The Gin O'Clock Club

by Rosie Blake

  I felt a warmth fill my chest, glad that Grandad liked having me round more. I had been worried recently that my temper would spill into his house and had tried to stay as calm as I could. But some days, after sleep had eluded me, work had piled up and Luke’s short phone calls asking if I’d be home had been one too many, I’d been tipped over the edge.

  Arjun arrived last, his lined face the picture of health, back from another of his foreign golf tours. ‘Lottie!’ He gave me a hug and I was reminded of how thin he was under all his layers. ‘Excellent to see you.’

  ‘Come in, come in,’ I said, ushering them inside. ‘Grandad’s in the living room setting up the table.’

  ‘Are you joining us, Lottie?’ Geoffrey asked.

  ‘I can’t, I’m afraid, I’ve got work to do.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ he said, no malice in his reply. He lifted a bag he was holding, ‘I’m in charge of the drinks and tonight it’s gin flavoured with camomile flowers.’

  ‘Sounds exotic!’ I laughed, wishing then that I was about to sit round the living-room table with them, settle into the high-back chairs with a large glass of ice-cold gin and listen to their high spirits, teasing, seeing Grandad’s face crease in amusement. Instead I dragged my feet into the kitchen where I had dumped the teetering pile of my work things.

  They’d been playing a while and I was attempting to focus on the closing statement I was due to make the next day. I was trying to be as succinct as possible, drawing lines through some of the more flowery sentences to keep the spotlight on the facts of the case. Every now and again I would tune into the conversation leaking out of next door. Persimmon shares had gone up so Arjun was going to sell; someone from his yoga class had caught norovirus on a recent cruise and had stayed in his cabin and missed seeing the Northern Lights, and Geoffrey’s handicap was now 20.

  Then I heard a chair scraping back and Howard’s booming voice. ‘I’ve met a woman!’ he announced. ‘She’s fantastic.’

  The whole table groaned. I snuck a look at the door through to the hallway and smiled.

  ‘She’s one of a kind.’

  ‘Didn’t you say that about the last three?’

  ‘Was that why you cancelled the lunch on Sunday?’

  ‘Is it she who you have been WhatsApping?’

  ‘What’s apping?’

  ‘Christ, Geoffrey, we need to get you an iPhone.’

  ‘My phone handset is fine.’

  It reminded me of boozy nights with Amy and other friends: the gossip, bickering, teasing. Did anything change? Through the continued mutterings of ‘Here we go’, ‘Please God let her not be in her forties again’, I could make out my grandad’s low chuckle and I felt heartened.

  ‘She’s quite the gal.’

  ‘Like you need another one. What happened to Patricia?’ Arjun asked.

  ‘And Blythe?’ Geoffrey piped up.

  ‘Over, over, and they couldn’t hold a candle to her.’ ‘It’s Teddy here who needs a woman – spare one for him,’

  Arjun said.

  My pen hovered over the pad I was writing on.

  ‘I certainly do not,’ came Grandad’s voice, aghast.

  I tapped my pen on the lined pad as I continued to eavesdrop.

  ‘Well, a chance to see what’s out there, at least.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Teddy, you told me that last night you spent the evening rearranging the cutlery drawer.’

  ‘You did say that,’ Geoffrey agreed.

  ‘It was a mess,’ Grandad protested.

  ‘I used a spoon to dribble honey on Blyt—’

  ‘Howard, we don’t need to know. We never need to know.’

  ‘Please don’t let him finish that sentence.’

  Arjun wasn’t giving up. ‘I’m serious though, Teddy. You probably need something to take your mind off things—’

  Howard excitedly chipped in. ‘I’m telling you, Teddy, it’s a buyers’ market. We’re completely outnumbered – it’s probably three to one in our favour.’

  I stifled a giggle, clamping a hand over my mouth. He really was appalling.

  ‘So, if there are such rich pickings, how come you are settling down with this one of a kind?’ Grandad had always been able to take on Howard, who, for all his bluster, loved my grandad like a brother.

  There were more chuckles, the clink of glasses and I had clean forgotten the work laid out in front of me. It was enough for tonight anyway, I tried to convince myself as I packed my things away.

  ‘Last week I was asked out three times,’ Howard went on. ‘Three times. By three separate women.’

  ‘I wish I could say the same about men,’ Arjun mumbled sadly.

  ‘You’d think now that being homosexual is more fashionable you’d be inundated, my friend,’ Howard said.

  I paused, impressed with Howard’s new-found sensitivity.

  ‘But you are a lost cause, as we have learnt,’ he went on, despite heckles from the other three. I’m pretty sure someone punched him in the arm as he made an oof sound before continuing, ‘Stop that. Teddy here, however, is new on the scene: he is fresh meat, if you will.’

  I got up, their voices louder as I stepped into the hallway. As I appeared in the doorway of the living room, all four men turned to look at me. The table was littered with cards, bowls of pretzels, bottles and four almost-empty glasses.

  ‘What were you saying then, Howard? About Grandad?’

  Howard’s eyes rounded in panic, worried perhaps he was offending me. ‘Oh, it was nothing. Well, I just thought, maybe it would be good for your grandad to look for some female company. He rearranged cutlery last night, Lottie.’

  ‘Stop it!’ Grandad protested, aiming a pretzel at Howard’s chest.

  ‘Do you think Howard’s right?’ I blurted, looking at Arjun and Geoffrey.

  ‘Not you, Lottie,’ Grandad sighed, a small smile as he drained his drink. ‘Honestly, I’m fine.’

  ‘Well, I . . . ’ Arjun squirmed in his chair, clearly unsure as to the right answer.

  ‘No, of course—’ Geoffrey was immediately interrupted.

  ‘Howard’s always right,’ Howard boomed.

  ‘Shut up, Howard,’ chorused Arjun and Geoffrey.

  Grandad laughed.

  ‘No, I mean, maybe Howard is a little right,’ I continued. ‘Dating might be good for you, Grandad, a chance to meet someone new, a distraction from . . . things.’

  ‘I don’t need distractions,’ Grandad said, the expression on his face indulgent but not budging.

  ‘No, no of course you don’t,’ I said, immediately realising the absurdity of what I had even suggested.

  Howard, however, had no such awareness. ‘But it would be great fun. There are so many ways to meet women now,’ he went on. ‘There’s Facebook and Happen, Tinder and Match-dot-com.’

  ‘No, no, I couldn’t,’ Grandad said, shaking his head slowly.

  ‘Of course you can,’ Howard scoffed.

  ‘I suppose there couldn’t be any real harm in making new connections, other friends,’ Arjun joined in, readjusting his tortoiseshell glasses.

  ‘Special friends,’ Howard added, practically winking.

  ‘You don’t understand. Geoffrey understands, don’t you, Geoffrey?’ Grandad turned to look at his friend, the light shining on Geoffrey’s head as he shifted in his seat. He wasn’t keen on the spotlight; that was more Howard’s forte. I hadn’t known Geoffrey’s wife – she had been a seamstress, had died years ago – but I knew they had been childhood sweethearts and he had never remarried.

  ‘I do. When you’ve been married as long as we both were, and to your best friend’ – I felt a lump form in my throat as Geoffrey stumbled over these words – ‘well, you just . . . lose interest,’ he said, palms up in appeal.

  I bit my lip.

  Grandad was nodding. ‘There’ll never be another one like her.’

  I had definitely been wrong to even think Howard might have a point. I had just
wanted Grandad to have some excitement, to remember life wasn’t over just because Grandma was no longer here. Or was there a secret part of me that didn’t want to feel I had to watch him all the time? I swallowed down the feeling that I might have wanted Howard to be right for all the wrong reasons.

  Howard had the good grace not to snort too loudly after Geoffrey’s words. ‘Cora was a fine woman, Teddy, and we’re not saying you will meet another one like her, but . . . you might meet a younger one at the very least.’

  The howls started up again and I started laughing too at Grandad’s horrified face before we were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.

  ‘Mail-order bride?’ Howard laughed. ‘That was quick. Tell them he’ll be along just as soon as he begs me to borrow a blue pill.’

  ‘Howard!’

  ‘That is horrifying.’

  ‘Straight red card.’

  Rolling my eyes, pleased to hear the others berating him, I moved out into the hallway, seeing a tall silhouette beyond the wavy glass of the front door. Checking the latch was on I tentatively pulled it open, then fumbled to open it when I saw Luke standing on the doorstep. He had flushed cheeks and a beanie hat pulled down low, an unseasonably cold wind making him rub his hands together.

  ‘Hey,’ I said, opening the door wide, then feeling a wave of panic. ‘What are you doing here? Is everything OK? Has the flat burnt down?’

  Luke put his hands on my shoulders. ‘Woah, breathe, Lottie, breathe. All is well. I just wanted to see you.’

  I took a step back, one hand on my chest. ‘Oh, oh, that’s good. Come in.’

  ‘Ask her if she can cook.’ Howard’s voice floated down the hallway to us.

  Luke turned to me, his eyebrow raised in a question.

  ‘Don’t ask,’ I said, pushing him along the corridor and into the living room.

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ he grinned, pulling off his hat.

  ‘Ah, Luke!’ Grandad’s face broke into a grin as he stood up. There was a lot of handshaking and hellos. Luke knew the golfing lads almost as well as I did. I could tell from their admiring glances that they were pleased to see him.

  ‘Want to join us, Luke? This gin has got camomile flowers in it!’ Arjun said, waving a bottle at him.

  Luke wrinkled his nose. ‘How disgusting.’ He turned to me. ‘I was actually here to see you. I thought we could grab a drink?’

  ‘A romantic evening planned, eh, Luke? Well, Lottie has certainly dressed for the occasion,’ Howard said, looking at my threadbare slippers and baggy jumper.

  ‘Hey!’ I reached out and threw another pretzel at him.

  ‘Assault!’ Howard cried, as the other men hushed him.

  ‘She’s just going for relaxed chic,’ Luke chipped in. ‘It’s a regular look,’ he added.

  Although I knew he was teasing me I couldn’t help feeling a little offended. I dressed up. Sometimes. I suppose I was often dressed up for work or work-related functions and the moment I was back in the flat I was straight into leggings and large tops. And anyway I didn’t have to dress to impress him. If he didn’t like me as I was then he could damn well—

  ‘You all right there, Lottie? You don’t look so well,’ Arjun asked, staring at my clenched fists and pursed lips.

  Luke turned, concern etched on his features. ‘Are you not feeling well?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I mumbled. ‘I’ll go and change,’ I added, trying to disguise the emotion in my voice.

  ‘No need,’ Luke said. I bit down an abrupt reply. I could feel the familiar stirrings of an argument move within me and if it hadn’t been for our audience . . .

  ‘And where are you fine young people headed?’ Geoffrey asked.

  Luke shrugged. ‘I was, er, thinking of the pub on the corner,’ he said, a note of apology in his voice.

  Arjun and Geoffrey exchanged a look.

  Howard didn’t even pretend to hold back. ‘God, it’s not like in our day where we had to court these ladies, woo them,’ he said, somewhat wistfully. ‘You had to turn up with flowers’ – pointedly looking at Luke’s empty hands – ‘and take them out for fine dining, treat them well.’

  Grandad was chuckling into his glass, shaking his head from side to side. ‘Leave him alone, Howard.’

  I looked at Luke’s crestfallen face, pushing the negative thoughts away as I saw that he seemed genuinely flummoxed. ‘Howard – it’s not like that any more,’ I said, tucking my arm into Luke’s. ‘It’s simpler. We own a flat together, for a start. I am way past being wooed.’

  ‘A lady should always be wooed,’ Howard said dramatically. Arjun and Geoffrey inclined their heads a fraction.

  ‘I’ll leave wooing to the professionals.’ Luke laughed, putting his arm over my shoulders and squeezing me towards him.

  ‘Leave them alone, Howard,’ Grandad called, standing up and moving around the table to clap a hand on Luke’s shoulder. ‘Luke always treats my Lottie well.’

  ‘The old ways are still the best ways,’ Howard said, returning to his seat and picking up his cards. He flipped over the Queen of Hearts and grinned, holding it aloft. ‘If you get Teddy here on the modern dating scene, the least you two could do is try dating in the old-fashioned way.’

  Arjun nodded. ‘Absolutely. Who doesn’t want to be wooed?’

  ‘Courting,’ Geoffrey added in a soft voice. ‘How romantic.’

  Grandad turned to Howard. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, if you’re going to consider putting yourself out there, the least you can ask in return is for your granddaughter to try our ways,’ Howard said, raising his glass.

  There was a pause. I was distracted, about to move into the hallway for my coat. ‘So if I agree to this dating idea’ – Grandad gestured to the desktop computer in the corner of the room – ‘this modern stuff . . . Lottie and Luke would have to try dating our way, the old-fashioned way?’

  He turned and looked straight at me, an expression I hadn’t seen before making his eyes sparkle.

  I stopped thinking about getting my coat. ‘Grandad . . . ’ I gave him a perplexed expression.

  ‘If you agree, Lottie, I’ll do it.’

  ‘No, don’t worry, it was all a bit of a joke. You were right. Howard was being silly.’ What was Grandad saying? Did he want an excuse to get back out and meet people? What did he want me to agree to in return?

  ‘Um, what’s going on?’ Luke interjected.

  ‘I think,’ I said slowly, unable to believe the one-eighty Grandad had done in a few short minutes, ‘if Grandad agrees to test the water on the modern dating scene, we’d have to . . . ’

  Howard twisted in his chair to look at us both. ‘You,’ he said, a delighted smile splitting his face, ‘would have to court each other the old-fashioned way.’

  Luke’s mouth gaped. I imagine he wished we had both left for the pub already.

  ‘We could help,’ Geoffrey said, half to himself.

  ‘I could teach them how to waltz,’ Arjun added, pushing his glasses up his nose and looking eager.

  Howard joined in. ‘They could join a boules club.’

  ‘Or go tandem bike riding,’ Grandad added.

  ‘Yes, yes, exactly that,’ Howard said, slapping his cards down, gin rummy forgotten. ‘You would both have to try something different, an old-fashioned date, every time Teddy here tries something new. Is it a deal?’

  I put both hands up in the air. ‘No, we’re not going to spend our days hanging out in social clubs so you can all have a good laugh at our expense.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be like that,’ Howard insisted.

  Luke was laughing now.

  ‘It would be fun,’ Arjun chipped in.

  ‘But Grandad didn’t even want to, did you?’ I said, turning to him, his expression alight: energised. He ignored me. Frowning, I looked at Geoffrey, normally the most sensible member of the group. ‘You don’t really think this is a good idea?’

  He wavered, not saying anything as Howard went over
to the upright piano and started shouting things. ‘Music halls, a night at the opera . . . ballroom dancing, none of this twerking . . . ’

  ‘They could try . . . ’

  ‘Oh how about . . . ’

  ‘Do you remember when . . . ’

  The piano notes filled the living room and I couldn’t hear the specifics. Only Grandma had played the piano, I realised. I shot another look at Grandad to see if he had noticed, expecting his shoulders to sag at the sound: a reminder of her. But he hadn’t even registered it. He was too busy scribbling ideas down on to the piece of paper they were using to score with, Arjun pointing over his shoulder to add something else to the list. I hadn’t seen Grandad with this much energy in weeks. He seemed to be fired up again with his old passion.

  ‘Any other ideas? Is Bingo romantic?’

  ‘Not if you lose.’

  ‘The lighting can be very harsh in those halls.’

  ‘Honestly, we really don’t have the time,’ I tried to cut in at the same moment as Luke stepped forward, both hands out to silence them all.

  There was a general hush, Howard’s hands hovering over the keys.

  ‘I’m not sure what’s going on,’ Luke said slowly, the four men tilting their faces towards us, ‘but of course we’d think about it if it would help, wouldn’t we, Lottie?’

  ‘Well . . . I don’t know . . . really, it’s . . . ’

  ‘Oh a horse and carriage, great idea!’ Grandad slapped Geoffrey’s arm, beaming at him.

  None of them heard me.

  Chapter 8

  Love is messy

  IRIS, 91

  What had just happened? We were ushered out of the house already armed with a list of ideas, leaving Grandad working on his profile for internet dating. As I was putting on my coat I could hear Howard and Arjun rating photos of him they were scrolling through.

  ‘This one says, “Ladies, I’m available, single and ready to mingle . . . ”’

  ‘That was from that line-dancing evening, Howard.’

  ‘This one is a bit edgier, older Cary Grant, although it would help if you purchased a motorcycle.’