Chapter 7
The temperature is standard February fodder (freezing) and I wrap a coat around me as I make my way out into the night. Joe’s chosen a pub not far from either of us for our first ‘proper’ date without the kids and first impressions are … surprising. The building looks unremarkable, borderline tatty. I push open the doors and spot Joe sat immediately ahead of me, one arm propped up against the bar, his long legs sprawled out in front of him. He’s wearing dark jeans, those vegan trainers everyone loves and a shirt that matches the exact colour of his eyes. He has a pencil in his hand and he looks like he’s doing homework.
‘What’s happening here?’ I ask. ‘Are you doing work by hand? Retro.’
Joe watches me, a small smile lighting up his face as he pulls out a stool.
‘Not bothering with any pleasantries today, Rogers?’
‘Too confused by this.’ I motion towards the pen and paper. ‘Have we stumbled into the nineteen eighties?’
Joe smoulders at me. ‘This is what we call a pencil. You use it to write down words. And right here I have paper, which is something we use to write on.’
I roll my eyes. ‘But why, Joe?’
‘I’m marking papers. I head up the English Literature department at the university.’
‘Hmm. Don’t you have computers for that sort of thing?’
Joe exhales loudly. ‘Yes, Sophie, we do. But I like to give myself a screen break from time to time. You look … wow, by the way.’
I’m momentarily flummoxed by this. Then I realise he’s doing the fake-dating thing.
‘Ah, getting straight in there with the date chat I see. Excellent, well done. You look “wow” too.’
‘Ha,’ he barks, pushing his hair off his face.
I go to shake his hand, he attempts a kiss on the cheek and we end up rubbing our faces together. At least he smells good. Musky.
‘This is going authentically well already. Beautiful woman turns up, date is stunned into silence,’ Joe says once we recover ourselves.
‘Oh sure, I bet you’ve used that one before.’ I perch on the stool.
‘Shots fired and you’ve not even taken your coat off.’ Joe eyes me. ‘Shall we start again? Sophie, hi, it’s good to see you. May I tell you, genuinely, that you look lovely tonight?’ With that he positively twinkles at me and maybe for the first time I understand exactly why the other mums go into overdrive in Joe’s presence. Obviously I have noticed the eyes and the hair and the gravitational pull of charm, but I don’t think I’ve put it all together properly before.
‘Joe, hi.’ I smile, looking him up and down. ‘I think we’ve both done a good job with getting the aesthetics right.’
‘Thanks for the compliment, I think?’ He laughs.
I look around the pub. ‘This place seems …’ I trail off as I reach for something to praise and come up short. Tired wallpaper peels off the walls. The black-and-gold carpet is stained with decades of drunken spillages. The green leather on my bar stool is scuffed and sagging. I resist the urge to run my finger along the bar and check for dust because I already know the outcome won’t be great. It’s a surprising choice for a fake first date, I must admit.
‘Like a dump?’ Joe offers cheerfully. ‘I love it. It’s one of the few places in this city that hasn’t been turned into a wanky gastropub or a glitzy wine bar.’
‘Does that mean you’re a real ale man, Joe? You like to come here on a Sunday with your pen and paper and grumble about the weather with your old man friends.’
‘Less of the old man, thanks. Anyway, they have an excellent selection of craft beers and Maggie makes a fresh batch of salted popcorn to serve as bar snacks.’
‘Maggie?’
‘The landlady.’
‘First-name terms?’
‘Of course,’ we both say at the same time.
I scan around again and note that the clientele is not what I’d expected. A group in their twenties look like they’ve just stepped out of an ad campaign for living your best life. Next to us, a stylish older couple are laughing over shared jokes.
On the bar is a wine list which I have a quick look through.
‘I jumped to conclusions,’ I admit. ‘I thought the extent of the wine list would be “red” or “white”.’
‘Shame on you. Maggie’s actually a huge advocate of English wines.’
‘Really?’ I say, my mind wandering to what I do best. I start thinking out loud. ‘You know, the pub has got a shabby chic feel to it. It could have huge potential. A bit of buzz on social media and—’
‘Don’t even think about it, Sophie,’ Joe interrupts. ‘This is my haven. I love it here because it flies under the radar. If all the cool kids in fishermen hats start coming then what will happen to my sanctuary?’
I snort. ‘What did the fisherman-hat trend ever do to you?’
‘You know what I mean,’ he says. ‘If it becomes “hip” then it won’t feel like a home away from home anymore.’
‘But—’
‘Please?’ he asks, looking like a puppy about to lose its favourite toy.
‘Fine. My lips are sealed. So, is this where you bring all your dates?’
‘I haven’t been on a date in about five years.’
I look at him as he tucks the pencil he’s holding behind his ear and holds my gaze.
‘Oh. I’d assumed you’d …’
‘Been chatting up half of Bristol? Is it fair to say, Sophie, that you might have misjudged me?’ He looks thrilled at this, he’s practically smirking. I fidget on my bar stool.
‘I’ve thought about dating,’ he continues, ‘but I haven’t actually got round to it. Too absorbed in parenting to have the headspace, I suppose.’
He pauses here and I decide some honesty of my own might make up for me assuming that Joe was a great big shagger. ‘I hear you,’ I say. ‘In my head, Lila was taking her first steps yesterday but in reality she’s now so big that she can ride a bike better than I can. The way time moves when you’re a parent is a total mind fuck.’
Joe holds up his pint in front of him. ‘To parenthood – a total mind fuck,’ he says and then takes a big swig.
I laugh.
‘So, to counter your assumptions, it’s only since Sid started school that I’ve wondered if I could carve out some time for all this dating you think I’m already doing.’
I scrunch my face up in an apology.
‘You’ve got to admit that it fits though, right? Always surrounded by women. Irish charm on full blast. And now I find out you’re an English Literature professor to boot? I bet you just love talking about big Shakespearean love and, I don’t know, prose.’
‘Hoh, okay.’ Joe lets out a low rumbling laugh. ‘You’ve really got me in a pigeon hole, haven’t you? All right, my turn. I bet you’re all about the non-fiction? There is a whole stack of business books at your place, right? I’m thinking a well-thumbed copy of Richard Branson’s autobiography on your bedside table.’
Damn it, he’s right! But I refuse to be beaten.
‘I don’t actually have a bedside table so you lose.’
Joe narrows his eyes at me in glee. ‘Not denying the Branson autobiography, I see. And there will be books stuffed with business buzzwords,’ continues Joe, warming to his theme. ‘Like “let’s take this offline” or “circle back”.’
‘Are you quite finished?’ I fold my arms.
Joe gives me a side glance, thoroughly enjoying himself.
Hoo boy, tonight’s going to be a long night.
Maggie encourages me to try a glass of Bacchus from Kent and brings us a bowl of still-warm popcorn. Joe and I move over to a corner table where we attempt less spiky conversational territory, that is the plausibility of the latest Paw Patrol movie.
‘Here,’ I say, pulling two pieces of paper out of my clutch bag.
‘What’s this?’
‘I took the liberty of typing up a questionnaire for us each to fill in as an easy way to get to know each other. Date of birth, siblings, schools we went to, favourite foods. You know, all the essentials?’
‘Nothing says romance more than a Word document, Sophie.’
‘Given that you read books for a living, shall we put you in charge of working out all the sweet bits we’ll need to flesh out our love story?’
‘Mmm yes, “flesh out”. You really are a true romantic, aren’t you?’
I choose to ignore this. ‘Meanwhile my organisation skills can be put to good use ironing out the finer details and keeping us on track,’ I say, pointedly tapping at the pieces of paper.
‘For a woman who has never seen a pencil before, I must say I’m surprised that you printed this off,’ he quips.
‘You wear glasses.’ I shrug. ‘I figured you might prefer a physical copy.’
‘That’s … surprisingly thoughtful of you,’ he concedes, taking his glasses off and looking at them.
‘Surprisingly thoughtful?’ I bristle.
‘Can I let you in on a secret?’ Joe ploughs on. ‘These aren’t prescription.’
‘You wear them for the look?’ I fall about laughing and vow to never stop mocking Joe for this.
‘I’m afraid so.’ I think he’s attempting to look embarrassed but it is entirely clear that he is, in fact, not remotely embarrassed by this admission.
I wipe my eyes. ‘Joe, that is tragique.’
‘So bad we’re speaking French now?’
‘I just …’ I splutter, mirth threatening to spill over again. ‘Whatever next, Joe?’
‘Well, we can’t all be effortlessly cool like you,’ he says, hooking the specs onto his top and looking down at the questionnaire. ‘Must say I’ve never dated someone who brings homework.’
Ah, now here’s a topic I can warm to. ‘Bloody loved homework when I was a kid. I’d have ring binders and dividers for different topics, and I’d always get new gel pens before an exam.’
‘Would it be wrong to assume that you were something of a dork, Sophie?’
‘Proudly so.’ I grin. ‘I was head girl at primary school and a prefect at secondary. I’d have been head girl there too if it wasn’t for sodding Elizabeth Vickers.’
‘Sodding Elizabeth,’ Joe echoes with a laugh.
I regard him as he throws a handful of popcorn into his mouth.
‘Surely you don’t get to head up a university department without being something of a nerd yourself?’
‘On behalf of my colleagues, I would like to refute that claim,’ Joe says, pretending to look shocked. ‘Anyway, in my later school years my mum, Denise, sat me down and told me I’d waste my talent if I carried on mucking around. She’s quite stern when she wants to be so after that, I buckled down. Took a lot of stick from my mates but it was worth it.’
I smile. ‘I like her already. Now, if our relationship is going to look authentic then we’re both going to need to memorise each other’s answers on the questionnaire. Do the revision and I think it will be a nailed-down success.’
‘Yes, boss,’ Joe barks in military fashion before picking up the questionnaire and pulling the pencil out from behind his ear. ‘Let’s see … Okay, so I’m thirty-five and I was born in Cork.’
I scribble notes on my form as he talks.
‘I came over for uni, studying at Leeds, and then I moved around a fair bit for work before settling in Bristol. I wanted Sidney to be closer to his grandparents after Claire died and my folks, Denise and Jim, had moved here from Ireland by then. The lecturer position came up at just the right time.’
I bob my head up and down, encouraging him to go on.
‘Sid adores his grandparents. He calls them Cookie and Gramps. Mum loves to bake and made cookies for him when he was tiny so the name stuck.’
‘Wait a minute. Were those cookies you brought to the bake sale—’
‘Very much not made by me.’
I raise my eyebrows and point a finger at him. ‘That’s cheating!’
‘Anything for an easy life.’ He shrugs.
The words easy life remind me of why I took an instant dislike to Joe in the first place.
‘Why did you tell Celeste that being a solo parent is easy?’ I ask.
He looks me straight in the eyes then. His are obscenely blue.
‘Right.’ He nods, spinning his beer around. ‘I knew that had wound you up. Honestly, I come out with some utter shite around those women sometimes. Celeste was being all intense and I just blurted out any old thing to end the conversation and deflect the focus away from me. Because it’s not easy, is it? That was bullshit. I am sorry if I upset you.’
I lean back in my chair, unconvinced.
‘You’ll get used to me.’ He smiles. ‘You never know, we might even end up as friends at the end of all this.’
‘Hmm … I’m quite fussy. And I have my suspicions about you. I bet you’re the kind of person who has their alarm set for, like, 6.52 a.m., 6.54 and 6.56.’
Joe lets out a low rumble of a laugh, holding his hands up in surrender. ‘You got me. Of course, you have no unread emails or app notifications on your phone because those red bubbles drive you insane, right?’
‘Guilty as charged.’
‘And you start a to-do list with something you’ve already done, just so you can tick it off already?’
‘That’s just good sense. And utterly satisfying. Now tell me more about your mum and Sidney.’
Joe beams. ‘She adores him. Especially the baking. I think my biggest let-down in her eyes was the whole gluten-intolerance thing.’
I bite my lip but a ripple of laughter comes out anyway.
‘I know.’ He grins. ‘A baking fan with a child who can’t eat bread? We still have a good laugh about it now, although Mum says she’s grateful because it got her into gluten-free baking. And Sidney’s fine so he’ll lap up whatever she cooks.’
‘There’s something really special about the bond between grandparents and their grandchildren. Lila adores my mum and dad. They live in Wiltshire so they’re pretty close.’
‘My folks live a ten-minute walk away,’ Joe says. ‘Mum’s very hands-on.’
‘Do you think we should meet each other’s parents? Will we even tell them? And what about the kids?’
Joe thinks on this. ‘I’d say Sid and Lila are too young to be involved.’
‘Totally agree. The children should not be tangled up in our web of lies.’
‘So we tell them we’re friends?’
‘I think so. I mean, I am genuinely surprised to hear myself say this but I definitely prefer you to ninety-nine per cent of the other parents at school. Although I haven’t spoken to anyone else properly yet …’ I drift off.
‘Another glowing compliment from Sophie.’ Joe laughs. ‘I don’t think we need to say anything. It’s only natural that parents with kids in the same class will end up spending time together. I think just the fact that we’re hanging out is enough.’
‘Absolutely. We don’t need to label it. I have told my sister Poppy that we’re dating – I had to because she sometimes does drop-off and I didn’t want it to get tricky – but I’ve explained that it’s early days and she’s happy to keep it all under wraps.’
‘You’re kind of like an evil mastermind, Sophie.’ Joe looks impressed.
‘Listen, pal, this was your batshit idea, I’m just trying to make it look legit.’
‘I’m eternally grateful. So are you and your sister close?’
‘She’s my only sibling and she’s great. Although some may say we’re too close; I am literally wearing her clothes tonight.’
Joe nods, jotting a couple of things down on his own piece of paper.
‘I’m thirty-three,’ I offer as he fills in the gaps. ‘I went to uni in Exeter, that’s where I met my ex-husband and we were living in London until we split. I moved here to be closer to family while I did the whole getting divorced and giving birth thing.’
‘That sounds like a very intense time,’ Joe says gently.
‘You just do it, don’t you?’ I shrug. ‘I didn’t have an alternative. And honestly, I am so much happier now. I cannot imagine life without Lila. I’d still be in London, living and working with my ex, and now that I’ve experienced this life I can see how little we actually had back then.’
‘You don’t miss him, then?’
‘Not for one second,’ I say immediately and honestly. ‘Sometimes I miss the freedom of life before kids. Getting up when you want, going out for a walk without needing to pack ten snack options, that sort of thing … But not him. Not one bit.’
‘Did you say you worked with your ex, too?’
‘Yup.’ I nod. ‘But that’s a whole other drama and maybe not one for tonight? Besides, we need photos, Joe! Evidence of our date. Pull your most handsome face so it looks like you’re trying to flirt with me.’
As I grab my phone Joe crosses his eyes over and lets his tongue hang out.
‘Phwoar,’ I quip and as he breaks into a smile I take another picture. ‘Much better.’
He starts to do the same and I protest. ‘I think my cheeks are pink from the wine!’
Joe takes a snap anyway and looks at it. ‘You’re good. I think we can call it the first flush of love. Maybe I’ll hashtag the picture with #bacchusbeauty.’
‘Please don’t,’ I say, pretending to barf. We swap social media handles and search for each other on Instagram. I notice that Joe’s account is private.
‘It’s mostly just pictures of me and Sidney goofing around but I keep it private so that my students can’t find me.’
If I’d had Joe as a tutor at uni I’m not sure that I’d have found it so easy to focus on work. I wonder how many of his students fancy him. He accepts my request and I see a cute picture of father and son has garnered a lot of likes.
Joe grimaces. ‘I get most of my likes from the other mums.’
‘I bet you do.’
He flicks through my page, which is where I like to faff around taking arty shots of random things, and says: ‘This works. I can post the cute pictures of us falling in love and you can share more obscure pics of our dates as a little hint of what’s going on? That way we’ll keep our kids’ pictures on my private profile.’
‘Yes, good, I don’t share photos of Lila in public. I don’t like the idea of Mark finding her if he got curious one day.’
Joe nods. Then he leans forward, looks me straight in the eye and drops his voice a notch. ‘So, when do we do it?’
The way he says it catches me completely off guard and I end up spluttering: ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Go Instagram official,’ Joe says after a low rumble of laughter.
‘Oh,’ I flush. For a minute there I thought he meant something entirely different. ‘No time like the present. Actually, wait. I’ve had two wines, Joe. Is this a good idea? I don’t tend to make grand gestures after two wines. I tend to drink a pint of water and get an early night. Besides, we haven’t even finished the questionnaire, let alone started memorising the answers!’
Joe signals to Maggie to pour us another round and tells her she might as well just leave the bottle. I stare at the blank spaces I’ve yet to fill in. Joe eases the questionnaire out from underneath my fingers.
‘This is a good idea,’ he says reassuringly. ‘You’ve already told your sister so we might as well let the Barnaby’s Babes know too.’
‘Barnaby’s Babes,’ I snort inadvertently. ‘You’re one of them, now.’
‘Yeah, you too, kiddo.’
‘Okay … Let’s do this. I will be needing full picture approval first.’
Joe scrolls through his phone and hands me a photo he’s already favourited. In it, I’m sitting in front of the peeling wallpaper with a glass of wine in my hand and a huge smile on my face. I blink at it. I can’t remember seeing myself look this happy and I’m including my own wedding photographs in that thought. Did I know, back when I married Mark, that it wasn’t quite right? That’s ridiculous, I tell myself. I do remember feeling even happier than I look in this photo when Lila was born but I definitely did not look this good. I looked sweaty and like I’d just pushed a very large baby out of my vagina when Poppy insisted on taking my photo.
‘What magic is this?’ I ask Joe now, suspiciously eyeing up the photo he just took. ‘Did you use a filter? I look like I’ve had a week of solid sleep and a facial.’
Joe cocks an eyebrow at me. ‘That’s your face, Sophie.’
‘Wow, this dingy pub really suits me.’
‘I’m pretty sure it’s the sparkling company you’re in,’ he retorts. ‘So am I to take it that you approve of this one? Can I post?’
I run a finger around the rim of my wineglass. Sensible Sophie really ought to be panicking right now. What kind of sane person lands themselves in such a pickle that the only reasonable way out of it is to pretend to date someone else? This is madness, isn’t it? And yet …
‘Is it weird that I’m into this plan?’ I ask. ‘Because it’s nice to hang out with someone who isn’t my pushy sister, or a parent, or my child. You’re not terrible company, Joe.’
‘Steady on, my ego’s about to explode.’
‘And tonight has been surprisingly okay.’
‘I might have that etched on my tombstone,’ he says, deadpan.
‘You are quite amusing and I don’t hate the idea of spending more time with you this year. If I were to do a risk assessment on this plan—’
‘Please don’t.’ Joe pretends to stifle a yawn.
I press on. ‘Then I’d grade it a two out of ten.’
‘Have you finished? Or do we need a spreadsheet and a PowerPoint presentation before we post this Instagram picture?’
‘Ouch.’ I laugh. ‘Joe Kitson, I am ready to go Instagram official.’
Joe picks his phone back up and starts typing. Within seconds my phone sounds to tell me that I’ve been tagged in a post. I peak at it through squinted eyes because I’m actually quite nervous.
‘To new beginnings,’ reads the caption underneath.