Chapter Twenty-Six Eine Kleine Nachtmusik
‘Where are you going?’ asks Patty as I grab my coat and bag. ‘No, wait, let me guess — the golf course?’
‘’Fraid so,’ I tell her. ‘They want help setting up a fashion show like we did for Mum. I’m taking them through the finer points of detail and the likely revenues they’ll get.’
‘Don’t they have someone who can do all that?’
‘David does it now, but if he can show that he’s networking for the club, it improves his chances of becoming chairman,’ I tell her. ‘And before you say anything, that would be a good thing and I’m happy to support him.’
‘If you say so. But it does seem like you’ve become very keen on golf all of a sudden — why the transformation?’
I repeat that I’m just being supportive and that is most of the reason, but having accepted that Michael is no longer an option, I do know that I’m putting all my eggs in the David basket. Of course, I can’t tell Patty any of that.
‘Besides which,’ I say, ‘you’re focussed on getting ready for the cruise and you need me out of the way.’
‘I am ready,’ she replies. ‘I’ve decided you can’t really improve on perfection.’
I give a snort of laughter as I wave goodbye and tell her that’s very true. She’s perfect as she is.
When I walk into the golf course boardroom David gets up to greet me, giving me a peck on the cheek then directing me to sit beside him. Alongside the chairman is a woman I haven’t met before and she’s introduced as Kathryn, the events assistant. She shakes my hand firmly and without her even speaking a word, I can tell that the assistant title probably belittles her role in the club.
‘The lady of the hour,’ says David, looking at me with a big smile on his face. He pours me a glass of water then checks whether the chairman needs any, which he doesn’t.
Zoe has given me the profit and loss results for the evening she hosted and I present these, noting that Kathryn is the one to ask questions and make suggestions.
‘My daughter held this to raise funds for a charity, but I’m guessing that you could also raise funds for any repairs or refurbishment that’s needed,’ I tell her.
‘That’s what I was thinking,’ she says. ‘We’re going to need work on the greens in the coming year, so I thought about hosting this and maybe getting a sponsor to cover the costs.’
I agree that would work as I take her though the list of contacts we’ve built up. The chairman stands and says he’ll leave us to it, so I continue to work with Kathryn while David sees the chairman out.
‘I think it’s always useful to set a target for the fundraising,’ I tell Kathryn, ‘that way you can keep a tally and encourage more donations as you get close.’
She nods as she takes notes, then David re-enters the room and asks Kathryn if she can handle things from here. She says that she can and I give her my numbers, saying she can call any time.
David has a huge smile on his face, so I presume this is all building brownie points for him; he tells me that the ladies’ team president is delighted with the event, and as she’s the chairman’s sister-in-law that makes everyone happy.
‘I think we should celebrate,’ David suggests. ‘Shall we have a drink?’
‘Or,’ I counter, ‘as you’re going to be constantly disturbed by members if we stay here, why don’t we grab a taxi and head into town?’
When I see a wave of reluctance furrow his brows, I tease him about being joined at the hip to the golf club.
‘If it turns out to be necessary,’ I say with a smile, ‘my friend Patty knows a very good doctor and we might be able to persuade him to come ashore and surgically separate you from this place.’
David laughs and admits the golf club is his second home then gets out his phone and orders the cab.
When the car arrives, David opens the door for me and I slide into the seat while he goes around to the other side. The radio is playing a Cyndi Lauper classic that Patty always does in her sets and it makes me smile. I’m about to tell the driver that I love this song and the Absolute 80s station he’s tuned into when David gets in, closes his door and tuts.
‘How about something more relaxing?’ he says to the driver. ‘A bit of Classic FM, perhaps?’
He’s managed to say the word ‘perhaps’ in such a way that it sounds like ‘immediately’. I catch the driver giving me a glance but he does as he’s been asked and violins replace Ms Lauper.
‘“Time after Time” was far more relaxing than this,’ I say to David as the horn section starts up.
‘How on earth could anyone prefer that over Beethoven’s Sixth?’ he says with a smile before humming along and doing orchestra conductor moves with his hands. He takes hold of my hand and waves it in time with his so we’re both conducting it now and I laugh along with him.
‘You might like “November Rain” by Guns N’ Roses,’ I tell him. ‘That has a full orchestra backing.’
I am saying this with my tongue firmly in my cheek, but both the taxi driver and David look at me as if I’m insane and I have to confess to them that I was joking.
We arrive before the end of the symphony and as we’re climbing out of the car, the driver is already switching the radio back to the previous station. I quietly tell him that I don’t blame him and he gives me a wink.
‘I’ll have you enjoying eighties music one day,’ I tell David as we walk into the tapas restaurant that Patty and I love. I tell him that this place is a favourite of ours as the waiter directs us to our table.
‘It’s a bit dark, isn’t it?’ he says as we’re seated and left with the menus.
‘Cosy,’ I tell him. ‘Now, the wine we like is this Rioja.’ I point at the one that Patty and I usually choose. ‘Unless you prefer white?’
‘No, I like red but I’m not fond of Rioja — do they serve Montepulciano d’Abruzzo?’ he asks.
‘I’d have thought you’d be annoyed if they did,’ I say. ‘After all, it is a Spanish restaurant.’
‘I have Chenin Blanc with fish and chips,’ he replies, making a valid point. I myself prefer prosecco with my takeaway, but that’s not made in England either.
‘True,’ I say. ‘It just feels quite rude not to be choosing Spanish while we’re here.’
‘But there is an Italian wine on the menu, so it must compliment the food.’
As the waiter has arrived and is ready to take our drinks order, I don’t put up any more objections but let David order what he enjoys.
I’m horrified when he orders us a small-sized glass each.
‘As it’s only Wednesday and we’re both up early tomorrow for work,’ he says, probably noticing my mouth hanging open in shock.
It’s only seven o’clock and we’ll probably be home by ten, when I would usually ensure I drank several glasses of water and be perfectly okay in the morning. I say none of this but realise I have some serious behavioural training to do on this man. He’ll never be able to come out on a night with my friends if I can’t loosen him up a bit. That’s my challenge for the next few weeks.
‘What would you like to eat?’ he asks.
Patty and I usually share some tapas or the charcuterie board, but I don’t suggest this as I imagine David has already selected what he wants.
‘I’m going for the lamb skewer,’ he adds, confirming my thoughts. ‘Not keen on too many spices and that looks quite simple.’
I shouldn’t be disappointed because this isn’t like a Patty and me night out — after all, he’s not her, and just because my best friend has found her man doesn’t mean that I can go out and replace her with one of my own. I need to accept David for who he is and respect the fact that he is his own man. I order the monkfish.
‘Good choice,’ says David, clinking his glass against mine. ‘I almost chose that myself.’
Why do I feel as if I’ve passed an exam?
As we eat I can’t help contemplating all of the couples I know, most of whom have come together in the past year. Peter and Charlie seem smitten, Josie and Matt share a wicked sense of humour, Zoe and James are workaholics who like to relax at home, while Patty and Jack just sound as if they fancy the pants off each other. They aren’t identikit by any means; they just seem to share something. And I have to find the one thing we have in common — after all, many couples have different tastes in music.
‘We have the Vienna trip coming up soon,’ I say, fishing for that interest we might share. ‘You probably would have enjoyed that, waltzing to Strauss in the city where he was born.’
‘I probably would,’ he replies and I inwardly sigh with relief. ‘I’d love to see an orchestra play some of his music there; I think somehow musicians perform with greater emotional depth in their home city, if you know what I mean.’
‘I do,’ I say. ‘I always wanted to see A-ha in Oslo — I thought that would be great fun, but it never happened. Maybe I should look out for a reunion.’
David smiles at me and says it would be a long way to go to hear their one hit song.
‘So you do know your eighties hits,’ I leap to reply. ‘I knew you were hiding a misspent youth behind that sensible golfing exterior.’
‘Guilty,’ he says, holding his palms up.
I really hope that’s true so turn the conversation to our childhoods and teenage years. I tell him about backcombing my hair and nearly choking on the amount of hairspray I had to use to make my locks as huge as possible.
‘I remember girls doing that. Did you have the lacy gloves and big shoulder pads?’
‘Of course,’ I reply proudly. ‘Wouldn’t be seen dead without either. What about you? Were you a cuffed jeans and bomber jacket à la Ferris Bueller’s Day Off or rolled-up sleeves and Ray-Bans like Don Johnson in Miami Vice? I’m guessing the latter.’
‘Definitely more Don Johnson. I was always into my sport, so I think my wardrobe was mainly polo shirts in all sorts of colours with the obligatory sweater draped over my shoulders.’
‘Such a Sloane!’ I exclaim, laughing. ‘And did you have the bouffant hair?’
‘Oh yes. With the sunglasses pushed up on my head whether it was sunny or not.’
He tells me about realising that he was no good at either football or rugby from an early age and wanting to belong somewhere. He tried golf and finally found the sport that suited his temperament.
‘I like to think about things,’ he says. ‘I’m better when the challenge is about improving my own score rather than beating someone else.’
I contemplate that this attitude probably makes David more of an introvert than anyone else I know and that’s probably a good thing. Branson’s advice, to respect a partner for who they are, comes to mind as we’re heading home. The evening may have started with me doubting that we’d ever find anything we had in common but it’s ended up being a perfectly nice evening.
The cab pulls up at my house and I’m wondering whether to invite David in for coffee when he leans over, gives me a peck on the cheek and wishes me a good night’s sleep.
As I say, it was a perfectly nice evening.