If We're Not Married by Thirty

  Praise for

  Anna Bell

  ‘The perfect laugh-out-loud love story’

  LOUISE PENTLAND

  ‘Had me smiling from start to finish. It was a joy to read; smart, witty and completely fresh’

  CATHY BRAMLEY

  ‘Romantic and refreshing’

  MHAIRI MCFARLANE

  ‘Funny, romantic and uplifting’

  CRESSIDA MCLAUGHLIN, AUTHOR OF THE CANAL BOAT CAFE

  ‘Funny, relatable and fabulously written’

  DAILY EXPRESS

  ‘A hilarious new rom-com from the very talented Anna Bell’

  LANCASHIRE EVENING POST

  ‘A fun, bouncy, brilliant tale’

  HEAT MAGAZINE

  ‘Perfect for fans of Sophie Kinsella’

  TAKE A BREAK

  ‘Funny, relatable and fabulously written, it’s even inspired us to come up with a bucket list of our own’

  NEW! MAGAZINE

  ‘This is a must read over Christmas and New Year, you will love it’

  THIRTEEN:FOURTEEN MAGAZINE

  ‘Another hilarious romp that cements Anna Bell’s status as a must read author in this genre’

  HEAT MAGAZINE

  ‘Funny . . . laugh out loud’

  PRIMA MAGAZINE

  ‘An irresistibly warm and engaging novel’

  REVIEWEDTHEBOOK.CO.UK

  ‘This was one fab book!’

  ANNIE’S BOOK CORNER BLOG

  ‘Full of the charm, wit and cultural references I’ve come to love in her stories . . . I’m already looking forward to the next novel by Anna Bell’

  CHICK LIT CENTRAL BLOG

  ‘A heart-warming, fun, lovely romantic comedy that will leave you with a smile on your face; absolutely loved it!’

  SPOONFULOFHAPPYENDINGS.BLOGSPOT.CO.UK

  ‘This book is so good!’

  CHICKLITPLUS.COM

  ‘A brilliant story and one author I will definitely be reading more of’

  ECHOES IN AN EMPTY ROOM

  ‘Warm, descriptive, vivid, bubbly . . . This book really had it all’

  ON MY BOOKSHELF

  ‘Unputdownable. I loved reading every page of this funny romance story’

  I READ NOVELS

  ‘Another cracker from the lovely Anna Bell – highly recommended!

  ON MY BOOKSHELF

  ‘A fresh and fun read’

  ALBA IN BOOKLAND

  ‘Modern, fresh, charming, warm and very exciting . . . a wonderful romantic comedy, full of unique moments and scenes’

  SIMONA’S CORNER OF DREAMS

  ‘A wonderful and relevant book’

  KATIE’S BOOK CAVE

  ‘I definitely recommend this book!’

  CHAPTER AND CAKE

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  What Happened Next

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Letter from Author

  Copyright

  To Jane and Ollie.

  Thanks for the inspiration – of course Kerry and Jim

  are nothing like you . . . except maybe the rhubarb

  Prologue

  Saturday, 6 June 2009

  The sounds of ‘Agadoo’ drift round the corner of the marquee and I let out an involuntary groan. When I get married, I’m going to dictate the set list to the DJ. Or maybe I won’t even have a DJ. Maybe I’ll elope. Yes, that’s a better idea. Then I won’t have to put anyone through the pain of wearing a ridiculous bridesmaid dress or having their hair sprayed with so much hairspray that they fear it may never move on its own again.

  I wrestle with the top of my dress that was tight at the start, before the canapés, three-course meal and countless drinks I’ve downed since the wedding began. Yes, I’d definitely not put anyone else through this pain.

  ‘Hey, I wondered where you’d got to. You’re missing our mothers pushing imaginary pineapples and shaking trees,’ says Danny.

  I cautiously look around to check that he’s alone, and breathe a sigh of relief when I realise he is.

  ‘Oh my God. They’re so embarrassing. I told Kerry that she shouldn’t do Pimm’s as the welcome drink.’

  ‘Doesn’t she remember what happened at my mum’s fiftieth?’

  ‘I know,’ I say incredulously. ‘That’s what I said. But she and Jim had snuck off somewhere early on and missed our mothers getting up to mischief.’

  My sister thought I was exaggerating when I told her Mum was dancing on tables at her best friend’s birthday party. Let’s hope the tables in the marquee are more sturdy than the ones at Hazel’s house. I’ve never seen plastic buckle like that before.

  ‘Are you coming back in? I bet it’ll be “the Macarena” next. Or maybe “Oops Upside Your Head”.’

  I shudder at the thought.

  ‘Come on,’ I say, holding my hand out for him to pull me up. ‘I’m desperate for a drink. There’s a pub next door. Do you fancy coming for a quick pint?’

  ‘I’m pretty sure there’s alcohol in the marquee. Besides, it’s your sister’s wedding and you’re a bridesmaid.’

  ‘And I’ve fulfilled all my bridesmaid duties. I kept her sober until after the ceremony. I’ve ensured that she has a change of clothes and a toothbrush in her hotel room and I’ve held her dress up inside the toilet cubicle at least twice so she could pee. I think I’ve earned a cheeky pint before she needs the loo again.’

  Reluctantly, he takes my hand and yanks me up.

  ‘We’ll come back soon. Just a quick drink,’ I say winking.

  We walk across the rock-hard grass towards the fence. It takes me a few strides to realise that I still have hold of Danny’s hand. I blush a little as I let go and hope he won’t see my glowing cheeks by the light of the moon.

  ‘Lydia, where are we going?’

  ‘Here, there’s a hole.’

  I push at one of the wooden posts of the fence and it swings open.

  Danny gives me a look.

  ‘Jim plays cricket here and Kerry and I come to watch, but it goes on for so long that at some point we usually sneak off for a drink. Only,’ I say, getting stuck in the gap, ‘I hadn’t quite factored this dress into the equation.’

  It might not be as big as Kerry’s wedding dress, but it’s poufy enough to get me stuck between the fence panels.

  Danny very helpfully gives me a little shove, and I find myself in a tiny courtyard at the back of the pub. I’m met with glares from those sitting around the one wooden table that makes up the tiny beer garden.

  Danny flies through the fence after me, almost knocking me over.

  ‘Oh, sorry,’ he says, brushing himself down.

  ‘Come on,’ I say
, dragging him in the back door.

  The inside of the pub is lit up like Blackpool Illuminations, or at least that’s what it feels like. My eyes have been used to the moonlit sky and the pub’s neon fairy lights around the bar and flashing fruit machines are practically blinding me.

  I try to ignore the watchful eyes of the locals who are giving me funny looks and I can’t work out if it’s because of my dusty-pink bridesmaid dress or the tiara in my hair. Whatever it is, I don’t care. I order a pint of Foster’s. Thankfully there are no older female relatives to tut and call me unladylike.

  ‘Let’s go round the corner,’ I say, sipping as I walk. We find ourselves on an old sofa at the back of the bar area. We’re far away from the stares of the locals and noise of the fruit machines. I sit down and, for the first time today, I let myself relax. Who knew going to your sister’s wedding could be so exhausting? Of course it’s not just been today; the run-up’s been going on for months. I’m lucky I’ve been away at uni and missed most of it.

  ‘This is better,’ says Danny. ‘I mean, not saying Kerry’s wedding isn’t fun or anything, but I’m more of a pub man.’

  ‘Me too. I was thinking earlier that I’d hate a big wedding like that.’

  ‘Really? I thought you’d love it. Aren’t you the one who wants to become some big party planner?’

  ‘Yes, but I want to be behind the scenes. I wouldn’t want to be centre of all that attention. Have you seen how many times Kerry’s had to pose for photos? What? Why are you looking at me like that?’ I say, as Danny’s got this weird eye thing going on.

  ‘Nothing, it just surprises me, that’s all.’

  I like the fact that after all these years of knowing him I can still surprise him.

  ‘So, you’re holding up well despite the amount of booze you’ve consumed,’ I say, changing the subject.

  ‘Am I ever going to live my mum’s party down?’

  ‘No,’ I say, laughing at the memory of him being a pathetic but sweet drunk. Danny is always so confident and self-assured, so it was nice to see him less than perfect for once. ‘You were so funny rambling away.’

  ‘I just wish you’d tell me what I was rambling about.’

  ‘And what, ruin all my fun?’ I say, sinking into the couch. To be honest, Danny was pretty incoherent that night. But I’m not going to let him know that.

  ‘Bloody Pimm’s. I had the worst hangover the next day.’

  ‘Probably like the one I’m going to have tomorrow.’

  ‘So was I talking on one particular topic or . . .?’

  ‘Stop fishing, Whittaker. I’m never going to tell.’

  He goes a bit pale and I wonder what he has to hide.

  ‘So,’ says Danny finally giving up. ‘Are you going to tell me why you’re hiding from the wedding?’

  I try not to laugh at the foam moustache on his upper lip.

  ‘I’m not hiding. I was getting some air, and now I’m getting a pint.’

  ‘Uh-huh, both of which you could have done at the wedding. I was looking for you for ages.’

  ‘It’s been a frantic few days; I just wanted to be by myself. And the pint, well, I got fed up with all the tutting from my aunts.’

  ‘Hmm,’ he says, raising an eyebrow. He knows I’m lying.

  I hate the fact that he knows me so well. Mine and Danny’s friendship is a by-product of our mothers being best friends and us spending a lot of time together when we were growing up. We’ve both been away at university so we haven’t seen a lot of each other over the last few years, but he still knows when I’m keeping something back.

  ‘What’s the real reason? Is it the wedding? Aren’t you happy for Kerry? I thought that you got on well with Jim.’

  ‘I do. Jim’s great and I’m so happy for them – honestly, I am – it’s just . . .’ I say, sounding so insincere. I don’t mean to. I’m genuinely happy for them and I’m not even the tiniest bit jealous of my sister as she truly deserves every happiness.

  ‘It’s just what?’ asks Danny, when I don’t reply.

  ‘I guess I’m sad because I’m nowhere near that, you know?’

  ‘What? Nowhere near marriage? We’re only twenty-one.’

  ‘I’m actually still only twenty. I’ve got another two months until my 21st,’ I say, thinking that makes me sound even more pathetic. ‘I definitely don’t want to get married yet; I know I’m way too young. I just worry that it’s never going to happen.’

  ‘Lydia, you’re being ridiculous. Of course you’re going to get married.’

  ‘But it’s not only the marriage thing; it’s the whole love thing too. I mean, I’ve never even been in love. Look at Kerry and Jim. They met at sixth form and have already been together for a decade. Then there’re my uni friends. All of them have had their first love already. And, OK, some of them might have been with total knob heads, but at least they’ve had that whole giddy-in-your-belly-butterflies thing going on. I’ve never had that. I just want to know what it’s like.’

  ‘What? That rumbly feeling in your belly? There’s this Indian round the corner from my old flat that I’m pretty sure would leave you feeling the same way.’

  I pull a very attractive face to tell him how much I don’t appreciate the sarcasm. ‘I’m being serious,’ I say. ‘I want to know what it’s like to have someone who loves me. Someone who would do anything for me.’ I pick up my pint and start drinking until I realise I’m in danger of downing it. ‘I mean, have you ever been in love?’ I ask.

  Danny looks at me as if he’s shocked I’ve asked him such a personal question. Of course he is. In all the years that I’ve known him I’ve never talked to him about stuff like this, despite us being so close. Our friendship might have been forced upon us, but being roughly the same age, we always stuck together. From the times when our older siblings were throwing rotten apples at us from their tree house, to the time when we saw in the millennium together, huddled in his bedroom terrified of the computer downstairs that we thought was about to go nuts with the millennium bug. We might talk – or, more accurately, argue – about politics and other things that we don’t really understand, but we never talk about love or sex or feelings, aka personal stuff.

  The look in his eyes, however, says it all. Of course he’s been in love. Everyone at our age has; everyone except me.

  Fran? Camilla? Jane? I wonder which of his many girlfriends he’d fallen for.

  ‘You see, I’ve been missing out. Well, obviously I haven’t been missing out on everything,’ I say, in a rush. I don’t want him thinking that I’m saving myself for ‘the one’. ‘I have had a very good time at uni, if you know what I mean.’

  Danny’s giving me a look as if to tell me to stop talking. He clearly knows what I mean.

  My cheeks are actually burning and I can only imagine how red they must have gone.

  ‘I don’t even know why you’re worrying about this,’ he says. ‘Of course you’re going to find someone.’

  ‘But what if I don’t?’ I look down at my pint only to realise I’ve finished it.

  ‘You will.’

  ‘But what if I don’t?’ I whine again. ‘I’ll be like Bridget Jones at the beginning of the film where she’s singing “All By Myself” and I’ll be meaning every single word.’

  ‘I haven’t seen it, but I’m guessing by the end she’s not still single.’

  ‘Well, no, but that’s so not the point,’ I say, pouting. ‘The point is, I could be Bridget Jones. Except I won’t be shagging Hugh Grant and I won’t end up with Colin Firth. I’ll be a spinster forever. Not in love and unloved.’

  Danny rolls his eyes at me. ‘Weren’t you the one who was saying earlier that you didn’t want to get married?’

  ‘I don’t want a big wedding, but I still want to get married. I guess I just want to know that I’m going to have a husband at some point in the future.’

  Danny sighs. ‘Look, if it’ll stop you crying into your drink, why don’t we do one of th
ose pact things? You know, if we’re still single at thirty we get married.’

  ‘So you think I’m still going to be single at thirty?’

  ‘No,’ says Danny. His messy eyebrows lodging into the bridge of his nose as he scrunches up his face. ‘I meant, if you do happen to be single still, and I am too, then we give it a go.’

  ‘When you’re thirty or when I’m thirty? You’re eight months older than me.’

  ‘You, then.’

  ‘As long as you’re not married already.’

  ‘As long as I’m not married already,’ he says slowly, as if it needs spelling out for me.

  ‘Oh great, so my only chance is to hope that you’re as much of a loser in love as me?’

  Danny shakes his head and I wonder if he’s regretting even mentioning it.

  ‘Come on, you’re like “Mr Lover Lover”,’ I say in my best Shaggy impression. ‘You’ve always got some girl on the go. There’s no way you’re going to be single. I’m doomed. I’m never going to get married. I’m never going to be kissed in that swoony way. I’ll never know what those rumbly feelings in my belly feel like. I’ll—’

  WTF? Danny is kissing me. Like, properly kissing me.

  Danny who I have known forever. Danny who’s seen me through every stage of my life – nappies, braces, acne outbreaks. Danny who’s giving me butterflies. Danny who’s actually an amazing kisser.

  When eventually he pulls away, I’m left leaning towards him, my lips still puckered, confused by what just happened.

  I stare at him as if I’m seeing him for the first time. I’ve had a crush on Danny forever, but I’ve never even thought of acting on it. I always thought that he’d never be interested in me. He’s so smart and funny and sexy, and, oh boy, am I now in trouble.

  I’m still too shocked to say anything and I see Danny’s face fall as he thinks I didn’t like it.

  ‘Hey, no,’ I splutter. ‘That was – where the hell did that come from? It was . . . It was . . .’

  My mind is racing through all the possible scenarios. Was it a one off? Will he do it again? Would it be that mind-blowing if we had sex? Are we going to start dating? Is the pact still on?

  ‘It was amazing,’ I say finally.

  He laughs and he takes my hand in his.

  ‘Is that something you want to do again?’ I ask, dipping my toe in the water.