The Wedding Date. Jennifer Joyce

and the revivals like Hairspray.’ I tilt my head to one side as I scrub at a particularly stubborn clump on a wooden spoon. ‘But I think my absolute favourite has to be Annie – the original – as it was the first one I watched. My grandma bought me the video one Christmas and I was hooked.’ I’m half tempted to break out into the chorus of “Tomorrow” but manage to restrain myself. ‘It makes me feel like a little girl again whenever I watch it.’

      ‘Wow.’ Adam takes the wooden spoon from me and wipes it dry. ‘You put a lot of thought into that.’ He’s grinning at me, so I’m pretty sure Adam is only teasing but my cheeks start to feel hot. Ben always said my love of musicals, and Annie in particular, was juvenile. Perhaps he was right.

      ‘I’m going to check on the ice cream.’ I dry my hands on a towel before switching off the ice cream maker and checking the consistency. I’m not entirely sure what we’re aiming for but it should be done about now so I pour the mixture into a large tub and pop it into the freezer.

      ‘This has been fun,’ Adam says when I return to the sink with the ice cream maker’s mixing bowl and paddle. ‘We should think of some more recipes to put on the blog. It beats being squeezed into the office.’

      ‘Don’t you like being squeezed up against Katey-Louise?’ I’m blatantly fishing to see if he fancies her and want to bite off my tongue as soon as the words are out of my mouth. The last thing I want is to make Adam think I fancy him. Because I don’t. Obviously.

      Ok maybe a teeny bit, but only from afar. I can appreciate a gorgeous man without wanting to hop into the sack with him, can’t I?

      ‘She seems nice enough but she’s a bit young for me. How old is she? Twenty, twenty-one?’

      ‘Nineteen.’

      Adam’s eyes widen. They’re a beautiful, rich brown framed by thick, dark lashes. I’m not paying particular attention to his eyes (or any other body part) but they’re hard to miss when they’re popping out.

      ‘Wow. Nineteen.’ Adam gives a sigh. ‘To be nineteen again.’

      I can’t help but laugh at his serious tone. ‘You sound like you’re a pensioner. You’re still young. Relatively.’ I stick my tongue out at Adam and he whips me with his towel. ‘Seriously though, you’re what? Early thirties?’

      ‘Very early. Thirty-one.’

      ‘See. That’s barely out of your twenties.’ I finish washing the ice cream maker equipment and empty the water out of the washing up bowl. ‘There’s plenty of life left in you, I’m sure.’

      ‘I hope so.’

      I grab a towel and help Adam to finish drying. Once everything is put away and we’ve wiped down the counters, we join Karen in a little room off the kitchen where she’s now sitting with a cup of tea.

      ‘All done?’ Karen asks. She’s sitting on the sofa with a magazine, her shoes kicked off to one side and her hairnet slung over the arm of the sofa. ‘Help yourself to a cup of tea or coffee. I wish I could offer you a biscuit but they’ve all been wolfed down.’ She surreptitiously swipes at a few crumbs on her white overalls.

      ‘Thanks but I should be getting back to the office.’ Adam holds up the camera he’s looped around his neck. ‘I need to get the photos and recipes uploaded on the blog. I’m hoping the cheesecake one will be ready to go live tomorrow.’

      ‘I’d better be getting back too.’ I’d have quite liked to sit and skive with a cup of tea for a few minutes, but it won’t look right if Adam returns without me. This is his project after all and I’m only assisting him.

      ‘Thanks for all your help,’ Adam says to Karen. Her eyes are firmly on her magazine and she doesn’t lift them as she raises a hand to wave goodbye.

      ‘No worries. Give me a shout if you need any more help in the kitchen.’

      The development kitchen is only a short walk away from the Portakabin office but Adam and I take our time, stretching out the time we have left before we join the others as much as possible. This is it; our little project is pretty much at an end. Tomorrow Adam will take the ice cream and rocky road out of the fridge and freezer to take some more photos for the blog but he won’t need my help for that. So it’s back to the real world of work, which for me means plenty of filing, typing up letters and emails and answering the phone while pretending Katey-Louise isn’t fluttering around the place.

      ‘Any exciting plans for the weekend?’ Adam asks as we wander across to the Portakabin.

      ‘I have plans,’ I tell him. ‘But I’m not sure how exciting they’ll be. My friend’s a PE teacher so I’m going to watch his pupils take part in a five-a-side tournament.’ This is Lauren’s idea, and not because she wants to support Ryan. The five-a-side tournament is, apparently, the perfect place for me to meet a potential Wedding Date.

      ‘I want to take a grownup as my date, not a pubescent boy,’ I’d pointed out and Lauren had looked at me as though I was dense.

      ‘I’m not expecting you to date the players. I’m talking about the spectators, you doofus.’

      So I’m going to be spending my Saturday morning on a muddy football pitch instead of hanging around the house in my PJs.

      Joy.

      ‘How about you?’ I ask Adam. ‘Any plans, exciting or otherwise?’

      ‘I’ll be looking after my nephews.’ Adam reaches for the Portakabin door and holds it open for me. ‘I might even give the rocky road recipe a go with them.’

      Hanging out with a couple of kids? Suddenly that muddy field seems a lot more alluring.

       Chapter 9

      Jumping Straight Back Into The Dating Game

       Text Message:

      Ryan: Code Red

      Delilah: Eh?

      Ryan: Code Red. I’m on a date with that girl I met on Twitter. Code Red means she’s a fruitcake so you need to phone me with an emergency so I can get out of here

      Delilah: Do your own dirty work! Pig!

      Ryan: Come on, Delilah. Please!

      Ryan: Code Red!

      Ryan: CODE RED!

      ‘See anybody you fancy?’

      Lauren and I are standing out on a muddy field, pretending we’re not utterly miserable as Ryan’s football team plays against another local school. Ryan is in his element, jogging up and down the perimeter while yelling encouragement to his pupils. This isn’t my favourite way to spend my Saturday mornings but Lauren and I try to support Ryan whenever we can’t think of a reason to get out of it and, it turns out, when I’m on the hunt for a man.

      ‘I keep telling you, this isn’t about fancying anybody.’ I blow on my fingers to try to warm them up but it doesn’t work. ‘I’m not looking for an actual boyfriend.’

      ‘I know, I know.’ Lauren rolls her eyes. ‘You’re looking for a temporary love interest.’

      ‘Love doesn’t even come into it!’ My heart isn’t going anywhere near this project. It’s in tatters enough as it is.

      Lauren lets out an exasperated puff of air. ‘It’s a figure of speech.’ We both jump as a roar erupts around us; Ryan’s team has scored a goal. We cheer along and pretend we’ve been paying attention to the match. ‘But you have to find the guy attractive, right? You can’t date somebody you don’t fancy.’

      ‘I can.’ And I will – it’ll probably make this whole project easier. Nothing