives. ‘These are the queen of tea dunkers.’
Crisps Man splutters. ‘Digestives? Plain digestives? Are you having a laugh?’
‘Absolutely not. These are perfect for dipping: sturdy and not too sweet.’
Crisps Man shakes his head. ‘You are very wrong, but we can agree to disagree.’ He moves along the aisle a bit more.
‘There is one question that will determine whether we can be friends though.’ He crouches down, grabbing a rectangular box, which he presents to me as he stands. ‘Jaffa Cakes. Cake or biscuit?’
‘Duh. The clue is in the name. Jaffa Cake.’ I take the box from him and place it in my basket. I can’t believe I forgot the Jaffa Cakes.
‘It happened again.’ I dump my shopping bags on the worktop and turn to face Jonah, who’s followed me into the kitchen. ‘I had another meet-cute.’
‘What? Where? You only went to the shop.’
‘That’s where it happened. We both had the exact same items in our baskets. It was weird. But also kind of cool?’ I delve into one of the shopping bags and pull out the bag of Hula Hoops. ‘We got chatting and then he asked for my number.’
‘Did you give it to him?’
I turn to give Jonah my best duh look.
‘Even after what happened with Leonardo?’
I pull out the Monster Munch and set them down on the worktop. ‘He was an anomaly.’ Jonah reaches for the Monster Munch. I slap his hand away. He frowns at me before getting to work on the other bag, pulling out the popcorn and sweets. ‘What about Morgan and Ethan?’
‘Also anomalies.’
‘And you think this guy… this…’
‘Conrad.’
‘You think this Conrad isn’t? That he could be The One?’
I shrug and delve into the shopping bag again. ‘I’ll never know if I don’t give him a chance, will I?’
We prep the snacks, pouring the crisps and popcorn into bowls, and setting everything out on the coffee table in the living room.
I grab the face mask sheets from the bathroom while Jonah makes a mini pile of the DVDs we plan to watch.
Thea is the first of our guests to arrive, brandishing more snacks and posh-looking bottles of cordial and tonic water, and Rhys arrives a few minutes later with a six-pack of craft beer.
I know he doesn’t really want to be here – romcoms are not his thing – but he’s here anyway, for me, because I’d begged him to come because I couldn’t face spending several hours with Freddie without him there to share sly, snarky looks with. That’s what best friends are for.
Thea is on one end of the sofa, her phone on the arm in case she gets called into work, and Rhys is slumped on the other, already glugging back the beer, as though it will anaesthetise him against the fluffy fun and frolics of the films, and I plonk myself between them while Jonah takes the armchair.
The first film is ready to go but we’re still waiting for Freddie.
My phone pings with a message and I snatch it up from the table, my pulse quickening as I open the message. But I slump in my seat again when I see it’s only a spam text.
‘What’s going on here then?’ Rhys waves his beer in the direction of my phone. ‘Has DiCaprio confessed the coffee date with his BFF – boop – was a prank but he’s ready to get serious?’
‘Nope.’ Jonah answers for me. ‘This is another guy she’s waiting to hear from.’
‘Another guy?’ Rhys shifts on the sofa so he’s fully facing me. ‘What? Who?’
I slide my phone onto the table, between the bowls of Monster Munch and salty popcorn. ‘His name’s Conrad.’
‘And she picked him up with the snacks.’ Jonah pulls his chin back as I glare at him. ‘What? You did.’
‘I didn’t pick him up. We got chatting, that’s all.’ I shrug, mock-coyly. ‘I can’t help being utterly charming.’
‘Have you sent him a cheeky text yet?’
I shake my head in response to Rhys’s question. ‘I gave him my number, but I don’t have his.’
Rhys tuts and shakes his head. ‘That was an oversight. You should be in control here. The ball should be in your court. Don’t let him hog it.’
‘He’s right. There’s nothing worse than not being in control of your own life.’ Thea selects a carrot baton from the vegetable platter she brought and plunges it into the creamy dip.
‘That’s the thing though: I don’t think I am in control. Because the meet-cute thing happened again.’
Jonah scoffs at me. ‘You really believe fate or whatever is throwing these men into your path?’
I shrug. ‘It seems that way. This is the fourth time it’s happened since I made that wish.’
‘But wishes don’t really come true. You know that, don’t you?’ Jonah’s tone is gentle, as though he’s talking to a small child.
‘Of course I know that.’ Except I’m starting to think that sometimes they do.
‘I think you’re mad believing in this meet-cute wish thing.’ Rhys shrugs as I narrow my eyes at him. ‘But you believe it, and I believe in you, so I say go with it. Whatever makes you happy.’
I start as my phone pings, heart racing at the prospect that my true love has reached out, but it isn’t my phone at all. It’s Jonah’s and his face falls as he reads the message.
‘Freddie can’t make it.’
We all make sympathetic noises but I don’t think anyone on the sofa is disappointed by the news.
I keep checking my phone as we watch My Best Friend’s Wedding, in case a text has come through without alerting me, but I am without message throughout the film.
There is no contact from my minimarket mate during Runaway Bride either and the hope that there ever will be has diminished by the time Hugh Grant spills orange juice down the front of Julia Roberts’ bright white T-shirt in Notting Hill.
It was stupid, really, to believe that my wish had come true.
‘Don’t worry.’ Rhys leans in, his voice low as Hugh takes Julia back to his flat and offers her a jar of apricots in honey. ‘If this meet-cute thing doesn’t work out, we can always hook up.’
I flick my eyes up to the ceiling and shake my head.
‘We would never work as a couple. We have nothing in common.’ Rhys is really into football – to the point that he’d hoped to play professionally until a couple of years ago, when he enrolled at uni to pursue a new dream of becoming a PE teacher – and I’d rather walk barefoot through dogshit than watch a match.
Rhys has the patience of a saint (which comes in handy when he volunteers as a coach for a community under-tens football team), while my serenity levels are dangerously low, and while I like to draw, Rhys struggles to even doodle stick men (though he did perfect the cock and balls graffiti during his youth, apparently).
We are as mismatched as odd socks, and while I love him to death, it’s in a best friend way only.
Besides, I want to fall in love and settle down, while Rhys is taking part in an unsponsored shag-a-thon.
My phone pings and I fly at it, my hand nearly swiping the almost-empty bowl of popcorn off the table in my eagerness to grab it. It’s Conrad! I knew my wish had come true! Except it isn’t my phone again. It’s Thea’s this time.
‘Ugh. Just Mum.’ She taps out a quick reply and sets her phone down again, grabbing a cucumber stick and scooping up the last of the dip with it before settling back against the sofa and focusing on the film.
We get to my favourite bit, the ‘Ain’t No Sunshine’ scene where Hugh walks through the market and the seasons change around him, when the doorbell chimes.
Jonah is out of his seat before it’s even finished ringing, no doubt hoping it’s Freddie, unexpectedly able to make it after all, but I can tell by his face as he shuffles back into the living room that it wasn’t his boyfriend.
‘Mum and Dad are here.’ He aims his mumble at Thea as he slopes back to the chair and flops down into it. His parents follow, with Farrah marching ahead. She stops in front of the telly, turning to face the sofa.
‘Where are they?’ Her question is for Thea, her eyebrow arched as she addresses her daughter.
Thea tilts her head to one side. ‘Where are who?’
Farrah widens her eyes. ‘Asher and Francesca-Rose. You know, your children.’
I hear the teeniest, tiniest of sighs from Thea. ‘First of all, your granddaughter’s name is Frankie-Rose. It has never been and will never be Francesca. Please use her actual name. And second of all, they’re with Daniel. Their father.’
‘But they’re not at home. We’ve been there. Haven’t we, Keith?’ Farrah looks at her husband, who nods to confirm this. ‘The house is empty.’
Thea shrugs. ‘Maybe he’s taken them to the park? Or to his mum and dad’s?’
‘But we wanted to see them.’
‘I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know you’d be popping round.’ Thea pushes herself up off the sofa. ‘Shall I put the kettle on? Or there’s some lovely raspberry and lime cordial?’
Farrah shakes her head. ‘We’re not stopping.’ She turns then to face Jonah, and I can practically feel the dissatisfaction radiating off her as she heaves a sigh. ‘Why are you sitting around when you could be doing something more productive with your life?’
Jonah flicks the corners of his mouth upwards. ‘It’s called having downtime with your friends, Mum.’
Farrah snorts. ‘Downtime? From what?’
‘I was working earlier, actually.’
Farrah tilts her head so she’s looking up at the ceiling.
‘Work? You mean playing dress-up and puppets?’ Jonah loves his job, with its fun and creativity and variety, but his mother does not.
‘Acting the clown isn’t a proper job, Jonah.
It isn’t a career. You need to find something more suitable.
Something more stable and professional.’
Something Farrah can brag about to her friends, I think but keep to myself.
‘You need a job that pays well so you can move out of this poky little place and buy a proper home. A home you can settle down in and raise a family. And speaking of settling down, have you come to your senses about Frederick?’ Farrah almost shudders, and for once I agree with her.
‘He’s a shelf-stacker, for goodness’ sake. ’
Okay, agreement over. There are many, many reasons why Jonah shouldn’t be with Freddie – him being a massive arsehole is far out in front – but his employment at a supermarket isn’t one of them. ‘Can you imagine Dorothea marrying Daniel if his ambitions had been so low?’
Thea leans forward. ‘I married Daniel because I fell in love with him, not because he wanted to take over his father’s dental practice one day.’
Farrah ignores her daughter’s input. ‘You need to sort your life out, Jonah. Follow your sister’s lead.’
Thea splutters. ‘I’m the last person you want to follow if you want a sorted-out life.’
Again, Farrah ignores her and ploughs on. ‘Are you going to flit from one disastrous relationship to another forever? Or are you going to finally settle down?’
Jonah folds his arms across his chest. ‘Maybe I want to settle down with Freddie.’
Farrah shakes her head, exhaling loudly through her nose. ‘No, Jonah. I am not having a shelf-stacker for a son-in-law.’
She turns then, marching from the room, her husband following like a chastened puppy as she forges through into the hall. A moment later, the front door clicks shut behind them. It’s at that moment my phone pings – and it is my phone this time – with a message from Conrad.