Chapter 10
TEN
The Day of Dates turns out to be what you could only describe as a mixed bag.
The drive to Lyme passed without incident, and because we were early I got to take Zack on a little walking tour of the town’s higgledy-piggledy old streets and pretty gardens. It’s a bit of a showstopper, is Lyme – perched around a glorious bay, lined with pastel-coloured beach huts, a thriving and bustling little place packed with cafés and shops lining the promenade. It’s a sunny day, the sea sparkling blue, the sky streaked with circling gulls. It’s not yet the main tourist season, but there are already plenty of visitors.
We walked Bear down on the beach, and Zack said it was all exactly how he remembered from his childhood. He has vivid memories of eating fish and chips from newspaper wrappings, and going crabbing with his grandad. I could tell he was feeling wistful, in a way that seems to get more frequent with age – when you realise that you have less time ahead of you than you have behind you. It’s all the circle of life, of course, but it’s still a bit weird when you feel your circle start to shrink.
We parted ways just before my first coffee date, and now we’re back where we started – in the car park by the harbour. I wave as I see him, and Bear snuffles at me affectionately when we’re reunited. Zack unlocks the car, saying: “So? How did it go? The suspense has been killing me!”
“Well,” I reply, as we drive out of town and head back to Starshine, “I didn’t need my emergency whistle – but I don’t think I’ve met the love of my life either. Do you fancy calling off for a drink before we get back to base? I feel a bit hyper and wouldn’t mind decompressing. Downside of being of a close-knit community – they’ll all be waiting for me to get back so they can quiz me, and I’m not sure what I even think myself yet!”
“Absolutely. I’m your slave for the day – just give me directions.”
I take us to a little place near the coast in Charmouth, and send George a quick text message saying I am safe and well before we go inside. Fingers crossed it lands.
The pub is quiet, and we bag a window seat with killer views out across the sea. Bear finds a stray crisp under the table, staying true to his proud retriever heritage. Zack gets us some drinks, and when he settles back down he says: “Okay. Spill.”
“Right. Well, I met the first guy in the coffee shop where you left me. That was Eric. I’d quite liked the look of Eric – plus his name. It’s a bit Viking, isn’t it, Eric?”
“Not as Viking as Bjorn Bloodaxe, but definitely more Viking than Clive. Is Eric the one who was a retired fireman, now living in Devon? The one who posted pictures of his artwork?”
“Yeah. I thought that was a pretty good combo – a fireman for the hunky factor, and an artist to appeal to my sensitive side. He looked just like his photos, too. But the problem was his wife.”
“His wife? He’s married ?”
“Technically no – he’s divorced. But he talked about his ex literally all the time. He ranged between furious and on the verge of tears whenever he mentioned her. I felt more like a counsellor than someone he was on a date with, and at the end he wanted to take a selfie of the two of us together. I thought it was harmless enough until I realised he only wanted it to make the ex jealous, and I wasn’t up for that at all.”
Zack makes a little whistling noise, raises his eyebrows, and says: “Wow. That’s not great. I assume you didn’t arrange to see him again?”
“No way! And it kind of made me glad that he doesn’t know my full name or have my actual phone number. Poor Eric – he has a broken heart. I suspect it might be terminal.”
“Poor Eric indeed. Well, what about the second one – you went for lunch, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. I was still a bit freaked out by the first date to be honest, and I was worried Eric might follow me and see me with someone else. I mean, I know that’s stupid – I was completely honest with him. Plus I wasn’t his ex-wife so therefore he wasn’t really invested – but it still felt odd. Like I was sneaking around. Anyway – date number two was Laurence. Laurence with a ‘u’. He was… better.”
“That wouldn’t be hard. What was his deal?”
“He’s also divorced, but amicably and apparently without regret. Three kids and two grandchildren. He confessed that he’d lied on his profile, and said he was fifty-nine when he’s actually sixty. He thought that made him sound much older – and as he confessed it straight away, I forgave him. He said it was a bit like shopkeepers making something ninety-nine pence instead of a pound – a psychological advantage!”
“He sounds like he has a sense of humour at least.”
“He did. He’s a GP as well, which is always handy. We had a nice time together.”
Zack looks at me over his pint, and says: “I feel like there’s a ‘but’ coming.”
I sigh, and lean back in my seat.
“I feel like an absolute cow for saying this, Zack, but I just didn’t fancy him! I hate myself for even thinking like that – it’s not as though I’m a teenager is it? I’m old enough and ugly enough to know that there are far more important things in life than fancying someone. Laurence was lovely – he was funny and open, a good conversationalist, an interesting guy. But there was just no spark. I could imagine being friends with him, but I felt nothing beyond that. It’s so stupid!”
“No it’s not – why are you beating yourself up about it? You’re in your fifties, you’re not dead. Of course you need a spark. It doesn’t even have to be a big one – just enough that you think it might kindle a fire at some point down the line. But if you literally felt nothing at all for him, then it probably wouldn’t be fair to him to get his hopes up anyway.”
“I know. We left it that we’d stay in touch. I’ll message him and explain, but possibly say it a bit more diplomatically than ‘soz, I don’t want to snog you.’ And I’m not assuming he’s into me either, I’m not that arrogant – he might also just be happy to have a new pal.”
Zack nods, and remains silent for a moment. He has the look on his face that I already recognise as signifying him having more to say on the subject.
“What?” I ask. “Out with it!”
“You might not like it.”
“Since when has that stopped you? It’s your bloody fault I’m here anyway – you’re the one who convinced me it was a good idea to start dating again!”
I’m smiling as I say this to take the sting out of it. Even though it is true.
“Okay – well, do you think that maybe you’re being extra fussy because deep down, you don’t want to meet anyone?”
“This from the man who dumped a woman for not knowing about Tiswas ?”
“Fair point, well made. But that’s what I mean. The women I’ve dated – I’ve known they weren’t right from the start. Yes, they were attractive, and yes, I’m a man so I noticed that – but I knew none of those relationships were going anywhere long-term. You say you don’t fancy Laurence, but is it possible that you’ve just… I don’t know, switched off from that side of life? Is it possible you wouldn’t fancy anyone?”
I gulp down some G there is no sign of deception, no indication that he has been playing with me. He really does just want to put Starshine on screen for us, and us only. I’m delighted – not only that I won’t have to physically kick him out of the village, but that he hasn’t betrayed me at all. That I was right to trust my judgement.
“Maybe,” I say, starting to turn the idea over in my mind, “we could have a premiere. We could have a red carpet, and paparazzi, and Champagne. We could invite celebs.”
“Like who?” he asks, sounding amused now.
“Like Jolly Ged and the Funky Farmhands. They do a comedy strip routine that involves a lot of vegetable-based innuendo. They’re going down a storm, and they’ve even got their own calendar out where they look muscular on tractors, and ride horses with their tops off.”
“I see. Well, I suppose they would be celebs then. And yes, you could do all of that – just promise me you’ll invite me down for the screening, all right? If you like the idea then I’ll get the rest of the footage while I’m here, and I can do the editing when I’m back in London with all my equipment. I’ll definitely come back down for the premiere, though.”
I smile, but I am sad at the thought of him leaving, I realise. Not just because of the crush thing, but because it’s actually been nice having someone to hang around with like this. Apart from my father-in-law, George, pretty much everyone else in Starshine is part of a couple – which is lovely. I have in fact been instrumental in forming some of those couples, and I am never made to feel like an outsider. I know I am loved, I know that I’m never the third wheel – but I’m only human, and sometimes I feel like I am. While Zack’s been here, that feeling has faded. If nothing else, I’ve had a pal.
“You’re quiet,” he says. “I find that unnerving. Are you planning your outfit for the red carpet?”
“Ha! Well, maybe there’ll be some actual carpet left over, and I could just wear that – glamour isn’t exactly my thing these days!”
“Well, glamour is vastly over-rated. Besides, you looked really nice that first night in London.” I raise my eyebrow at him and he hastily adds: “And, of course, every day ever since then…”
“Don’t worry,” I reply, grinning. “I’m just messing with you. I can scrub up okay, but I prefer the day-to-day me. I know it’s not your type of glamour, but it’ll do for me.”
I realise that I mean it, which is nice. It’s all very well feeling good about yourself when you’re dolled up for a night out or a date, but isn’t it even better to feel good about yourself all the time instead? Just like Dolly?
“You don’t really know what my type of glamour is,” he says. “Maybe I’m secretly really into… whatever it is you call this particular look.”
He gestures to my hot pink peasant blouse and my now tumbledown hair.
“I call it Beach Chic for Dating Days. My other looks include Dazzling Dungarees for Doing the Dishes, Bright Blues for Big Boobs, Knock-Out Knitwear and my personal favourite, Fun With Primary Colours. It’s what you might call a playful palette.”
“I like it. It works for you. Everyone in London wears black, all the time. It’s like some kind of style uniform. You always look great, no matter what you’re wearing – you still have that thing you had back when I first met you.”
“What thing?” I ask, frowning. I don’t see any similarities between me back then and me now. “That thing that made you think I might be up for a one-night stand or a quickie in the stationery cupboard?”
“I never said such a thing – though yeah, maybe I thought it at the time. But it was always more than that with you. You just have this energy. That light that seems to shine from the inside. That little bit of extra that makes you irresistible.”
“Irresistible, ha! That makes me sound like a cream cake!”
“It does, doesn’t it? I don’t know, I’m not expressing myself very well. I’m making it sound weird. You just have a quality about you, Connie, that makes people want to be around you. That draws people in. You had it then, and you still have it now.”
“Oh,” I reply, taken aback. “That… well, that’s very nice of you to say. Maybe I’ll pack in this café lark and become a cult leader instead.”
“If you do, you really have to let me make a TV show about that!”