Chapter Eighteen Dinner for Two
‘I’ll say one thing for him,’ remarks Patty as I’m getting ready to go for an early doors supper with David. ‘He’s not slow on the invitations. How quickly did he call you after that tea shop date?’
‘Within forty-eight hours.’ I recall how relieved I was when he actually did.
‘And he’s going to cook for you?’ Patty continues.
‘That’s what he tells me.’
‘Is he good at proper cooking? You know, all that kneading and grinding stuff,’ asks Patty.
‘Patty.’ I give her one of my looks. ‘Stop it right now.’
‘I was just thinking that I hope he turns those hands to more pleasurable pursuits before long.’ She winks. ‘If you know what I mean.’
‘An alien who had never met an earthling would know what you mean. You’re not exactly subtle.’
‘As some of the Geordie crew members on the last cruise used to say, “Shy bairns get nowt.”I loved that expression; it could actually be my motto,’ says Patty.
‘I’m going to get you a T-shirt with it printed on.’ I give myself a final spray of perfume and usher her out of my room.
‘Do you think it might go anywhere?’ Patty continues as we walk downstairs.
‘I’ve met him once,’ I remind her. ‘He was nice company and he got in touch quickly, so we’ll see. I’ll give you a full report tonight.’
With that, I give her a little wave and head out to my car.
David has given me an address in Cheshire and as I drive out of Manchester, the houses become more spacious. I’ll be sticking to my one small glass of wine with whatever he has cooked and am happy about that — I don’t want to rush any potential relationship ever again. Patty would call this a fairly chaste courtship (if that’s what it is) but I’m not her. I probably would have been concerned about this if I hadn’t read the wise words of Richard Branson. My guru has advised me well on business matters this past year and I wasn’t sure whether he’d have anything to say on relationships but his blog does offer a little insight. He’s been with the same woman for forty-odd years, and recounts how it was love at first sight for him but that his wife wasn’t that keen initially. He persisted and little by little won her over. Richard said that relationships aren’t about the fireworks but the ongoing friendship and respect people have for each other. He advised being the best version of yourself to lift up your partner and this is what I’m trying to do. I figure that if David and I can become easy in each other’s company and with each other’s friends and family, then the romance will follow. That’s the theory anyway.
David takes my coat and leads the way into the kitchen; it is large and open plan with bi-fold doors that open out onto his garden. He’s not a gardener, so the space is laid to lawn with a small patio area bearing covered-up garden furniture at the end where it will catch the evening sun. It looks a lovely spot and I can’t help but wonder whether I’ll be coming here long enough to enjoy a glass of wine while embracing the final warm rays of a sunset. I’ll have to have progressed to staying over by then.
‘I thought we’d try a full-bodied Zut Alors, La Plume de Ma Tante,’ David says to me, taking a bottle of wine from the rack. Or at least that’s what it sounded like to me. I didn’t actually recognise the name David reeled off rapidly so can’t even begin to tell you —I smile as if I have a clue what he means. It’s not important anyway as he’s opened the oven door and this whole room smells instantly delicious.
‘I’ve made a bourguignon,’ he says, opening a casserole dish and taking out a spoonful which he lays to one side to let cool before putting the rest of the dish back in the oven and turning the heat down. ‘And I hope you don’t mind but I’ve invited over a friend and his wife — they’re golf buddies and dying to meet you.’
I’m not sure how I feel about this as I thought it was supposed to be a first date, but maybe he’s nervous too. Anyway, I’m quickly distracted as he blows on the spoon then holds it out towards me; I take a tiny piece of beef and my eyes roll in delight.
‘Gorgeous,’ I tell him honestly. ‘The meat is so tender — just wonderful.’
I’ve lived with Patty for so long that I know I won’t be able to go back and tell her his meat was tender without getting the most obscene roar of laughter in response. I must be picturing the scene as David asks why I’m smiling to myself. I reply that I’m simply looking forward to the evening, and indeed I am.
His friends are very amiable and chatty. They’re both golfers but when they discover that I’m not, they veer the conversation away from birdies, eagles and albatrosses onto holidays and travel. It’s just as well as I’d started to think I was at an ornithologist convention.
‘I could organise trips to the very best courses in the world,’ I tell them, trying to combine our great loves. ‘And if there are a few people then I’ll get better rates than you’d find yourself.’
‘That’s not a bad idea,’ says David. ‘If Angie can find us a deal, surely we can muster enough interest in heading to the sun to tee off.’
‘And I’d find a resort where there’s enough to do for non-golfing partners,’ I add.
There’s interest and my dinner companions agree to try and get a group together. David pulls a cheesecake out of the fridge which he tells us was baked by Sarah, and despite feeling very full, I take a small slither.
The conversation between the men moves onto other forms of sport and when David takes his friend out to the utility room, his friend’s wife simply shakes her head in amusement.
‘I always think it’s useful that they have something to keep them occupied,’ she says to me. ‘Nothing worse than a man who hangs around the house needing you to keep them entertained.’
I say that I agree but thoughts flick back to my ex-husband, who was often out of my hair and certainly didn’t need me to keep him entertained. I thought he was out with his friends from the local chamber of commerce and I suppose he was — well, one particular female friend anyway. But that’s long over and I’ve achieved so much in the time since our separation and divorce.
‘Why don’t you come to the golf club one day?’ she says. ‘We have a ladies-only morning and, if you like, I could give you a lesson. It’s a good social scene and you might even be an undiscovered Jin Young Ko.’
She laughs and then seeing my blank expression explains that this person is the women’s world champion. I tell her that I doubt it very much as I have no hand–eye co-ordination but that I’ll think about it.
The men come back in and I tell David that I have to be going but I hope to see him at Patty’s gig.
‘Angie’s friend has a tribute band; she’s playing this week,’ he tells them.
I dread them all saying that they’ll come along, but happily they sigh their regret as they’re off to the theatre.
* * *
When I get home, Patty is still up, sitting on the sofa with a glass of wine on the coffee table and her tablet lying beside her.
‘Been videoing Jack?’ I ask and she nods.
‘But he had to cut the call short. One of the kitchen assistants got a bit too enthusiastic with the shredder. It was supposed to be plain coleslaw but now they’ve had to tell the guests it’s beetroot.’
She watches my expression as I move from being horrified at what I’ve just heard to realising that she’s joking.
‘Honestly, Angie,’ she says. ‘I do believe I could tell you absolutely anything and you’d believe it.’
She gets up, heads into the kitchen and returns with another glass. She pours us both a small measure and we take up our positions — her outstretched on the sofa and me in the big armchair with my knees tucked under. If things don’t work out with Jack and David we already have our old married couple positions sorted.
Patty asks me how the evening went and I tell her honestly that it was a nice night with good food and friendly banter.
‘Do you think it’ll progress beyond that?’ she asks. ‘Or do you even want it to?’
It’s a question I ask myself privately all the time, not just about David but any man. I sometimes think I’ve forgotten how to have sex. I wouldn’t tell Patty this and now I simply reply that I don’t know but I’m happy to let this relationship run its natural course.
After finishing the wine, Patty gets up and stretches.
‘Time for my beauty sleep,’ she says. ‘A big week coming up — the Granny-Okies comeback gig.’
‘There should really have been an announcement on the news,’ I reply.
‘Talking of which,’ says Patty, ‘there was an item on the news that you’ll be really interested in.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Apparently, the compilers of the most recent Oxford English Dictionary have been adding all these new words like hashtag, but they were so preoccupied with that, they actually forgot to include the word gullible.’
‘Oh, ha-ha,’ I reply. ‘As if I’m going to fall for that one.’
‘Suit yourself.’
Patty heads up to bed. I fell for this trick when I was a teenager as I’ve always been easily taken in. However, despite knowing that it’s a joke I cannot resist the urge just to check, so as silently as possible I pull the dictionary off the bookshelf.
‘I can hear you,’ yells Patty, making me jump and drop the damn thing. ‘While you’re there look up the word nincompoop.’