‘What about London? I’ve told you what it was like.’
‘I don’t know why you left; why you are so hard on yourself. But I get it – sometimes the past is best left behind. Like my teenage Twilight phase. I honestly believed vampires existed at one point.’ I kept it bright and cheery. ‘Anyway, I’d better get going and do my usual evening sweep of the residents’ Facebook group and see if any questions have come up today about the calendar. And… and I think I’ve got another Tinder date, tomorrow night, so I just need to confirm that.’
There. Hopefully he’d believe that I couldn’t care less about Paula and his love life.
‘Fern… don’t go…’ He looked across the road at the chip shop. ‘Have you got time for a drink? I haven’t eaten yet.’
My date with Neil had finished earlier than I’d expected. I hesitated. ‘Okay.’ I followed him over the road although unease shifted in my chest. We went into the warm, passing a fake silver Christmas tree. We’d come here a couple of months ago, only to discover that we both had the exact same favourite chip shop meal – cod, mushy peas, chips and the absolute must-have, a pickled onion.
I ordered a mug of tea and he ate whilst I sipped my drink.
‘I suspect this isn’t as refined as the meal you’ve had tonight,’ he said. ‘What did you have? Mussels. Coq au vin? The French are really good at lamb too, aren’t they?’
‘Duck with a blueberry sauce, believe it or not. I figured if I was daring enough to try online dating then I may as well be more adventurous with my food.’
‘What was this bloke like?’
‘Lovely. I struck lucky for my first ever Tinder date.’
‘Shame. I was looking forward to receiving your “time to rock’n’roll” text so that I could turn up and throw my drink down you.’
I tried to smile.
‘Is it him you’re seeing tomorrow then?’
‘No,’ I said, airily. ‘Another guy.’
He picked up his knife and fork again. Eventually he gave a satisfied sigh and pushed away his plate. We ordered two more mugs of tea. Chatted about the calendar. The waitress brought our drinks over with a bag containing two free muffins that were going out of date.
‘I was in a right state when I left London,’ he said.
‘Kit. You don’t have to explain. You have a life of your own, of course, as I saw tonight.’
I wanted to act grown-up. Truly I did. But I just couldn’t help it.
I felt like a fool. Hated the fact he was tip-toeing around the subject of Paula as if finding out the truth about them would devastate me. I wasn’t a lovestruck teenager. I was a sensible, capable mother who could quite easily deal with the first man she liked since her husband had died liking another woman.
Super easily.
There was no problem at all.
‘What do you mean?’ his cheeks flushed.
‘I saw you, Kit. Saw you with Paula. The long hug – the type of hug you don’t give to people who are just friends. You weren’t with a group of people. You’re dating her and for some reason don’t want me to know. To be honest, it all feels a little patronising.’
‘It’s not like that, Fern. I can see why you’d think—’
‘Oh please. Don’t lie to me any more than you already have.’
His skin turned pale. ‘That’s what you think? That I’m a liar?’
‘Why didn’t you just tell me it was Paula you’d met up with tonight? I know her. Don’t you think it’s odd that you didn’t?’
‘It’s not that straightforward,’ he said and shook his head. ‘I can’t believe that you, out of all people, think that I’m not an honest person. I… thought you knew me better than that, Fern. I thought we trusted each other.’
‘Don’t throw this on me,’ I said, heat surging up my neck as weeks of frustration burst inside me. ‘You’re the one playing games. I haven’t let any other man get close, not since Adam – as a friend or anything else. It’s been a big thing. I thought we were upfront with each other. But now this? Was this how it was in London? Half-truths and intrigue? Is that why you ran away?’
‘It’s been a big thing for me too, believe it or not, to open up.’
‘Really? Well, it looked like you were pretty close to Paula as well.’
‘You sound jealous.’
My ears felt hot. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. I just… since Adam… I need things to be simple. I don’t want complications. And I thought you were transparent. But now…’
Kit scraped back his chair. Pushed the bag of muffins over to me. He stood up and walked out.
Who did he think he was? Taking offence when it was me who’d been lied to? I hurried after him, ignoring the stares of the waitress. I caught up and grabbed his arm.
‘Is that it? You’ve nothing more to say?’
He swung around. ‘There’s no point.’ His voice was clipped. ‘You’ve obviously come to your own conclusions about the sort of person I am, despite all these months of friendship.’
‘So it’s all my fault?’ I snapped and stepped closer, folding my arms. His head bent down. Angrily we stared at each other. I studied the determined cheekbones. The generous lips. I could hear my heart pound in my head as he placed his hands on my arms and gently unfolded them. I fought a sudden urge to wrap them tightly around him and pull him close, so that our bodies were one.
Gently he held my arms by my side.
‘Don’t be cross,’ he said, in a soft tone.
I couldn’t be. Not with him this close. Not when I felt such magnetism. I ran my tongue around my mouth, unable to hide what every atom of my body was telling me to do.
Kit’s grip tightened as Christmas music wafted across from the pub again. My heartbeat could have kept time with the fastest piano notes as his lips parted.
Out of nowhere a car backfired. He let go. Stepped away and looked dazed.
‘Your instincts are probably right, Fern.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘It’s better for you that you believe the worst of me. I’m bad news. You only need to ask my mum and dad.’
He frowned and before I could reply he headed down the street. Looking like a Viking heading into battle, he broke into a run and disappeared into the night.
24
I stood outside the Cross Keys pub in Chesterwood and paced up and down. A group of young friends walked past laughing, with tinsel around their necks and wearing face glitter. I still felt wound up after my argument with Kit last night. Wound up because I was annoyed with myself. Kit was no liar. I knew that. And if he didn’t want to tell me about Paula, if I was a good friend, I should respect that.
I’d texted him this morning.
Sorry about last night. I was being stupid. You’ve been a good friend. I’m really pleased for you and Paula. Can we meet for a coffee? Or maybe we could go to the cinema.
There was a space movie about humans relocating to Mars that we’d both wanted to see. Perhaps he was hoping now that I lived that far away. He didn’t respond to the text and who could blame him? And he still didn’t when I tried again later.
Now I’d calmed down I was regretting marching home to organise a second Tinder date, even though Lily had been excited about spending another evening with a keen Megan. I’d left them playing board games. It wasn’t often I was out both a Friday and Saturday night. I felt guilty. Lily and I hadn’t enjoyed our usual weekend evening time.
Davina and Max had taken the twins away to stay with friends for the weekend. Lily and I rarely did that. It wasn’t the same visiting couples Adam and I used to know, when there was just the one of me. The symmetry was out. Most of those friendships had faded away.
Cara had a bad cold and was in bed – but John was there to spend time with Hannah and Lex. The last time I’d been laid up in bed, Lily had to bring me glasses of water and entertain herself, sitting in front of her books or the television.
Single parenting, I’d discovered, could be one long-haul guilt trip. I felt bad about t
he times I lost patience. Or felt too tired to play. I wished I earned more money for the foreign holidays some of her friends enjoyed. The laundry wasn’t always done on time. Some nights, after a hard day’s working, I simply made cheese on toast for tea.
The question marks over my parenting skills loomed large after Adam’s death. I realised just how much he’d helped me keep perspective. It had taken several months before I realised that maybe, just maybe, I could do a decent job of bringing Lily up by myself.
I pushed open the pub’s door and stepped into the warmth. Immediately on the right was a traditional green Christmas tree bearing an array of different coloured baubles. Bing Crosby’s voice greeted me along with raucous chatter and the smell of beer. Multi-coloured glittery snowflake garlands hung across the ceiling. I walked towards the mirrored bar. The mahogany tables were almost all taken, even though it was just eight o’clock. I didn’t drink much anyway, but had decided to definitely drive tonight. My heart just wasn’t in being sociable after last night’s argument with Kit. I wasn’t planning to stay long.
However, I wasn’t proud of myself for having simply arranged this evening to prove a point to Kit, so I would give this Rob a chance. That was only fair. I wore a white blouse and jeans with high heels. We hadn’t messaged much, but he seemed nice enough. I’d already warmed to the fact that he was an RSPCA officer – anyone who worked against animal cruelty was in my good books. Plus in his picture he had a nice smile. Like me, he was just out of his twenties.
Perhaps this date would be a good thing? I looked around. Rob said he’d be wearing a checked shirt. He’d wanted to go for a meal but I hadn’t felt in the mood for anything remotely romantic. I’d said I just wanted to keep things chill and have a few drinks. I went up to the bar and looked at the mocktail menu before ordering a seasonal orange and cranberry spritzer.
‘Fern?’
I jumped at the voice right behind my ear and whiff of musky aftershave. I turned around.
‘I thought I recognised those curls.’
Cheeky smile. Short wavy hair. Clean shaven. So far so good. The profile photo had been of him. Although in the flesh he looked more like twenty-five.
‘Nice to meet you, Rob,’ I said and held out my hand, feeling a little over formal. He bowed and held my fingers for a little longer than felt comfortable.
‘What would you like?’ I asked. ‘Why don’t you find a table and I’ll bring over the drinks.’
‘And that’s why I like older women. I’m all for my partner taking charge, if you know what I mean.’ He winked.
‘You aren’t in your thirties?’ A sinking feeling washed across my stomach.
‘No. I didn’t want to put you off. Some women your age think twenty-three is a bit young. But my mum says I’m very mature.’
Said no grown-up ever.
‘But then Tinder lives off little white lies. I mean…’ He scoffed. ‘As if Fern is your real name.’
‘As a matter of fact, it is.’
‘Right. Sure. And mine’s Cedar.’ He grinned. ‘I’ll have a beer. Ta.’
I had the feeling this might be a long evening but chastised myself for writing Rob off so early. I paid for our drinks and took them over to a table for two that he’d found by the window. Fairy lights flashed intermittently along the fronts of shops over the road outside. I sat down in front of a stand-up Christmas menu offering customers a two for one deal on mains.
I raised my mocktail. Our glasses clinked.
‘You work for the RSPCA, Rob? That’s amazing.’
‘And you’re a journalist? Tell me a bit about it.’
I explained that I worked from home because it suited life with my daughter. I’d mentioned her in my Tinder bio. There was no point dating someone who didn’t know.
‘You don’t look old enough to have an eight year old kid,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a brother in high school. He drives me mad. I can’t wait to move out.’
‘You still live at home with your parents? You’ve never been tempted to get your own place?’
I tried to keep an open mind. That shouldn’t be a deal-breaker. Rent and mortgages were more expensive than ever these days.
‘What, and have to do my laundry myself? I’d miss Mum’s cooking so much. I bet with a kid, you’re a whizz in the kitchen.’
Freudian alarm bells started ringing.
We chatted about our favourite takeaways and restaurants. The conversation didn’t go any deeper. He bought the next round of drinks and I probed him again about his career.
‘Bet you want to see the uniform,’ he said and before I could decline pulled out his phone. I gazed at the photo. My journalist brain twitched. I was pretty sure RSPCA officers didn’t wear caps.
‘How long have you been working for them?’ I asked.
‘Five years. Straight from school.’
‘It must be a tough job.’
‘Nah. What’s not to like? Rescuing all those cute kittens and puppies.’ He took a big slurp of beer.
That didn’t sound like the job I’d seen on animal rescue documentaries, where a lot of the time officers had to deal with abusive or neglectful owners.
‘Rob. What’s your real job?’ I asked calmly.
Another mouthful of beer went down the wrong way and he coughed. ‘I’ve told you—’
I raised an eyebrow.
He snorted, a twinkle in his eye. ‘Fair do’s. You caught me out. I like a clever woman. But it’s not a total lie. I do actually work with animals.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. But what I do doesn’t sound as appealing.’ Rob wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
‘There’s nothing as appealing to a woman as the truth,’ I said and smiled sweetly.
He flicked a beer mat into the air and caught it. ‘Okay. I’m a butcher,’ he shrugged. ‘It’s still working with animals. They just happen to be dead.’
Speechless. Utterly speechless.
He put the beer mat down and leant forwards. ‘I’m handling all that flesh, day in, day out… just think how good I am with my hands,’ he said earnestly.
Okayyyy. My cue to leave.
‘Everyone’s a little creative with their profile, Fern,’ he continued, leaning back, legs wide apart. ‘In fact, people can be more than creative on their dates as well. Like getting a phone call and pleading an emergency before having to scuttle off.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘It’s so lame.’
‘That’s happened to you?’
‘Yeah. More than once. With women my own age. That’s why I like you older types. You’ve got more staying power and aren’t afraid of men who are upfront. I don’t see the point in beating around the bush. No one goes on Tinder for poetry and candles, right?’ He drained his beer.
‘I just need the loo,’ I said and pushed back my chair before hurrying away to the toilets.
I stood in front of the mirror. What on earth was I doing? How was I going to escape? I couldn’t bother Davina on her weekend away and ask her to ring me back and in any case, Rob had already seen through that ruse. Cara was too ill to come down and meet me. I could just walk out but – annoyingly – it was against my nature to be so rude. The usual me would just tell him straight that I wasn’t interested, but after last night’s argument with Kit I was in no mood for further confrontation. If there was no other option, I wouldn’t hesitate but… an idea niggled.
There was the code Kit and I had agreed, to get me out of an awkward date.
Okay. We’d talked about it as a joke. And I was capable of looking after myself. But the plan would offer a foolproof way of ending the evening with Rob. More than that, it was probably the best chance I had of seeing Kit to talk. He’d have every right to ignore me and might even be out with Paula, but at least this provided a genuine reason for contacting him again.
I took out my phone, found Kit’s details and typed.
Time to Rock and Roll. The Cross Keys, Chesterwood. PLEASE.
I pressed send then headed
back out to Rob. He was chatting to two young women on a table nearby.
‘Hey, Fern, we’re playing Never Did I Ever.’
Please God. How did the situation get even worse?
‘I’m not sure…’
‘Oh go on, it’ll be fun,’ he said and grinned. ‘My turn: never did I ever have a threesome with my next-door neighbour and her gran…’
Minutes, seconds, nanoseconds, had never dragged so slowly. Thirty minutes and I was close to butchering the butcher. I could wait no longer.
‘Rob. I’m really sorry, but I’m going to have to—’
‘Aw Fern. Don’t bail on me now! I thought after here we could—’
‘Aargh!’ I shrieked. A cold liquid drenched my back. People around me gasped. I jumped to my feet and stood dripping. I turned around to face Kit, holding an empty glass of red wine.
Ah. Yes. The exact details of the code we’d laughingly agreed had slipped my mind.
‘That’s my white blouse ruined!’ I said in a loud, indignant voice but discreetly shot him a grateful smile.
‘I’m so clumsy. Please, accept my apologies,’ he said, politely. ‘I must pay for the dry-cleaning.’
I turned around to Rob who had his fist in his mouth, trying not to laugh.
‘Jeez, Fern. Bad luck – want me to help you dry off?’
‘No thanks. I’m soaked and going to have to go home to change. Goodnight, Rob. I don’t think you’re really my type, but nice to meet you anyway.’ I grabbed my coat and hurried outside before he had a chance to reply.
25
I stood outside, shivering. Kit took my coat and passed me his.
‘I wore an old one on purpose,’ he said. ‘You don’t want to put yours on, it’ll get stained.’
‘Thanks for coming. I really appreciate it.’ I gave a wry smile. ‘Although I forgot the details of our plan and that I was wearing a white top.’
He grinned. ‘No worries. It wasn’t wine. I asked the barman to make me a glass of very strong blackcurrant squash. Hopefully that’ll be easier to wash out.’
That summed up Kit. Thoughtful. A true friend.
The Christmas Calendar Girls Page 16