Week 9 - Nan's Dating Agency

Chapter 5 Approaching Thirty

It had now been forty-nine days since the day my bride failed to show and I was surviving. Pete was great and my parents seemed to take it in turns phoning to check I was still alive. Frequent offers of dinners also came from my parents and generally everything was alright. I decided to pull out of buying the house in Alrewas much to the annoyance of Mr. Williams who was in the middle of buying this flat. Becky hadn’t been in touch and I had no idea where she was, but I wasn’t going to go looking. If she wanted payment for the flat I would deal with that when it happened. The mortgage was in my name and the payments going from my account so at the moment I didn’t need to act on this.

In three weeks time it will be my thirtieth birthday and I was slightly depressed about this. Trying to think about where my life was going. Two months ago I was going to be married by the time I reached the big three O. Now I was single and my future was very undecided. Would I ever marry? Would I ever hear the patter of tiny feet? Would I ever be called Granddad? I wasn’t feeling sorry for myself just unsure about what I was supposed to do. Pete advised celebrating my birthday in a big way to show the world that Jonathan Sadler was back. That didn’t seem like a good idea. I mean a party full of couples and me and Pete. Perhaps I could send Becky an invite, but as she didn’t turn up to our wedding I doubt she would turn up to my party. In the last few days I had started to feel some resentment towards Becky. It wasn’t the jilting me that hurt it was the not saying exactly what was wrong. Was it something I had done? Or was something else going on in her life that I had not been involved in?

If your partner dies how long is it acceptable to grieve before going back out on the pull? This is how I was feeling. Part of me wanted to try and find a woman because I didn’t want to be completely single when I entered the fourth decade of my life. I did miss the flirting and the seducing even before Becky left. The thrill of the chase has always been the best part for me. Which is probably why I had always turned down offers of one night stands. To me, taking four months to completely seduce an attractive lady to a state where she wanted me more than anything else was much more satisfying than just meeting.

I had been summoned to my Nan’s Old People’s home and told to arrive at seven o’clock exactly. Nan had said that I could then see her for half an hour and be off by the time Coronation Street started. It wasn't really a convenient time to go as I wanted to see the end of the football on Sky, but it was Nan and she said it was important. The home was quite deep in the countryside and had hairy cows in the field behind the back. Nan had chosen well and it was quite an upmarket home. My Granddad had owned four houses so his death left my Nan surprisingly well off. She must have spent quite a large portion of this wealth during her Jessy years though, but still could afford to stay at this top of the range Old People’s Home. The staff all wore pink uniforms which looked quite good on some of the girls but this was perhaps a touch camp for the male nurses. It was quite a pleasant environment in the Lounge, though, because most of the household were quite compos-mentis and it wasn’t like the usual home. They tended to sit in small groups instead of being spread around the room. When I arrived Nan was holding court with three gentlemen and blatantly flirting with two of them. One of the carers, Jenny, asked me if she could have a word. The conversation started with Jenny saying she was sorry to hear about me being jilted, but she wouldn’t be able to go out with me next Tuesday because she went dancing with her boyfriend every Tuesday. Obviously Nan had been trying to set me up. At least she had good taste because Jenny was particularly nice with a smile that always caught my eyes. I tried to apologise for my Nan’s forwardness, but Jenny laughed and said she understood totally. Jenny had something she needed to discuss with me or my Dad the next time he came. She said it was a sensitive matter about Nan’s recent behaviour. I decided that I was ready to represent the family on this issue. Jenny explained, rather apologetically, that things could not go on as they are. I asked what my Nan had done now. She said that it was just that some of the other families had complained. This didn’t sound good and I don’t think Jenny, even with her warm smile, was finding this easy to say. Eventually we got to the point. Nan had been leading some late night strip poker sessions and old Mrs. Gidman had told her son how she was left braless after a session last Thursday. The thought of the ninety-five year old, teethless Mrs. Gidman topless was an image I needed to quickly lose from my mind, but try as I could it was still there as wrinkly as a tortoise’s neck.

Nan introduced me to Neville, Len and Clive. She said, “it’s like that film, Three men and an old lady”. For once Nan was dressed like a real Nan with a long skirt and a shawl around her shoulders. She had quite a lot of clothes on for this time of year. Perhaps she was planning another game of strip poker. Very suddenly Nan instructed the gentlemen to disperse. Len took the opportunity to give Nan a peck on the lips. It wasn’t a pleasant sight but I suppose you don’t get many chances of a snog when you get to that age. Clive was the least mobile of the three old men and even with his zimmer frame it took him several minutes to get back to the other side of the room. Nan was quite agitated and obviously had some news to tell me. If it was about the midnight geriatric games I already knew. There seemed to be something else on her mind and I started to have the worrying feeling that my lovelife was involved. Very quickly my worries were proved correct as it became apparent that my Nan was on operation ‘find Jonathan a woman’. Jenny had just been the start of it. The real plan soon became known. Nan introduced me to Mr. Singh or Ally as she had started to refer to him as. She pointed to an elderly man in the far left of the room who was wearing a very bright orange turban and had quite a bushy grey beard that I appeared to have in a hairnet. Mr. Singh gave us a little wave to acknowledge he had seen us. Nan started to wave back an even blew him a kiss. It was obvious that these two had been talking about me and the lack of romance in my life. “Good news”, Nan said quite sharply.

Why did I sense that this was not going to be good news for me? “I have found you a replacement wife”, was the dreaded words that were to follow. Soon things became painfully clear and my worse fears were all coming home. My Nan and Mr. Singh had setup an arranged marriage for me. Mr. Singh had an unmarried Grand-daughter who was supposed to marrying the son of a doctor until the doctor’s son was caught kerb crawling in Aldridge. I was being setup for an Arranged Marriage. Nan informed me that Mr. Singh’s grand-daughter, Hasmir, wasn’t a minger and was in fact pretty hot. She would be here soon and Nan informed me she was looking forward to meeting me. At least we were going to be allowed to meet prior to our wedding day.

“Nan I am not a Sikh and I am quite able to organise my own lovelife”, I shouted rather too loud given the number of people in the room.

“Well, you’ve made a crap job of it so far”, Nan snapped back. “Where is Becky again?”

I could tell that Nan was in one of those stubborn moods and I would just have to lump it for a bit. But Nan was right about one thing Hasmir certainly wasn’t ‘a minger’. She entered the room looking completely radiant and kissed her grandfather on the cheek. She looked beautiful and reminded me of the Princess on the Aladdin cartoon. Maybe it was worth a go after all. My Nan gave me a nudge to indicate that she thought Hasmir was, in her words, ‘a bit of alright’. Hasmir was dressed very European with jeans and quite a figure hugging white top in fact quite a trendy. Should I go over and introduce myself?
As I started to walk towards Hasmir and her Grandfather I felt myself being pulled back by a strange force. It was Nan’s stick which she had used like a fishing rod to hook around my jeans and prevent me from escaping.

“Slow down tiger, you don’t want to seem to keen”, Nan said unusually quiet for her.

“I was just going to be a gentlemen and introduce myself”, I protested.

“We don’t want you ruining things yet. Ally and me still haven’t agreed on the price.”, Nan informed me.

Any hope of having Hasmir as my birthday date faded fast when she started arguing with Mr. Singh. I couldn’t hear all she was saying but it seemed to roughly translate to, ”I wouldn’t be seen dead with that lanky git”. Oh well it was probably for the best.

Week 2 - A Text From The Bride

Heather came from Bakewell near Manchester, but she denied this made her a ‘Bakewell Tart’. We started to chat as mates, but the more I looked into her green eyes the more I began to think that perhaps I would like to get to know Heather better. Heather had a smile that was slightly naughty and by 1am that night I just wanted to kiss her. One month later and six ‘sort of dates’ I finally did kiss that lovely fellow student. There were earlier chances but our friendship was becoming more important every day so I was scared of making a fool of myself. It was Valentines Day 1988 when we finally admitted to each other that we were ‘boyfriend’ and ‘girlfriend’. This was probably my first serious relationship and I even took Heather home to meet my parents and my friends. Heather showed me the joys of Bakewell and we discussed the names that we would give our children. It seems strange looking back but the two of us never argued about anything. Heather was a bit of a Tom Boy and in some ways the relationship was more mates than lovers. Sex often was a bit of a giggle and perhaps lacked passion, but this was Heather and she had become my best friend and companion. We helped each other through our degrees and I think we were both completely faithful. Until I met Becky I thought this was the perfect relationship. We started getting Christmas cards to ‘Heather and Jonathan’ even though we lived over 50 miles apart. At the end of the course we had to decide what was going to happen next. We were both only twenty-three and not really ready to make big commitments so we couldn’t decide where we wanted to live. I wasn’t ready to finally leave the joys of Sutton Coldfield and Heather wanted to stay near her mum. We decided that it was time to put things on hold but stay as mates for the time being. It didn’t really work because we kept getting back together, but eventually we started to see less of each other and then Heather accepted a marketing position in Paris for a year and we drifted further apart. Heather was special and I had seriously tried to get Becky to allow me to invite Heather and her new boyfriend Jean Pierre to the wedding, but Becky had made it quite clear that no former shags should be allowed at the wedding. As this meant she couldn’t invite the smarmy Michael I happily agreed, although Heather said she was disappointed not to see her mate get hitched. Surely she would have shred a few tears at the sight of her ‘ex’ getting married. I certainly wouldn’t want to see her getting married to Jean Pierre, although Becky might like the idea of a weekend in Paris. Becky is the Manageress of a Travel Agency in Lichfield and is multi-lingual. She could happily hold a conversation with Jean Pierre in French and also speaks fluent Spanish.

For the past three months Becky has spent Wednesday evenings studying Vocational Italian. As a surprise for Becky at the wedding reception I have also been learning Italian via a CD supplied in the Sunday Times. It isn’t my normal read but they had sold out of both ‘The People’ and ‘The Mail on Sunday’ that particular Sunday morning. I intend saying part of my thank you speech in Italian. With my lack of linguistic ability this is ambitious and I hope that Becky will recognise it as Italian.


The radio-alarm clock that used to wake me up with Simon Mayo in my 6th form days often with his First Love slot was now showing 03:08 so the time until I get to see Becky in her wedding attire is now less than eight hours. Less than a normal working day. The recommended amount of sleep you should have each night. Although with my alarm set for quarter to eight I wouldn’t be getting my full quota tonight. Going through previous relationships had kept my mind off thinking about the things I need to do at the wedding. Check Pete has got the rings, put a pack of polo mints in my pocket to make my breath fresher, make sure everyone has a lift to the reception at Moor Hall Hotel in Sutton Coldfield. I could see the outline of my suit hanging on the door of the wardrobe opposite. At least Becky will like this as she was with me when I, or was it we, or was it Becky, chose it. To be honest I thought it was a bit too trendy for me, but Becky liked it straight away and said it would go perfectly with her dress. There was a definite hint of green to it and the lapel was quite narrow. Pete had been impressed when he first saw them although he had talked about us wearing claret and blue suits. All my previous suits had come from Burtons or Fosters so it was a first for me to go to Marks and Spencers, a shop I had always associated with my Nan and Sunday afternoon scotch pancakes that we ate watching the ‘Goldenshot’. Hope my Nan behaves herself at the wedding. At my sister Karen’s wedding she was trying to dance to Bad Manners’ ‘Can Can’ and ended up accidentally banging the vicar on his head with her stick. It could be worse this time because her mind isn’t quite as good as it was and she has started to get confused. At the Carol Service last Christmas she sang ‘O Little Town of Bethlehem’ superbly and very loudly – just a pity everybody else was singing ‘In the bleak mid-winter’. My Granddad died seven years ago and after grieving for a year my Nan decided that life was for living and went on a world cruise where she met another lady in her seventies called Jessie. The two of them then became a trouble-some twosome going to lots of Tea Dances in the hope of meeting men. My Dad found it very difficult to cope with and was appalled when my Nan asked if she could bring her latest boyfriend to Karen’s wedding. He was more taken aback to find he was black and twenty years younger than my Nan. In the end Nan agreed to bring Jessie instead and ended up with the two of them drinking more than everybody else put together. With my Nan’s blood pressure tablets this wasn’t advisable, but she is quite a large woman and can be scary especially when armed with her stick. Of course, the real side is a very caring lady who totally adores her four grandchildren who can do no wrong. Even when Karen left her husband Toby last year my Nan took Karen’s side and said that Toby didn’t do enough to satisfy her. She said he couldn’t even manage to give her a great-grandchild so he probably wasn’t any good in the bedroom department. This is the same lady who until she met Jessie wouldn’t have her telly tuned into Channel Four because it was too raunchy. Jessie died two years ago whilst the two of them were holidaying in Crete. She was eighty-three and doctor believed she died of exhaustion. My Nan was never quite the same since and her mind started to go soon afterwards. It’s sad but she decided to put herself into a home about six months ago and the first thing my Dad knew about it was when he received a change of address card from her. It really upset him, but my Nan knew that it was a decision he would never have made for her. I go to the home about once a week and generally love talking to my Nan. Yes, we often have the same conversation six times in an hour, but she still cares about things passionately. Only last week she was saying what she wanted to do with her stick to Gareth Southgate after he missed that penalty for England in the semi-final. She still watches her football but gets confused as to which players are still playing. She says that Nobby Stiles should have taken that penalty. Becky loves my Nan and often comes with me. All of her grandparents died before she was ten and this always upsets her. Nan told Becky she could adopt her as her Gran. Becky had taken Nan out last week to buy an outfit for the wedding and had to persuade her that a pale coloured trouser suit was probably better than the little black strapless dress she was looking at. Nan had spent an hour a few weeks ago repeatedly telling me that Becky was keen on me and that I should get her married as soon as possible before some hunky bloke might come along and showed her a good time. I am glad my Nan is going to be there on my big day.

My thoughts were distracted by the bleep of my mobile phone. I had only had it a month and still it took me unaware. Becky had decided that since we were living together we needed to be in touch so she had bought us each these mobile phones. I seem to spend all my time looking for it or walking around with a large bulge in my left-hand trouser pocket. As very few people had my number and very few of my friends have mobile phones it must be text message off my bride or the signal that my battery was going flat. I felt around on the floor where the jeans I took off last night were lying. Eventually I located the phone and the screen said ‘Message Received’. The thought of a message off Becky was exciting. Obviously she couldn’t sleep either because she was too excited. I tried to imagine her lying in our bed with her wedding dress hanging by the side of her. The image also included her sister Jenny lying beside her in the bed in a rather unflattering long nylon flowered nightie. This was an image I did not want to focus on. I am sure Jenny doesn’t think I am good enough for her baby sister. Jenny has a first class degree in History and doesn’t really consider a 2:1 in Business Studies to count as a proper degree. Jenny and her husband Gareth have six year old identical twin daughters called Beatrice and Lorna, but I can never tell which one is which. They are going to be Becky’s two small bridesmaids that will follow the beautiful Becky and plain Jenny up the aisle.

What does the message say then? I’d better check and then maybe I could get some sleep. It said the message was off ‘Future Wife’ I had recently changed her name on my phone from ‘Naughty Rebecca’ because Becky thought people might get the wrong idea if they saw it. I clicked to read the message. I noticed there was no kiss which was unusual for a Becky message. It read just ‘Are you asleep’. There wasn’t even a question mark. Of course I wasn’t asleep or how would I be reading this message. Even if I had woken up at 8am and read the message I still would not have been asleep. As it was a very special day I avoided my usual sarcasm and just replied back ‘No, are you xxxx’. It was now 03:42 and within seconds came another beep from my phone. Quickly I check the message and it shocked me. It read ‘Sorry I can’t go through with it x’. Well at least I had got a kiss this time but it wasn’t really the message I wanted at this time on my wedding day. Something seemed wrong, what had happened? How should I play this? Surprisingly for me I was very calm and texted Becky back, ‘Are you sure? x’. I just lay there trying to make sense of everything. The birds were starting to sing now but it felt like the world had suddenly stopped turning and I was about to be pushed off. The radio alarm clock clicked around to 03:48 and then the dreaded bleep came. It was like I felt when I opened the envelope with my A Level results in or when I rang the vets to see if my cat ‘Silvester’ had come through the operation and also how I felt when Gareth Southgate stepped up to take that penalty. The waiting was over the text said simply ,‘Yes’.

Next Week : The wedding day drama