Dan looked at the single plate on the counter, enough to tell him she wasn’t planning on tucking into it herself.
‘Unless you’ve taken a leaf out of Maeve’s book,’ she continued. ‘And have met someone else.’
Here we go again, he thought.
‘I thought we were done with this subject,’ he said.
She looked him directly in the eyes, waiting for the slightest hint of deception to reveal itself. Dan refused to look away. It was a game they’d been playing since he was a child, although back then, the challenge was usually over a biscuit he’d denied eating between meals.
As she continued to stare, a part of Dan understood the tight grip that his mother seemed to want to exert. After all, since his dad’s death years ago, it had just been the two of them and they shared a pretty close bond because of it. At the same time, he hated the tabs she tried to keep on his love life, on his life in general. He wished she’d just let him get on with things for himself from time to time. Even when she was off on her travels, thanks to modern day technology, there was no escaping her, she knew her way around a smart phone better than he did.
‘Now you’re just being daft,’ he said, although his denials did nothing to ease his mother’s suspicions.
‘You would tell me if you’d met someone though, wouldn’t you?’ she asked, scrutinising his face throughout.
His thoughts immediately transported back to the woman he’d met the other night. A woman he’d no intentions of telling his mother about. Introducing herself as Annabel, she’d managed to create quite an impression. After all, it’s not every day a gorgeous lady asked him to father their child. Then again, she had been pretty drunk. And just like his mum, she was clearly as mad as a hatter. He smiled to himself, unable to help but think that she and the woman standing before him would probably get on quite well.
‘How could I not tell you?’ said Dan, maintaining his gaze. ‘You interrogate me almost every week. Anyway, what about you?’ Dan often wished his mum had another man in her life. If she had, then maybe she wouldn’t focus quite so much on him. ‘Who’s to say you’re not keeping something from me.’
‘Rubbish!’ said his mum, at last releasing her visual stranglehold. She turned her attention back to the stove. ‘I mean, I’ve never been one to keep secrets, have I? So why would I start now?’
Dan stepped through the door, ready to dazzle with his building expertise. However, before he could even get his bearings, he found himself ushered back out into the street again.
‘Sorry, mate,’ said Mr Watson. ‘Can we do this some other time?’
After having arrived to price the job up, getting a quote now seemed the last thing on his potential client’s mind. This was something that Dan thought strange when he considered how keen the man had been when they’d first arranged the appointment. Mr. Watson’s eagerness to get works underway was the sole reason Dan had agreed to an evening visit in the first place.
‘Is everything okay?’ he asked, trying to peer through the window.
‘Oh it’s nothing to do with the shop. I still want to go ahead and knock through,’ the man explained. ‘It’s my son. He’s had an injury at football practice. Nothing too serious, thank goodness. But I’ve got to get over there.’ He began searching his pockets for his keys. ‘Kids, eh? That boy will be the death of me.’ He let out a little chuckle. ‘That’s if he doesn’t kill himself first.’
Dan tried to raise a smile. His customer might have been joking, but he recognised genuine concern when he saw it. Injuries at various sporting events had elicited a similar response from his mother back in the day, even if, like this chap, she’d attempted to hide it.
‘Maybe later in the week?’
‘Yeah, sure,’ said Dan. He stepped out of the way so the man could lock up. ‘Give us a call and we’ll sort something out.’
Dan watched him race off down the street, he hoped Mr Watson was right; that his son hadn’t suffered too bad an injury. At the same time though, he couldn’t help but wonder if serendipity was conspiring against him.
He seemed to be seeing fathers and their children everywhere at the moment, or in this case hearing about them. He recalled the chap at the park, playing ball with his little boy. The three-year-old having a tantrum in the supermarket when Dan had nipped in for some herb his mum had insisted she needed, which of course they didn’t stock. Then there was that bloke who’d had to stop his kid from running out into the road, just as a motorbike zoomed by. Honestly, they were everywhere; something that Dan found disconcerting, to say the least.
He remembered it being the same when he got his new car. Nothing fancy, but he’d never noticed so many of that make and model on the road until he got his own. Still his pride and joy, they seemed to be all over the place. His mother had called it Observational Selection Bias when he’d mentioned it. Trust her to know. However, for Dan it was just plain spooky. Now he found fathers and their children coming at him from each and every angle. Again, something Dan found equally as strange and, no doubt, it was all because of that Annabel woman. Her proposition had obviously gotten to him.
Again, Dan’s thoughts drifted back to the other night. Along with every other bloke present, he’d noticed her as soon as she entered the bar. He could see she was out of his league, the reason he spent the next hour or so trying and failing to pluck up the courage to go and introduce himself. In fact, he probably wouldn’t have spoken to her at all had she not approached him.
He could still smell the sweetness of her perfume as she appeared at his side. Moreover, he still felt amazed that she’d picked him out of the crowd.
‘Can I buy you a drink?’ she asked.
He recalled the slight slur in her voice. Despite trying to hide it, she’d clearly had one too many. Then again, so had he.
She held out her hand, formalising her presence. ‘I’m Annabel.’
‘Dan,’ he replied. ‘Pleased to meet you.’ Returning her gaze, she had the most beautiful, soulful eyes. They had a worldliness to them that he couldn’t quite describe. He put his glass to his lips, still in shock because she was actually talking to him.
‘Glad to hear it,’ she said, simple as that. ‘Because I have a proposition.’
Half way through a swig of his pint, Dan almost choked. For someone who looked all sweetness and light, this woman was certainly a fast mover. ‘Excuse me?’ he said. The part of him that liked to be wooed suddenly felt nervous, the other part couldn’t believe its luck. ‘A proposition?’
‘Yes,’ said Annabel.
Dan watched her down her drink. Her hands shook, telling him that she was as new to this situation as him. Composing herself, she took a deep breath, before looking him directly in the face. Imagining the night ahead, he waited for her to continue.
‘I’d like to have your baby,’ she said.
At the time, Dan thought her request ludicrous. Not that he admitted to this. Too busy thinking with his trousers rather than his brain, he’d have been back to her place like a shot if she hadn’t insisted he take some time to mull it over- something he hadn’t stopped doing since. To the point that the more he thought, the less absurd the idea seemed and all thanks to his over-protective mother.
He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t get Annabel out of his head. There was just something about her. He could be doing the most mundane of tasks and she’d simply appear in his mind’s eye. Then again, he considered, she was bound to have had some sort of impact. Like he kept telling himself, it wasn’t every day a gorgeous woman insisted he get her pregnant.
As for the so called observational selection bias, half of him wanted to accept his mother’s explanation. However, the other half didn’t feel quite so sure.
‘Maybe the Gods are trying to tell me something,’ he said, as he thought back to the earlier conversation he’d had at home. ‘Maybe they’re telling me I should take her up on her offer. That this could be my only chance.’
Dan had always wanted childr
en, but thanks to his mum and her funny ways he couldn’t see himself enjoying parenthood any time soon. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more the odds seemed against him when it came to having his own offspring in any conventional sense.
After all, in order for that to happen he’d have to be in a relationship and in order to be in a relationship, he’d have to get rid of his mother.
4
Annabel put her pen to the corner of her mouth, repeatedly tapping it against her lip. She knew this bouquet had to be special, but in assessing what she’d come up with so far, it still didn’t feel quite right. She began reading back her check list.
‘Avalanche Roses for purity and innocence,’ she said. ‘Freesias, delicate like the baby they’ve been praying for.’
‘Singapore Orchids representing love and strength in the new Mum. And finally, Gypsophila – child’s breath. All of them white.’
She stared at the piece of paper. As thoughtful as this creation might be, there was definitely something missing. Annabel recalled her conversation with the new Dad when he’d phoned to place the order. Maybe something he’d said could give her a clue? In his excitement, he rambled on, and on, about how he couldn’t believe he’d finally become a father. He and his wife had been trying for years; in fact, nine months ago they’d just about given up hope.
‘I know,’ she said, at last, deciding the ensemble needed a bit of fun. ‘A Hydrangea head, for their perseverance.’
Allowing her cheeky side to come to the fore, she giggled as she jotted this down; and while imagining the poor chap being summoned to the bedroom at all hours of the day, told herself that even florists were allowed the odd in-joke.
She knew the new Dad didn’t really care what went into his bouquet. Her customers very rarely did. For most, having something that looked the part was all that mattered, but Annabel couldn’t help herself. Every arrangement had to symbolise the event it was catering for and even though no one else knew the significance of each individual flower, at least she did. Choosing the right flowers for the right occasion was one of the things she most loved about her job. An aspect that had only come to the fore after Tom’s death.
She thought back to that awful time. Making a wreath for him had been one of the most painful things she’d ever had to do. Yes, she could have asked another florist to step in. She could have even given them a list of all the flora and fauna she wanted to be included. But someone else wouldn’t have put their heart and soul into it like Annabel had done. Not to mention their tears. Such was its impact, she still cried a little to this day when it came to making up arrangements for funerals. But from Tom’s death onwards, she made sure that no matter what the event, all her creations had significance.
Finally, satisfied with her choices, Annabel put the pen down, ready to set about getting everything together. She grabbed the scissors and her belly began to rumble. ‘It can’t be lunchtime already,’ she said. Annabel looked over at the wall clock, she noted that it was a quarter-past-twelve. ‘Please, no. Not again.’ Annabel pictured Katy sitting at their usual table, impatiently awaiting her late arrival. She sighed. ‘Someone’s not going to be a happy bunny.’
She dropped everything and quickly headed out back to collect her handbag. She silently insisted that if she was quick her friend would still be waiting. Annabel hastily flipped the closed sign as she made her exit and rushed off on her lunch date.
‘Ouch!’ she suddenly cried out.
In her haste, she hadn’t noticed the individual about to pass by and bumped straight into them; it felt like she’d walked into a wall. ‘Can’t you watch where you’re going?’
‘Well excuse me,’ said a male voice. ‘Even if you are the one who knocked into me.’
Annabel dusted herself down, she couldn’t believe the man’s cheek and was ready to give him a piece of her mind. She looked him square in the face, and froze, recognising the human obstacle before her. Trying to speak, the words wouldn’t come out.
She watched the man’s face break into a smile. ‘Hello again,’ he said. ‘Annabel, isn’t it?’
Annabel cringed; she wanted the ground to swallow her whole. ‘It’s you,’ she said. ‘From last week.’
‘Dan, yes.’ The man replied.
Embarrassment welled as she recalled her drunken slurring that night; she’d taken the phrase ‘Dutch Courage’ to its limit. Seeing him grin back at her, he obviously remembered events too. Why, oh why, hadn’t she limited herself to one or two glasses?
His amusement continued while he waited for her to say something, reminding Annabel why, out of the crowd, she’d ultimately chosen him as the one to father her child. He had one of those smiles that lit up his whole face, just like Tom had had. Of course, that still didn’t excuse him not watching where he was going, she decided, at last pulling herself together. And what was he doing here anyway?
Her stomach did a little flip. Unless he’d come to take her up on her offer?
‘I’d shake your hand,’ said Dan. ‘But I feel our relationship has already moved on.’
Annabel’s heart sank. The man was clearly laughing at her and she felt her glimmer of hope fast disappear, along with the last of her dignity.
Not that she could blame him. Again, thinking back to her rather inebriated, yet very serious conversation about him being the one to help her procreate, he had every right to tease her. Talk about easy pickings. To him, she was probably just some drunken woman desperate for a shag.
However, if that really was his view, she supposed, under the circumstances, she should be glad he hadn’t taken her speech all that seriously. On the down side though, this did mean she was going to have to go through the whole rigmarole again with someone else; except this time it would be minus the alcohol. But why the unexpected visit if it wasn’t to talk about babies, she wondered and suddenly suspicious, she took a step back.
‘So what can I do for you?’ she asked. ‘What are you doing here?’
It began to dawn on her just how stupid she’d been. Everyone knew there were lots of weirdoes out there, yet for some reason, stranger danger had been the one thing she hadn’t banked on. In her search for a prospective father, the last thing she’d considered was the possibility of having a deranged stalker on her hands and she just hoped she wasn’t about to pay the price.
She tried to remember if, apart from her mobile number, she’d given him any personal information that night. Her overriding feeling was that she was quite sure that she hadn’t.
‘I could say the same about you,’ he replied, which, as far as Annabel was concerned, explained absolutely nothing.
Determined not to show any fear, she pointed to the sign emblazoned above the window. ‘It’s my shop,’ she said.
Her heart sank even further as she suddenly realised what she’d just done. If the would-be maniac standing here didn’t know exactly where to find her before, thanks to her and her big mouth, he certainly did now.
‘Small world,’ he said.
Annoyed with herself as much as she was him, Annabel gave him a stern look. ‘If you could answer the question, please,’ she said.
Finally, he relented. ‘I’m doing some work around the corner, if you must know.’
‘What kind of work?’
Dan laughed. ‘What’s with the twenty questions? Besides, shouldn’t you have asked me these things before you gave me your number?’
She knew he had a point, but to be fair to herself, it wasn’t his earning potential she’d been interested in. ‘And what a fruitless exercise that turned out to be,’ she said.
‘Let’s just say I’m still thinking about it,’ he replied.
Great, more teasing, just what Annabel didn’t need.
Annabel decided that she’d wasted enough time on this man already. ‘Consider your decision made,’ she said. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.’
She stuck her nose in the air and bustled off down the street. Without bothering to look back, s
he knew that he was staring after her.
‘Make the most of it while you can, Danny boy,’ she said, insisting that if he really was going to murder her he’d have done it by now. ‘Because this is the last you’ll be seeing of me.’
By the time she got to the coffee shop, Annabel was practically out of breath. Understandably so, she realised, checking her watch. In speed walking terms, she had just beaten her personal best. Upon entering, she spotted Katy at their usual table, and relieved to find she hadn’t missed her, waved to catch her attention before racing over. ‘Sorry I’m late,’ she said, almost panting as she took a seat.
Her friend indicated to the latte on the table. ‘It should still be warm. I guessed you’d be running behind, so it’s not long been ordered.’
Grateful for the gesture, Annabel duly picked up the glass and took a sip. ‘I had this arrangement to sort out,’ she said. ‘Some bloke wanting something special for his wife. They’ve just had a baby, the lucky so and soes. Anyway, I got waylaid deciding which flowers to include.’ She took another drink of her coffee. At last able to relax, it was just what she needed. ‘So,’ she said, ready to give her friend her undivided attention. ‘What’s new?’
Katy didn’t answer, but as far as Annabel was concerned she didn’t have to. Her face said it all. She wore one of those expressions that didn’t just say I thought you’d never ask, it said I have some really exciting news, but for some reason, I’m choosing to pretend it isn’t. Annabel had seen that look on her friend’s face enough times to know what it meant. ‘Go on then,’ she asked. ‘Who is he?’
Katy grinned. ‘Just some hunk of a man I met at the gym,’ she coolly explained.
Annabel knew her friend’s calm and collected exterior wouldn’t last; that within seconds she’d be morphing into a rambling, excitable schoolgirl in front of her very eyes. She silently began counting down. Three, Two, One.
‘His name’s Oliver, but I call him sex on legs. Honestly, he’s gorgeous. I can’t wait for you to meet him. Well maybe not just yet, it’s probably a bit early. Especially when it’s nothing serious. You know me, I don’t do serious.’
The Trouble With Words: a heart-warming romantic comedy Page 3