Eleven
The morning was growing hotter and the sun beat down as Russell and Hanna sat in a queue of traffic. They had driven in silence for the last ten or fifteen minutes, partly because Russell wasn’t sure if Hanna had dozed off, or if she was simply ignoring him, and partly because he couldn’t think of the right thing to say after their earlier conversation. But now he had to say something.
‘Would you like me to pull over somewhere so that we can get that ice cream? It shouldn’t be much longer, once we get out of this traffic jam, but it’s already a scorcher. Shall I put the roof up and turn on the air conditioning?’
‘I don’t mind,’ she said, without turning to look at him. ‘I’m fine. But if you want the roof up, that’s also fine with me. And I can wait for the ice cream. Good things are worth waiting for, so I’ve heard.’ Now she did give him a brief smile, and relief surged through him.
‘I’m fine too. Erm. Have you been to Hastings before?’
‘Nope. I’ve heard of it, of course. Who hasn’t? The Battle in 1066. The arrow in King Harold’s eye. The Bayeux Tapestry. William the Conqueror, and all that. But no. I’ve never been there. Have you?’
‘No. It’ll be an adventure for both of us. I hear there’s a Crazy Golf course on the seafront.’ He grinned across at her. ‘And, of course, like Folkestone, the town is famous for its fishing fleet. There’re caves in the cliffs, where smugglers hid their goods in a maze of tunnels. There’re a couple of museums. And all the usual things a seaside town has to offer.’
‘Like deckchairs you trap your fingers in, and seagulls pooing on your head and nicking your chips, you mean?’
‘Yes. Exactly like that. Which is why we’ll eat at a restaurant.’
‘I’m glad you’re paying then.’
He threw her a smile. ‘Ah, at last. The traffic is moving again. Hastings, here we come.’
‘I bet that’s what William the Conqueror said,’ she joked. ‘Although I suppose he came by boat.’
‘And he didn’t land in Hastings. He landed a little farther along the coast, although from what I read on line, there’s some dispute as to the precise location. Plus, the battle wasn’t in Hastings either. It was at Senlac Hill, a few miles north of Hastings, and where the town of Battle is now situated.’
‘It must’ve been a tough life in those days. I bet they didn’t have ice cream either.’
‘No. It makes you wonder how they survived.’
Their banter seemed to be back on track and they chatted amiably for the rest of the journey to the Old Town of Hastings.
‘Is it actually called ‘the Old Town’ and is that because there’s a new town?’ Hanna asked as they neared their destination.
‘Yes. And there’s the sign to prove it. That coat of arms on the sign is the heraldic emblem of the Cinque Ports, and Hastings is one of the original towns. Since those first five towns of Hastings, Romney, Hythe, Dover, and Sandwich, were given the status, other towns, like Folkestone, have been added, as so called, limbs, of the originals.’
‘Why are there three golden lions, cut in half and attached to the sterns of three gold ships? Is that depicting the lions of England, and the ships providing service to the Crown?’
‘That’s exactly what it is.’
‘I’m not just a pretty face and a hugely talented artist,’ she joked. ‘I can also read stuff in books and on the internet.’
Russell laughed. ‘I knew that.’
He parked in the car park at a place called The Stade at one end of the Old Town and bought them both an ice cream as they wandered along the promenade. They strolled past the fun fair and the boating lake, until they reached the Crazy Golf course where Hanna challenged him to a game. Which she won.
From there they walked along George Street which was pedestrianised, and they popped in and out of a variety of shops until Hanna announced she was starving.
They found a restaurant that served fresh fish, and had a covered outside space, providing the best of both worlds. They were shaded from the glare of the sun but could still sit outside and watch the world go by.
After lunch they visited the art gallery Russell’s friend from uni had opened.
‘This is Emma,’ Russell said, introducing his friend to Hanna. ‘And Emma, this is Hanna, a good friend of mine from Betancourt Bay.’
Emma shrieked with delight and ran to Hanna and hugged her.
‘Oh God, I’m sorry, Hanna,’ Emma said, releasing Hanna as quickly as she had grabbed hold of her. ‘I didn’t mean to do that, but I couldn’t help myself. I’m a huge fan. And no. That isn’t how I usually greet famous artists. But when Russell said you were a friend, I sort of forgot myself in my excitement.’
‘Don’t worry about it, Emma. Any friend of Russell’s is a friend of mine. It’s lovely to meet you.’ Hanna glanced around at the stunning art hanging on the walls. ‘I’m impressed. This is the perfect space. I’d be happy to see my art here.’
‘Would you? Would you really?’ Emma beamed at Russell. ‘I know this isn’t the time to ask this, but do you mean that, Hanna? Would you consider allowing me to exhibit some of your paintings? Or even one would be fantastic.’
‘Yes. Of course.’
Russell was a little anxious. He had known Emma was a fan, of course, but he hadn’t considered that she might ask to exhibit Hanna’s paintings, although obviously, he should have. Fortunately, Hanna didn’t seem to mind. Or if she did, she was good at hiding her feelings.
‘I hope Emma didn’t put you on the spot,’ he said, as they left for home later that afternoon. ‘It didn’t occur to me that she might do that.’
‘It’s not a problem. Emma is lovely and the gallery is wonderful. I’m happy to do it. She’s going to give me a call next week to discuss it further.’
‘I’m glad you liked it. I must admit, it’s larger than I’d expected and she did have some fantastic artwork. None as good as yours, of course.’
‘Naturally,’ Hanna laughed. ‘That goes without saying.’ And then she swivelled in her seat and beamed at him. ‘It’s been a brilliant day, Russell. Thank you for asking me to join you.’
‘You’re very welcome,’ he said, as his heart thumped in his chest. ‘I’ve really enjoyed it too. Erm. I don’t suppose you’re free tomorrow, are you?’
She looked surprised, but then again, he was surprised he’d said it.
‘Tomorrow? Erm. Yes. I could be. What did you have in mind?’
He couldn’t tell her what was on his mind right now. He wanted to pull the car over, take her in his arms, and kiss her. But obviously, he couldn’t do that.
He coughed and furrowed his brows. ‘Lunch in Folkestone? We could wander around the market and then have a drink or two at The Lighthouse Champagne Bar, followed by lunch in a little Italian restaurant I know. The place might be small but the food is the best you’ll eat this side of Italy. I seem to remember from our conversation at Easter that you love Italian food.’
She raised her brows. ‘You remembered that?’
‘I love it too, so it wasn’t difficult. Does that sound good?’
‘It sounds perfect.’
‘Great! So that’s a date then.’
‘That’s a date,’ she said, and there was something in her tone that made him think it might be.
It was just as well he hadn’t mumbled that he hadn’t meant to say it was a date. He didn’t want to scare her off.
But she didn’t seem scared. In fact, if he didn’t know better, he might think she was as eager about this ‘date’ as he was.