Drama Queen by Chloe Rayban Page B

don’t know why you watch it,’ I said as she reached for the tissue box.
    â€˜Nor do I,’ she said, half-laughing and drying her eyes.
    â€˜I suppose it’s nice to think people can still fall in love when they’re old and everything.’
    â€˜They weren’t old.’
    â€˜Clint Eastwood was all wrinkly and had grey hair.’
    â€˜So? Grey hair doesn’t stop people being in love.’
    â€˜Doesn’t it?’
    â€˜Of course not. It’s the more important things that matter.’
    â€˜Like what?’
    â€˜All sorts of things. Liking the same people. Wanting to do the same things. Sharing the same interests …’
    â€˜What sort of interests?’
    â€˜Oh I don’t know … Films and music and books and things …’
    This got me thinking. One of Mum’s constant moans was that Dad never read a decent book. So, that Saturday, instead of our usual meeting in the park, I’d suggested to Dad that we met up at Bookfest – our local bookshop, the one with the coffee bar which Cedric had mixed up with Costa’s.
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    Bookfest was halfway up the high street. To get to it you had to go over the bridge that crossed the river. I decided to walk because I always loved to see the river – steel-grey in winter, all silver and glittery in summer, or like today, in spring, a sleek olive grey-green that slid beneath me as I paused midway across.
    It was the first really warm day of the year. The river was gleaming in the sunlight. In the distance bright sailing boats were darting to and fro. Along the riverside, couples were walking hand in hand. Families with kids in pushchairs were heading for the play area in the park. I paused to watch a pleasure boat as it set sail from the pier. Happy couples leaned on the rails as they embarked on their journey upstream to the botanical gardens …
    Which made me think of Clare and Cedric. Happy couple NOT. What they needed was some quality time alone together. That last time I’d tried to set them up had been such a disaster.
    I watched the boat getting smaller and smaller as it steamed away. Which gave me an idea. Anyone on board would be trapped for an hour and a half with no way of escape. Water lapping by. There’snothing like water to bring on romance.
    I made my way down the ramp to the timetable. There was another trip upstream at 4 p.m. Perfect! I texted Clare first.
    dear wobble
love beckons
4pm boat upstream to Kew
be there or be dead
love j
    Then I texted Cedric.
    fancy a magical mystery tour?
4pm boat upstream to kew!
j
    Then I made my way on up to the high street, happily imagining them meeting. Each surprised to see the other. They’d be looking out for me, of course, but when I didn’t turn up it would be too late. The boat would be pulling out from the jetty and they’d both say they were sorry I’d missed it, but secretly they’d be glad to be on their own.
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    As usual, Dad was late, so I started browsing through the ‘Three for Two’ offers. These were mainly novels – always an uphill job to get him to read one of those. I lingered over a few war books and then headed for the non-fiction shelves.
    Here was a netherworld of gardening books and DIY manuals, hardly qualifying for what Mum would call a ‘good read’. I went back to the novels and searched through the titles. And then I spotted what seemed to be the perfect book.
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
. The Zen bit would appeal to Mum and it sounded as if it might be a handy book to help Dad with the new bike.
    I paid for the book and went and sat at one of the coffee tables waiting for Dad. In a corner of the children’s section a lady was sitting reading to a semicircle of noisy toddlers. The toddlers weren’t listening and I could see her getting hot and bothered behind her reading glasses as she tried unsuccessfully to win their attention without