The Wedding Date. Jennifer Joyce

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.

      I look at the time. There are almost two hours until the band are due to start their set. It’s going to be a long night.

      The pub has started to fill up a little more by the time we escape the suffocating storeroom. I can’t tell you how glad I am to be out of there. I thought the smell of the sofa was bad, but then Doodle and Munch tried to outdo each other with farts and I would have quite happily shoved my face into the sofa cushions and inhaled deeply to mask their stench. At one point Munch had grabbed the seat of his jeans and waddled out of the room, declaring that he may well have shat himself. He couldn’t be sure and we haven’t seen him since.

      ‘I’m sorry about them,’ Dan says as we shuffle out of the storeroom. We’re carrying bits of drum kit, so it’s a slow walk to the corner of the pub where the band will play shortly. ‘They’re ok once you get to know them.’

      ‘It’s ok.’ I have to remind myself that I’m on a date with Dan and not his mates, otherwise I’ll drop the drum I’m lugging across the room and leg it. ‘They’re not that bad, really.’

      ‘They’re a laugh, aren’t they?’

      Is Dan being serious? ‘Mmm.’ I’m not committing either way. It’s far too soon to pick faults with his mates.

      ‘I’m sorry about Donna too.’ Dan and I dump the kit in the corner before returning to the dreaded storeroom to pick up more. It still stinks. ‘I didn’t think she’d be working tonight. She doesn’t usually do Fridays.’

      ‘It’s fine.’ It’s none of my business, really.

      ‘It only happened once and I was completely off my face. I couldn’t even remember it but Munch filmed it on his phone.’

      ‘He filmed it?’ We pick up more bits of drum and shuffle out of the cupboard. ‘How did you not notice him in your room?’ I have visions of Munch crouching in Dan’s wardrobe, his