Leaving Ren behind, I powered through his front garden to find a wide-eyed Bel waiting in the street. Her hair was curled with casual perfection, subtle make-up expertly applied, and she was dressed in a tiny handkerchief dress, tied around her neck and skimming her body like a sigh. Bel Johnson was a vision. A vision who looked like she was about to bring up her breakfast, lunch and dinner.
‘What do you mean, you don’t know if you can do this?’ I hissed, holding my phone up in front of her face, so she could read her own text. ‘Everything’s ready, he’s waiting for you.’
‘What if he hates me?’ she whimpered. ‘What if he thinks I’m dumb? This is a bad idea, I’m going to text him and cancel.’
She pulled a dinky little flip phone out of a dinky little handbag, only letting out the tiniest shriek when I slapped it out of her hands. The thought of him getting her text, wondering what was wrong and feeling so disappointed was all too much.
‘You can’t cancel now,’ I said, clutching her phone tightly. ‘We’ve been through this. He won’t think you’re dumb, because you’re not dumb. It’s going to be amazing and you’re going to have the best time.’
When I wasn’t climbing up ladders, hanging lights and vastly misjudging how long it would take to drive five miles to pick up pastries, I’d spent most of my day on the phone, coaching Bel for her date. General conversation starters, topics Ren was already passionate about,what to dig into and what to avoid. The last time we’d spoken, she was raring to go but now she was staring back at me as though I’d just told her Hannibal Lecter was coming up for a glass of wine and a light snack.
I took a deep breath and held both of her hands in mine, giving her a gentle but encouraging squeeze. ‘All you have to do is remember the questions we talked about, like a script, remember? Everyone likes to talk about themselves.’
‘You don’t,’ she pointed out.
‘Everyone else likes to talk about themselves.’
‘Your sister doesn’t.’
‘Most people like to talk about themselves. We’ve been over it a million times: birds, books, grandpa, renovating houses, how much he loves LA. Get him started and it’ll be easy.’
‘Oh, I know!’ she exclaimed, squeezed my hands tightly. ‘You should stay! You can hang out and drink with us!’
‘Bel,’ I said as kindly as I could. ‘You sent this man an intensely romantic love letter. You told him he is the air you breathe and your reason for living. Don’t you think it would be a bit weird if you bring a friend on your first date?’
‘Remind me what else was in there?’ she whispered. ‘Did it say anything about his abs?’
I prised my hands free, wiggling the feeling back into my fingers. ‘I don’t think it referenced them specifically.’
She began pacing up and down the street, the silky fabric of her dress shimmering across her body as she moved, and my heart lurched. Imagine looking like Bel, being as lovely as she was, as kind as she was, and stillbelieving you weren’t good enough. What hope was there for the rest of us?
‘Please stay,’ she begged. ‘I’m gonna mess it up if you leave me on my own. I’ll say the wrong thing, I’ll do something stupid, I always do.’
As much as I wanted to fight it, there was something about Bel that tugged directly on my heartstrings. This wasn’t an act, she really was scared, and whether I started with good intentions or not, it was all because of me. It was my scheming that put us all here.
‘I’m only upstairs if you need me,’ I said. ‘Text me if you get desperate.’
‘You’ll be home?’ she asked with huge eyes. ‘I can call you?’
‘Yes,’ I promised, handing back her tiny phone. ‘And just so you know, you look beautiful.’
Her eyes filled with gratitude but she still didn’t look quite certain. ‘I don’t know, Pheebs, what if he hates me?’
Shaking my head, I forced out the words that were stuck in my throat.
‘Bel,’ I said. ‘He’s going to love you.’
Flat on my belly, I peeked through a gap in the fence at the edge of Suzanne’s terrace. Not so much spying as observing. As the matchmaker, I had a personal responsibility to make sure this went well. I was Cupid in a pair of cut-offs, only Machiavellian because I cared, and so far it was going terribly.
Ren looked ecstatic, Bel less so. I watched as she shifted her weight from foot to foot, one arm stick-straight at her side, the other crossed over her body and gripping the opposing elbow for dear life.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ Ren asked. He reached for the chilled bottle in the ice bucket and poured even before she gave her enthusiastic approval. ‘I hope you like it. I don’t really know that much about champagne but it’s supposed to be good.’
‘If it’s fizzy and wet, I’ll drink it,’ she replied, proving the statement to be true by emptying her glass in three chugs.
‘That dress is …’ He shook his head as though he didn’t have quite the right words. ‘You look beautiful.’
Slamming her glass down on the table, she gave him a thumbs up.
