Crazy Little Thing Called Love: The perfect laugh out loud romantic comedy you won’t be able to put down

‘So are you here as Mum’s spy to report back on the state of my sanity then?’ Leila asked.

‘No! Not at all! Not really. No. Well, maybe a bit. But mainly I wanted to see my little sister and offer my shoulder, should you need it. It’s ok to show your emotions you know Leila, you don’t need to pretend everything’s alright, when it’s not.’

Later that afternoon, when the sun had disappeared for the day, two empty champagne bottles were upended in the ice bucket and Tasha had reluctantly left, Leila thought about what her sister had said. She was known amongst her friends as the Bounce Back Queen, never letting anything get her down, being ridiculously cheerful in the face of adversity, but she absolutely never wanted to feel as stupid as she did leaving that hotel in Jaipur again. It was mid-afternoon on Christmas Day in England when she had skyped her parents from India. Her mum, dad, sister, brother, nephew and nieces all squashed their faces onto the small screen, colourful cracker hats adorning each one of them. She should have been there. She should have been working her way through her dad’s wine cellar with them, playing silly board games and listening to Radio Devon’s festive party mix. But instead she spent the day alone, huddled on a grimy corner of the airport praying for a standby ticket to get her home.

She had stayed awake for every minute of the thirty-hour journey from Freddie’s hotel room in India to her own bed in London, where she slept for almost two days straight. She didn’t cry. She didn’t even drink herself into oblivion with the free booze on board the flight. She just felt numb. And foolish. And she knew that she didn’t want a man to make her feel like that ever again.

Chapter 2 (#u38ab6198-a4c4-5919-b619-a386264b0504)

A few weeks later…

‘I reckon his photo was easily taken twenty years ago.’

‘No!’ Jayne cried. ‘Who would do that?’

‘What did he think?’ Amanda asked, blowing the froth off her cappuccino. ‘That you wouldn’t notice that he looked nothing like his advert?’

‘Profile,’ Shelley sniffed, looking affronted. ‘It’s not an advert, I’m not advertising for dates, like you would a car, it’s a profile. Anyway, thankfully he didn’t see me as I’d chosen a table behind a pillar – thanks to Leila’s suggestion – so I was able to leg it before having to spend an evening with him.’

Although this time it was her friend Shelley recounting this story of dating woe, it was a carbon copy of numerous blind date disasters Leila had suffered in her time. Brad Pitt morphing into Danny DeVito, Single Solvent Lawyer mutating into Married Bankrupt Loser.

‘Do you remember me telling you about that guy who, when the bill came, put down a coupon he’d cut out of the paper for his half of the meal?’ Leila added, to the shrieks of hilarity from her best friends. ‘And he didn’t even know why I didn’t want to see him again!’

Shelley picked up the baton, ‘What about those twins we met at that dating in the dark night, Leila, who said they were thirty-something bankers who lived in Canary Wharf and then at the end of the night we saw their mum picking them up?’

‘Are you sure you two don’t make some of these stories up to make me and Amanda a little bit envious of your exciting single lives?’ Jayne asked smiling. ‘I mean it puts my normal night of watching box sets in my pyjamas with Will a little in the shade.’

‘And me and Paul. The most excited we’ve been in months is when a new series of 24 was announced.’

‘Exciting single lives?’ Leila yelped. ‘Have you not been listening? Nothing about being a thirty-something, single woman in London is remotely exciting. Soul-destroying yes, exciting, no.’

‘Oh I don’t know, it has its moments.’ As Shelley was a statuesque redhead with measurements Marilyn would weep for, her experiences tended to sometimes be a tad different to Leila’s.

‘Honestly, you two don’t know how good you have it,’ Leila said, pointing the end of her croissant at Jayne and Amanda. What she wouldn’t give to spend evenings in her pyjamas with the love of her life rather than trundling down to a personality-less wine bar to speed date, or spending hours swiping left and right on Tinder. Trying to locate her future husband was more or less a full-time job, and she was sick of it.

‘You know what?’ Leila said, slamming her croissant down on the table. ‘I’m done. Finito. Caput. No more, I’m taking some time out from dating.’

‘You always say that. Every time you have a bad date, or your boyfriend turns out to be a dick, you say that that’s the last time,’ Amanda said. ‘You’re still in shock about careering halfway across the world for Freddie, you’ll be fine in a few weeks.’

To be fair, her friends had tried to warn her not to follow Freddie to India. ‘Men don’t like to be surprised,’ Amanda had said, ignorant of the irony in her statement seeing as she had proposed to Paul, and not the other way round. And Jayne didn’t understand either, with her perfect marriage to Will, Richmond’s very own Mr Darcy. It was only a matter of time before Shelley joined their cosy married club and Leila would have to fly the spinster flag alone.

***

As Leila walked the few streets back to her flat after their breakfast her phone vibrated in her bag. ‘Layles, flying back to London in a couple of weeks, let’s hook up and I can explain. Miss you XOXO’

Her stomach lurched and she didn’t know whether to hurl the phone into the nearest wall or hug it close to her body in relief. In the first few weeks after coming back from India she’d replayed the hotel room scene over and over in her mind constantly, even sometimes concluding that maybe, just maybe, she might have been too quick to flounce off in a huff. Perhaps the girl wasn’t completely naked, she could have been wearing one of those nude catsuits, so she was actually fully dressed, and possibly she worked at the hotel and had just delivered his room service and then was trying to fix his TV for him, which is why she was sat on his bed with the remote. Put like that, she occasionally felt a bit sorry for the short shrift she’d given him. She had even gone as far as to punch out a text to him that remained unsent, wondering if maybe she did owe him the opportunity to explain. But for him to suddenly get in touch now, a couple of weeks before his arrival in London, with his fancy bit thousands of miles away, just made her mad and not in the slightest bit sentimental.

‘No thanks.’ She pressed Send.

‘Don’t be like that babe, doesn’t suit you. See you in a couple of weeks XOXO’

Her fingers hovered over the keypad. If she was angry before, it was nothing compared to the white-hot rage that coursed through her veins now. How dare he? What planet was he on that he thought it was ok to treat her like that, then have complete radio silence for two months and then resurface like nothing had happened? She wouldn’t rise to it and send him a message back. Shaking, Leila slammed her front door behind her and threw her coat and keys down on the floor in the hallway. She was worth so much more than him. More than this ridiculous, fruitless man-search that made a little bit of her die inside with every unhappy ending. She’d had enough.

***

‘Celibacy?’ Thomas heaped two more roast potatoes onto her outstretched plate. ‘As in, become a nun?’

Leila rolled her eyes, ‘No, Dad, as in a man ban. I have taken a vow of chastity to sort my life out.’ She ignored her older brother Marcus’s immature guffawing next to her and passed the gravy boat on to her mum, Judy, who was sat on the other side, remaining uncharacte‌ristically silent.

‘Well I think it’s a great idea. You’ve been like a beacon for complete prats for the last two decades, and it’s time you concentrated on understanding your own energy field and what you’re putting out to the universe.’ Ever since her sister Tasha had decided to study Mindfulness and Visualisation to fill the void left by her youngest child reaching school age, she’d been peppering all her sentences with words like ‘emotional intelligence’ and ‘cognitive defusion’.

‘Thanks Tash. I feel very positive about it actually, it’s going well.’

‘So, when did you start this man-ban?’ Judy finally ventured, rolling the last two words around her mouth as though they were part of a foreign language.

‘Last Tuesday.’ Leila replied.

They all erupted in the type of laughter that makes furniture shake. Even Tasha’s three children joined in, the younger two, being only four and seven, had no idea what the hell they were howling about, but that didn’t stop them. Marcus’s annoying new girlfriend Lucy was chuckling away with the rest of them too, her perfect flicky-out hair bobbing along in time with her giggles.

‘I’m glad that I amuse you all so much.’ Leila huffed. ‘Next time one of you makes an important life choice remind me to be equally as supportive.’

‘Sorry darling,’ Judy rested her hand on her daughter’s arm. ‘We are supportive, it’s just that you haven’t got a great track record with seeing things through.’

Leila put her hand on her chest in mock disgust. ‘I am offended by that, Mother.’

‘Violin. Ice skating. Veganism. Boot camp. Spanish. Watercolour painting. Salsa. Am I missing anything Thomas?’ Judy had seven fingers outstretched in front of her as she counted off all the pursuits Leila had let trail off after getting bored.

‘Ryan. Carlos. Simon. Steve. Robbie. Luke. Oliver. Liam. Freddie.’ Marcus added. He always took sides with Judy. Such a mummy’s boy. ‘And those are the only ones you introduced us to. There must be more that never got to the meet-the-family stage.’

‘That’s not the same! At all! I have been very unlucky in love, and I haven’t found the right hobby yet. Two completely different things.’

‘You are a bit fickle sweetheart,’ Thomas topped up her wine glass.

‘Adding the word “sweetheart” at the end of that damning insult does not lessen it Dad. And I am not fickle. I am merely seeking perfection in everything I do.’

‘And every one,’ Alex, Tasha’s husband chimed in.

‘Alex!’ Tasha and Judy exclaimed at the same time.

‘Let’s not lower the tone, Alex, it is Sunday after all.’ Leila thought Tasha’s remonstration based on it being the Sabbath was a tad hypocritical – the last time her sister had attended church was her own wedding fifteen years ago.

‘Right, let’s change the subject. Yummy roast Mum, new chef?’ It was a running joke in the family that because Leila’s mum and dad ran a hotel, they got all their meals cooked for them, whereas in fact, apart from the occasional Ploughman’s that Thomas would surreptitiously steal from the kitchen downstairs, Judy made all their meals.

It wasn’t a spur of the moment decision, becoming celibate, despite what her family thought. Leila had always been interested in reading about women embarking on periods of self-discovery and contemplation, but had always measured her own sense of self-worth by leaping from one relationship straight into another rather than taking some time out. Admittedly, when she’d called for silence by pinging her mobile against her wine glass and giving her impassioned declaration to Jayne, Amanda and Shelley last Tuesday, she was fuelled by a few gin and tonics, but that was coincidental.

They too had followed a stunned silence with stomach-grabbing laughter. Then they’d laid bets on the table about how long she’d last. It was perhaps testament to her track record of inconsistency that there was currently £4000 in the pot. ‘This is a bet I have to take!’ her former flatmate Amanda had squealed. ‘So if by some miracle and personality transplant, you pull it off, we give you a grand each, and if you don’t then you have to pay each of us a grand.’

‘Which basically means you’ll have to sell a kidney,’ Jayne warned. ‘Don’t take the bet Leila, you’re just reeling because of what twatty Freddie did, in a couple of weeks, you’ll think differently.’