Chapter 16
It was after work on Tuesday and, somewhat under duress, Paolo was out in Beauly, on a date. Holly and Chloe had threatened to steal his phone and begin swiping right on every other profile if he didn’t get out and keep trying and, not wanting to whinge, he had agreed to arranging some meetups.
At least a visit to the town wasn’t a hardship. Worst case scenario, he could visit the bookshop, the treasure trove antique sellers, and the traditional outfitters — Donaldsons, before they closed. Donaldson’s kept its clothes in neat wooden drawers and dressers, and on arrival you were attended to by staff in tailored tweed and tartan outfits. It was like stepping back in time, and Paolo, who occasionally thought he had been born in the wrong era, relished a chance to soak up the atmosphere there.
Paolo had chosen his favourite bar as the venue, inside the small hotel. While it didn’t have a beer garden, it made up for it by being furnished with shabby old red leather stools, and mismatched chairs. It also had one of Paolo’s favourite lagers on tap. If you couldn’t guarantee the quality of the date, you could at least get a decent pint in.
Rhuari was pretty good looking, but over the first drink he had told Paolo how he spent most of his money on football memorabilia. There was nothing wrong with that, not really, only Paolo wasn’t sure how to reply.
‘So where is it you’re from? Aberdeen? There’s a play on at the theatre there that’s meant to be amazing. Do you ever go there?’ Paolo ventured into territory he knew better.
‘Och, no. Not my thing. I go to the cinema once in a while though. Love a blockbuster. Have you seen the one that came out last month?’ Rhuari detailed the latest in a long-running series of action films.
Paolo had in fact endured it with Chloe and Holly. They had dragged him along to one of their film nights and had teased him mercilessly for not knowing any of the characters.
Paolo much preferred foreign arthouse cinema, films that really made you think and often made you cry. ‘I recently saw that French one, which won the BAFTA.’
Rhuari shook his head. ‘I cannae speak French.’
That’s why there are subtitles , Paolo thought. He’d never understood that argument about foreign films.
‘I actually speak Italian,’ said Paolo trying again. ‘My grandparents came over from a tiny village in Tuscany in the 1950s. They set up a restaurant here and my mum runs it now, with one of my sisters.’
‘I’ve never been to Italy,’ Rhuari said. ‘Me and the wife like to go to Spain though. The in-laws have a villa down near Alicante and . . .’
‘I’m sorry,’ Paolo interrupted him at that. ‘Your wife?’
‘Oh, gosh. I thought you . . .’ Rhuari glanced around the room, looking anywhere other than Paolo’s face.
Paolo leaned over. ‘You’re married?’
Rhuari looked a little pale, and shifted in his seat. He was still facing Paolo, but refusing to look directly at him.
When he didn’t respond, Paolo hissed, ‘I thought you were looking to meet someone. That’s what you said in your DMs. But a bit on the side? Am I supposed to be some dirty little secret?’
Rhuari concentrated on his beer mat. ‘Actually, my wife knows I’m here. It’s more that . . .’ He hesitated, and after a noticeable, nervy bob of his Adam’s apple, he added: ‘We’re looking for someone to be a throuple with. I thought I mentioned that . . .’
He tailed off again, and looked longingly at the exit. Paolo was stunned. Rhuari had definitely omitted that particular detail in their exchanges. He never would have agreed to meet if he’d known. A throuple might work for some, but he just wanted to be in a committed relationship with one person, thank you very much. Unless, in his haste to get Holly and Chloe off his back, he had skim read the messages and not noticed Rhuari’s predilections.
‘Thanks for the invitation,’ said Paolo. ‘But I’m afraid that’s not really what I was here for. Perhaps we should go our separate ways.’
He gathered his jacket up from the bench, and — for dignity’s sake — walked out into the evening sunshine.
Pulling out his sunglasses, he decided to head straight to Donaldsons — a spot of retail therapy might erase the thoughts of what else Rhuari might have been going to suggest from his mind.
Walking along the pavement, Paolo comforted himself with the knowledge that even though the date wasn’t a success, it had at least been anecdotal. This system of categorizing his dates had served him well recently, stopping him from getting too depressed Some of his misadventures had left Chloe and Holly in stitches when he was recounting them over a coffee before the surgery opened. That had to count for something.
He stopped in his tracks. Over the other side of the road he spied a figure with a familiar gait. Hamish. He was about to call over when he realized that Hamish had wandered over to someone else, a man Paolo had never seen before. His stomach sank as he watched Hamish peck the man on the cheek.
Paolo leapt into the doorway of a nearby grocers as the pair crossed the road towards him. He wasn’t sure he wanted Hamish to see him. The pair of them were heading for the bookshop. Lifting the glasses and squinting, Paolo couldn’t help but notice that the stranger was gorgeous, smartly dressed in dark jeans and a shirt. To only deepen his horror, Paolo realized that Hamish was out of his usual khaki hues. He had made an effort for this man!
Paolo peered out from his hiding spot, only emerging when he was certain that Hamish and the man had gone into the bookshop. He stepped out feeling unnerved and slightly shaky.
So that was why Hamish didn’t seem into him any more. Paolo had been barking up the wrong tree when he had been fretting about Skye. Hamish had found somebody else. Paolo turned on his heel and took a very circuitous route back to his car to avoid both being seen, and having to see them again.
Ten minutes later, back at the car, Paolo rested his head on the steering wheel. The wind had been knocked out of his sails properly. If he really were a boat, he would simply drift away, never to be seen again.
A vibrating in his pocket awoke him from his state of woe. Holly.
He really didn’t want to tell her how the date had gone, but he picked up anyway. ‘Hols?’
‘Paolo? I hope your date’s going well.’ Paolo was about to reply but Holly continued. ‘A rider came off their horse out towards Lowburn Farm. They’re fine, but the horse isn’t and I need an extra pair of hands. Can you bear to come back?’
‘Sure,’ said Paolo, grateful to have something else to focus on. ‘I’ll be there in about half an hour.’