said Sam. ‘She’s squeezing us in between appointments on Thursday. Coming into the studio to do it live. Are you still happy with the expenses angle?’
‘Yes, just make sure we cover it subtly; we don’t want a diplomatic row – no duck houses or anything. Rob will do a great job with it, I’m sure.’
‘Okay, Bob. No prob.’
She winked at me. Bob arranged his new purchases amongst his old: cough linctus, a bottle of eucalyptus, a jiffy bag of echinacea capsules and a man-sized box of tissues. His hands tend to flicker between all these miracle medicines like he’s the pinball wizard. But there is no twist. Bob with cold is just unbearable.
I settled at my desk and attempted to tidy it. I was in a rush when I left on Friday night and had left it in a bit of a state. It was less cluttered than it used to be, though; I used to have photos of me and Jeff everywhere, even a photo of me and Jeff and that cow, which had obviously been ceremoniously burnt (not really, but I had chucked it in the big black bin round the back of the studio). Now there were just three gorgeous photos of Freya, from babyhood to today, the most recent of her on her first day at Smith College London. My girl. I was so bloody proud of her. I logged onto my computer and tried to get my head round checking the rolling information for today’s forecast. It was going to be a long day.
My first bulletin was at twenty past nine. It’s always a bit of a rush to get that one written but it went well. It wasn’t a particularly complex weather story today. Grey skies all day – but no rain. A light north-westerly breeze and temperatures averaging ten degrees. Cold for the early autumn but not unheard of. My task for the day, really, after gathering all the information from the satellite and radar pictures, was to think of seven different ways to say the same thing. Easy: I just enjoyed talking about the weather. Rob Wright was very cheery this morning and we had a little bit of banter after my bulletin about pet reptiles, one of his featured topics this morning. I made him laugh by drily saying ‘I’m more of a cat person,’ and he cut to the beginning of a record, grinning.
‘Lovely job, Daryl. See you for the next.’
‘Thanks, Rob.’
When I arrived back at my desk from the studio, Sam was waiting there, waggling two sachets of green tea.
‘Ugh, I don’t want that,’ I said. ‘I want cake and hot chocolate and cheesy mashed potato, preferably all at once.’
‘Aw, please come and make a hot drink with me? There’s something I want to talk to you about.’
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘As it’s you.’
I trotted after her to the radio station’s kitchen. It has hideous saloon type doors which ricochet off each other about twenty times after someone has pushed through them. They were still going after the kettle had boiled.
‘Only twenty-five calories per cup,’ she said to me, as she poured boiling water into mugs.
‘Yummy.’
‘Hey, remember that forecast thing we did yesterday?’
‘Oh, yeah! I’d forgotten all about that.’ I had actually. I hadn’t forgotten chucking my wedding ring in the fountain though. I kept going to twist it round my finger, like I always used to, and it was still odd it wasn’t there any more. It was good, though. It was all good.
‘What was my forecast again? A ninety percent chance of falling on my face, sorry, falling in love by Friday.’
‘Ninety-nine percent.’
‘Oh, yes, pardon me. What a load of hooey,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘And I certainly won’t fall in love this Friday. It’ll be the last thing on my mind. I’ve got Freya’s graduation and Jeff’s going to be there.’ I pulled a face. The nearer it got, the more I was starting to dread it.
‘You’ll be okay,’ said Sam. ‘You’re strong now. Anyway, it says by Friday. So it could be before. I think we should at least give it a chance.’
‘But I told you yesterday,’ I said. ‘I think I did, anyway – it’s all a bit hazy. I don’t want to fall in love. Love hurts, cheats and fails. It leads to no good. I just wouldn’t mind a few dates, here and there, that’s all. Though I really don’t know where I’m going to find any. And please don’t say online dating again,’ I added, quickly. ‘No way am I doing that! Don’t even think about it!’
‘Okay,’ said Sam, stirring the teas before lifting out the squashed tea bags and lobbing them in the bin. ‘No online dating. But I think you should try and date as many men as you can this week. Starting tonight.’
‘Tonight. Right. A Monday night. What do you want me to do, just go and grab someone off the street? See if Bob Sullivan’s free?’ Bob had been single for years – who would have him, with that nose? ‘I really don’t fancy spending the evening listening to him coughing over a tin of Fisherman’s Friends.’
‘No! Not Bob, and not someone off the street.’ She paused, sucked the end of her spoon, then paused again. ‘Speed dating.’
‘Speed dating!’
‘Yep.’
‘Do they still do that? Wasn’t that a noughties thing?’
‘Well, yeah, it was. But they still do it. It’s evolved.’
‘Into what? You now go round the tables on a Segway?’ I sighed. ‘I can’t imagine anything worse, Sam. A bunch of unattractive singles moving from table to table like a sad carousel.’ I attempted a sip of the green tea then put it down on the side again. ‘Isn’t it for losers who’ve looked for love in all the right places and come up with nothing?’
‘What a delightful picture you paint! And I’m not a loser, and neither are you!’
‘I’m not going!’
‘Listen, there’s one in Wimbledon tonight, at the Old Brewery, and I think we should go. Think how many men will be there – all under one roof!’
‘That’s what’s putting me off!’ I countered. ‘I said I fancied a few dates, not to have to face a roomful of gagging-for-it men. I’m not sure, Sam, I’m all hungover and… I don’t feel I’m ready!’
‘Of course you’re ready, you’ve said so! And if you’re not, I am! Some of them might be quite nice. Please come with me.’
‘Ah, right, so this is all about you!’ I put a teasing arm round her waist. ‘Talk about emotional blackmail!’ She put a return arm round me and gave me a pleading look. We resembled a pair of same-sex figure skaters. ‘Okay, I’ll think about it.’
‘Great!’
‘I’m going back to my desk now. Thanks for the tea. You know I’m not going to drink it, don’t you?’
‘Yes, I know.’
My next bulletin was at three minutes past eleven, straight after the news. I had time to think about Sam’s proposition. Even actually in the noughties, when speed dating first
