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‘Spoiled,’ she said quietly.

‘Hey,’ said an American voice soothingly.

‘But I have,’ she shrugged, as if it was a fait accompli. ‘I’ve spoiled his evening, your evening, their evening. And my own.’

‘Horse shit!’ George protested. ‘And bullshit!’

‘But the Gathering,’ Finty stressed, ‘it’s sacred. I turned it down for a man with a penchant for peanuts and the ability to make my nose itch.’

‘Well, hon,’ George said after a thoughtful slurp at his glass, ‘I guess you won’t be doing that again.’

‘A Man Called George!’ Sally proclaimed to the concierge, giving the counter an authoritative tap. ‘Please.’

The concierge bestowed upon her a look of great distaste, followed by a withering glance at Polly and Chloë who were sniggering behind the faux fig tree in the foyer.

‘George Who?’

‘He’s expecting us,’ said Sally, refusing to drop eye contact.

‘He’s American,’ Chloë added helpfully.

‘And he’s wearing plaid,’ Polly announced as some kind of open-sesame password.

‘Hi, I’m George,’ says George, ‘and she’s in there.’

‘Hullo, George,’ Sally says, eyes agoggle at his unexpectedly advanced years.

‘Hullo, George,’ says Chloë, eyes agoggle at the extent of his plaid-clad attire.

‘Hullo, George,’ says Polly, eyes agoggle at the opulence of his suite.

‘Hi, ladies,’ says George, ‘she’s in there. She’s expecting you.’

‘Finty!’ the girls cry with love and sympathy, rushing to embrace their friend.

‘Finty!’ they marvel, looking around and spying two bottles of unopened champagne on ice and platters boasting crustless sandwiches and miniature pastries.

‘Girls’ Night In,’ Finty says, very matter-of-fact. ‘George says we should gather here.’

They all look at George. He reminds Sally of her late grandfather. Polly thinks he must be a fairy godfather and then she thinks she must have had one joint too many. Chloë wonders fleetingly what on earth they are doing here in the sumptuous suite of a kindly stranger at gone 10 p.m. Finty wonders where on earth to start.

‘It all began when my nose started to itch,’ she tells Sally, Chloë and Polly who are gathered about her, wide-eyed and jaws dropped as if teacher is about to tell a story.

‘Champagne?’ George suggests, dimming the lights, opening a bottle and pouring four glasses.

‘Aren’t you joining us?’ Sally asks.

George looks rather taken aback, and clasps his hand to his heart for emphasis. ‘God no! It’s a Gathering. Out of bounds. Girls only. Anyway, I have business to attend to.’

And he leaves. He leaves them in one of the rooms of his suite, furnished with champagne and sandwiches. And pastries. And warmth. He leaves the girls, who are now giggling, wrapped around each other on a capacious settee. He has work to do.

The bar is still full and Brett is exactly where George last saw him and where Finty left him over an hour ago. Not that he seems to have realized. His winks at the waitress have provided fast-track service for his gin and tonic to have been frequently replenished. He’s thought only fleetingly of Finty because, in the three months they’ve been together, he’s only ever thought fleetingly of Finty anyway.

‘Peanut?’ George asks.

‘Why not,’ Brett responds.

‘Some advice?’ George asks.

‘Why not,’ Brett responds.

‘Don’t date women with itchy noses,’ George says, with a slap to Brett’s shoulder blades, ‘they’re not your type.’

Jenny Colgan

Jenny Colgan is the author of numerous bestselling novels – Little Beach Street Bakery and the Top 5 bestseller, Welcome to Rosie Hopkins' Sweetshop of Dreams, which won the RNA Romantic Comedy Novel Award 2013. Meet Me at the Cupcake Café was also a Sunday Times Top 10 bestseller, and won the Melissa Nathan Award for Comedy Romance 2012.

Dougie, Spoons and the Aquarium Solarium

Jenny Colgan

Doug’s toes popped into life like little exclamation marks hanging over the end of the bed, and he rubbed his sticky eyes and tried not to catch the gunk in his stubble. He let out a groan as last night crept back into his head. How had it ended again? Not well. He spooled it through his mind. OK. He met a pretty girl in a nightclub, they’d danced, grinning foolishly at each other because it was too loud to talk, they’d come back here, they’d drunk whisky, they’d skirted the whole snogging issue by talking drivel about his record collection for hours, then he’d finally managed to snog her. That much he was sure of. More than snogged her? He turned his head, and his face crinkled at an opened condom packet. Huh. He had definitely more than snogged her. So why the sense of utter foreboding?

She – Chloë, that was her name – was a dental assistant, which sounded revolting to him, but he’d liked her, definitely liked her – absolutely – wasn’t sweetly asleep and facing him on the pillow … Just in case he’d gone blind, he stuck out his hand and patted all around the bed and under the mattress. Nope. She was a thin girl, but not Flat Stanley.

Tentatively he sat up and stared round his twelve-by-twelve room. The cupboard was a possibility, but an unlikely one. It struck him what was wrong. She was gone, but her clothes were strewn all over the floor. Therefore, unless she was flapping along a mile away in an enormously long shirt and clown shoes, it meant that, well, it had happened again …

‘CHLOË?’ he shouted, hoping vainly that he might be able to do this without having to get out of bed and touch the icy floor. This didn’t feel like summer at all, as per bloody Doncaster usual.

‘CHLOË?’ There was no response. Sighing, he pulled the duvet round himself and landed heavily on the floor, then performed a speedy duvet-to-dressing-gown manoeuvre which didn’t involve exposing his entire naked body to the elements at any one time. He opened the door, but couldn’t see her on the landing.

Sighing again, he picked up her bra and used it as a glove puppet.

‘CHLOË! ’E ’ees ’olding me ’ostage! Save me! Save me!’

‘I’m out here, you twat.’ The voice sounded hostile.

Doug went out to the landing, but it still seemed empty.

‘Ah – good one.’

‘Up here.’

Chloë, entirely nude, was crouched trembling on top of the old wardrobe that stood in the hall to contain shit he hadn’t got round to throwing out yet. Doug stared at her.

‘Hello again. Ehm, is this a sexual thing, or are you just a really fanatical duster?’

‘Is it gone?’ growled Chloë.

‘Would you like some breakfast? I’ll make you break-fast-in-wardrobe if you like.’

‘IS IT GONE?’

‘Not exactly,’ said Doug, talking Fluffy out of his dressing-gown pocket.

Chloë screamed her head off.

‘You know,’ said Doug patiently, ‘he’s only a very baby python.’

Chloë continued to scream. Doug considered the situation.

‘I don’t suppose there’s any point asking you for your phone number, is there?’

‘Eek! Eek! Eek!’

Doug left the house for work eating a slice of toast and giving bits to Fluffy.

‘Why can’t we meet a nice girl, eh, Fluff? I mean, we’re nice guys, aren’t we?’

He turned into the road.

‘Hmm. I hope she doesn’t want to use the bathroom. I forgot to mention we had your dad staying for the weekend.’

From inside the house came the sound of glass breaking.

‘Eek! Eek! Eek!’

Doug and his fat friend Spoons had set up the Solarium Aquarium with the money Spoons got when his dad was hiding it from his dodgy road-haulage business. The Solarium had been Spoons’ idea: ‘People can come in, get all their reptile needs and a suntan at the same time – and it rhymes! Brilliant, eh?’

Doug took care of the reptile end, and didn’t quite share Spoons’ vision. He personally wouldn’t mind lying down completely naked and defenceless amidst lots of writhing dangerous things, but lots of people, apparently, did. The solarium wasn’t going too well at all, although it did mean Spoons got to be bright orange at all times. This didn’t help his pulling tactics though, as being fat, snaky and bright orange isn’t actually that much more attractive than, say, just being fat and snaky. Doug, being tallish, and ruggedish, was a bit of a looker for a herpetologist, and supplied much of Spoons’ fantasy requirements.

‘Tops?’ asked Spoons avidly.

‘Yes,’ said Doug.

‘Fingers?’

‘Yup.’

‘You did it?’

‘Yes, yes, yes.’

‘And you’re miserable?’

‘Spoons, I’m a sensitive guy, OK? Maybe I’m just looking for that little bit more.’

‘What, like up the bum?’

‘I just don’t understand it. Every time I meet a nice girl she goes screaming in the opposite direction.’

‘Yeh, that happens to me too.’

‘After she’s met Fluffy. But I’m just … I just need to meet a girl who shares my interests, you know what I mean.’

‘If I met a girl who shared my interests,’ reflected Spoons gloomily, ‘we’d just wank all the time. I’d never see her.’

Suddenly, outside the shop, loud yells were heard and there came the sound of a car crashing. The shop bell tinkled. Spoons and Doug looked at each other and raised their eyebrows.

Into the shop strode a dramatically beautiful woman, all shiny black hair and slashed red lipstick. She was wearing a long, expensive and unnecessarily fiddly coat which looked designer. However, none of these things screamed attention to themselves quite as much as the eight-foot boa constrictor draped round her neck like a – ahem – boa.

‘What a beauty!’ said Doug and Spoons both at once.

‘Thank you,’ said the woman, flushing.

‘We meant the boa,’ said Spoons.

‘I know,’ said the woman.

Spoons nudged Douglas unnecessarily hard.

‘Get off with her!’ he whispered loudly.

‘Can I help you, madam?’ said Doug, gulping.

‘It’s Jumbo,’ she said. ‘We’re new in town. I’ve come to buy him everything he needs – no expense spared. Also, do you know of anywhere I could get a fake sun-tan around here?’

Doug and Spoons’ eyes grew as round as a cross-section of the rare Australian ring snake.

Her name was Maia, and she had been brought up in Indonesia. She took to the Fluffster immediately, coiling him round her little fingers like a rope trick. The Fluffster, however, didn’t take to Jumbo AT ALL and scuttled back to the safety of Doug’s inner pocket after realizing he was – at this age at least – being pretty comprehensively out-snaked.

Maia was a primary school teacher, but had had to leave her last school after an incident she didn’t seem to want to talk about too much; although now, six to eight weeks on, there were still definite signs of distension in Jumbo’s belly.

Doug was in love.

‘Would you, ahem …’

Maia had wandered out of the solarium covered only in a very slinky towel and Jumbo, which reminded Doug all too pleasantly of Nastassja Kinski. Spoons was gulping and quietly trying to stop hyperventilating in the background.

‘Yes?’ she purred.

Doug sighed. Asking girls out wasn’t normally one of his problems. It was usually about the six-hour mark that his troubles started … but this one had him floored.

‘I mean, if you’re new in town …’

It occurred to him for a second that Doncaster probably didn’t have a great deal to offer somebody this exotic. Maia, however, smiled widely.

‘Oh, could you show me around? Do you know any good chip shops?’

Behind him, Spoons made a high-pitched whining sound.

Doug wandered up on time to Harry Ramsden’s. Jumbo appeared to have a long piece of leather string coming out of his mouth attached to another woman’s hand. She looked a bit shellshocked, and Maia appeared to be giving her two hundred pounds.

‘Just two,’ she said to the shocked waiter as they swept into the restaurant. ‘Jumbo’s already eaten.’

Maia launched ahead, just as Doug noticed Chloë getting up to leave with a clutch of squealing girlfriends. She raised her eyebrows at him.

‘Playing with the big boys now, I see.’

He stopped.

‘Look, Chloë, I’m sorry about the other night …’

‘Oh, don’t worry about it at all. I’m clearly just not slimy enough for you.’

‘Snakes aren’t slime – Oh, forget it. And I am sorry.’ He’d forgotten how pretty she was. She looked like a dancer, even just pulling her coat on.

‘Well, if I ever start up a tarantula collection, I’ll ring you.’

‘Douglas! Our table’s ready!’

Chloë smiled and walked out of the restaurant, giving him an extremely wide berth.

‘Spoons, please, just stop panting like a dog. You’re steaming up the cases.’

‘I just … Oh, please tell me. Please.’

‘There’s nothing to tell. We talked a lot about snakes and the shop. Entirely, in fact, about snakes and the shop. She’s thinking about opening up a branch in Melton Mowbray.’

‘That’s brilliant! Global entrepreneurs, definitely. Er … were you feeling her up whilst you were doing it?’

‘No. To be honest, I wouldn’t have felt entirely secure vis-à-vis Jumbo and my right hand.’

‘What – you mean you didn’t score?’

‘Nope.’

Spoons slumped.

‘Fuck! Dougie, I could have taken her out and managed that.’

‘I’m just … I mean, she’s everything I’ve ever wanted – she’s bright, she’s beautiful, she loves members of the reptile family …’

‘She tans …’

‘She tans …’

‘And the problem is, exactly?’

The bell tinkled. Maia stalked in looking like a Bond girl in a tight red leather jacket, Jumbo practically caressing her left breast. She looked breathtaking.

‘Darling, which football team do you support?’

‘Ehm, Newcastle. Why?’

‘I thought so …’ Maia drew a team strip and two tickets out of her bag. ‘And here – I bought an extra sock and cut the foot off so that Fluffy can wear a strip too.’

Doug reached out his hand and held Spoons up before he fainted.

‘Where’s the office? I’ll go and put it there for you, and you can try it on when you’re not scooping out gecko poo.’

‘Ehm, uhm, it’s through the back …’

She sashayed off and vanished.

‘If I were you I’d take one of those little garter snakes over there and use it as a WEDDING RING,’ predicted Spoons.

‘I would too,’ said Mr Nebbington, who came in every day to stare at the animals in a vaguely disconcerting way for hours on end.

Fluffy popped out of Doug’s pocket. He was obviously just looking around – but it looked weirdly like he was shaking his head, that was all.

‘What’s she doing in the office?’ asked Spoons, fifteen minutes later. ‘Maybe she stripped naked and is rolling herself in butter and Smarties,’ he added thoughtfully.

‘Hmm,’ said Doug, and went through to have a look. Maia and Jumbo were hunched over what looked like a huge pile of files. He cleared his throat, and she straightened up guiltily.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Ehm … actually, I was looking for a catalogue. I, ehm, want to buy Jumbo a little cowboy hat.’

‘Are you sure that’s wise?’

She shrugged. ‘Well, he ate the beret.’

Doug looked back at the papers. ‘I’m not sure …’

‘No, definitely not – Ooh, look! My shoelace is untied!’

Before Doug had a moment to think, she stretched fully over from the waist, bending away from him. Her skirt hitched up and up …

Doug shook his head. His life didn’t usually feel much like a porn film. He had, in fact, not quite believed that woman actually ever behaved like this. But the fact was, unless she was wearing a very bizarrely patterned pair of knickers, Maia didn’t have any pants on. He wondered briefly if she’d possibly just forgotten, but his reliable trouser snake rather thought otherwise.

She turned her head up to him coquettishly from somewhere near the floor.

‘Will I get to see you tonight?’

‘Uh-huh-huh huh, ehm, rather!’

He watched a part of her beginning with ‘b’ sashay out the door. And, sadly, it wasn’t her brain.

The problem, thought Doug to himself as he put on his tie, was … could this maybe be perhaps just a little too perfect? It was like ordering a pizza and getting a five-course banquet delivered to your door, made up of all your favourite foods – say, in Doug’s case, five different types of pizza. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d done to deserve it.

‘So did you think up the solarium idea all by yourself?’

‘No, that was Spoons. He thought it would be good ‘cause it rhymed.’

‘Wow. How did he raise the internal necessary backing capital … er, I mean, you know, the cash to buy the shop and stuff?’

They were sitting in a Café Flo. The management had found them a whole private section, which seemed amazing. Well, he assumed it was the management. Certainly the room had got up and walked out en masse.

‘Wouldn’t you rather talk about something else?’ said Doug. ‘Like – I don’t know … what’s your favourite film?’

‘Anaconda,’ she said firmly. ‘Waiter, has your kitchen got rats?’

‘Of course not, madame!’

‘Shame. Anyway, back to Spoons …’

Still, she seemed keen enough to come back to his flat. And she was wearing a spray on dress, which on another woman might have looked a bit tarty, but on Maia looked – well, high-class expensive-hotel tarty.

Doug grinned at his trusty wardrobe as he made coffee. He didn’t think they’d be needing that tonight.

Sure enough, when he returned, Maia stood in his bedroom, completely naked, except for the omnipresent Jumbo. Doug nearly dropped the coffee. He wished Spoons were here – not joining in, just to see it for one second and then have to go home again. She was magnificent.

‘Do you know what really turns me on?’ she purred.

‘I would guess that would be snakes,’ said Doug.

‘No!’ She caught hold of his tie and pulled him slowly towards her. He felt unbelievably turned on, even with the knowledge that, if he so wished, Jumbo could bite off his head like a cocktail cherry.

‘Money.’

‘Money? I thought you were a primary school teacher.’

‘I want you to talk money to me, Dougie. It really turns me on.’

‘Ehm, God, I don’t know … florin?’

She pulled him closer and kissed him hard on the lips, till he thought the top of his head was going to explode.

‘Tell me … tell me how much money the shop makes.’

‘What? I don’t underst – Jesus!’

She was on her knees and had unbuttoned his trousers.

‘Tell me, Dougie …’

‘Oh God, don’t stop that.’

‘I will if you don’t –’

‘Three thousand a week give or take … oooh.’

‘Yes, yes …’

Doug had his eyes tightly shut now. His mind was being blown, amongst other things.

‘And how much of that do you pay in VAT?’

‘What!? No, no, please don’t stop.’

‘How much do you pay in VAT?’

‘Oh … my … God.’

‘How MUCH?’

‘Nothing. NOTHING! NOTHING! Ahhhhhh …’

‘A honey trap?’ said Spoons, eating a honey doughnut at the same time and seemingly unable to distinguish between the two.

‘I think you’re going to get nicked. I’m really sorry, Spoons.’

‘It’s my dad’s fault. Those bloody lorries.’ He sighed. ‘Undercover. Who would have thought the Inland Revenue would be so thorough?’

‘I know. She took us in, right enough.’

‘I mean, where the hell did they find a woman who loved snakes and suntans and chips and Newcastle United and who would fancy you as well? Must have taken them ages.’

‘No, Spoons, you see …’

The door swung open, tinging loudly. Maia and Jumbo stood there with four menacing-looking men in pinstriped suits with briefcases strapped to their wrists.

‘It’s all through the back,’ she announced. ‘Take it down.’

She faced the boys.

‘No hard feelings. It’s just business.’

They stared at her.

‘So, I mean … where did you get Jumbo?’ asked Doug.

‘His real name’s Mambo. He’s professionally undercover too. Oh and there’s …’

She nudged Jumbo/Mambo, and the snake lifted its huge flat head. There was a clicking, whirring noise.

‘… a miniature camera implanted in his head. Painless, I assure you. But extremely useful.’

Doug shook his head in disbelief.

‘Well, for what it’s worth, you really convinced us you loved that snake.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Just doing my job. Really, when I’m not working, they make me want to vomit, scream, run away and burst into tears.’

Spoons, who hadn’t been listening, nudged Doug hard.

‘Doug … does this mean you’re not going out with her any more?’

Doug clasped him on the shoulder.

‘Yes, Spoons. Yes, it does.’

‘Ehm … can I go out with her then?’

‘Spoons, she’s going to put you in prison.’

‘Yeh, but when I come out, maybe?’

‘Spoons, she’s not really who she says she is.’

‘I don’t care,’ said Spoons miserably.

‘We’ll talk about it,’ said Maia crisply. ‘Perhaps over forms lla-95c. See how co-operative we both can be.’

Spoons was beaming as she led him off into the unmarked vehicle.

‘Hello, snaky man.’ Chloë was walking down the street carrying two bags of shopping with her hair in little bunches and her summer sandals on. Doug felt his heart lurch.

‘Hello there. Ehm … you know, I’m not really involved in that line of work these days.’

‘Oh really?’ she said, putting the shopping bags down.

‘No, I kind of … gave it up. I think in future I’m going to stick to the more rectangular animals.’

She nodded. ‘What, like bears and stuff?’

‘Bears, maybe … anything with right-angles. Giraffes, stuff like that.’

‘Huh.’

They looked at each other for a bit.

‘So do you … ?’

‘Well, maybe …’

They both spoke at once, then smiled foolishly at each other.

‘Yeah, all right,’ said Chloë.

Later, walking away, Doug patted his pocket.

‘Don’t worry, Fluffster. I’m sure she’ll come round sooner or later …’