Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
As the day rolls on, I feel nervous and excited about this evening. Gemma and I had sat in the staffroom earlier and I hadn’t managed to eat a thing, Gemma asked me if I was feeling okay and I’d told her I was fine, just not hungry. She never really said much about my date with Kian, but then she has spent half of the afternoon trying to suppress yawns, so she clearly had a really late night last night.
The afternoon ticks over, with me trying to quell the nerves in my stomach, and soon enough it’s time for me to finish my shift and I grab my coat and bag ready to head off for home.
‘I hope your date goes well,’ says Gemma. ‘And I’m sorry I haven’t said much about it, but you’re my best friend and I can’t bear the thought of you being hurt, you are so good to everyone else, you deserve nothing but the best.’
She throws her arms around me and squeezes me.
‘Oh, Gem, I know. And thanks. I promise to get to the bottom of the mystery woman, don’t worry, and I am touched by your concern, really.’
Back home, I find Dad knocking nails into a wall, repairing a shelf in the kitchen that was ever so slightly wonky.
‘Dad, what are you doing? You are supposed to be taking things easy,’ I tell him as I shrug off my coat.
‘I know, but that shelf was annoying me. Whoever put that up mustn’t have owned a spirit level,’ he says, with a shake of the head.
Dad has the same eye for detail as me, and I had also noticed the ever so slightly off-kilter shelf that my previous boyfriend had erected, his one contribution to any DIY in the house. I didn’t want to comment on it at the time, in the hope it might have encouraged him to do a bit more but that never happened. I must have become accustomed to the shelf being like that over time, although maybe my cookery books lining it had obscured the imperfection slightly.
Dad straightening the shelf has somehow removed any final reminder of my ex, which seems fitting as I am out on a date for the first time in ages.
‘Thanks, but take it easy now. You have your operation in a few days,’ I remind him.
‘I’m fine, love, just a bit bored,’ he confesses. ‘And there was no heavy lifting involved,’ he assures me. ‘And your mother won’t let me lift a finger, even though she’s only just about on her feet herself.’ He nods towards the kitchen. ‘And no one wants their gardens doing with this ground frost.’
‘I’ll tell you what you can do then,’ says Mum, emerging from the kitchen, a tea towel thrown over her shoulder. ‘You could pop down to the allotments and get a couple of parsnips, if you have any left. I’ve found a lovely recipe for parsnip and apple soup.’
‘I’m on my way,’ says Dad, looking pleased. ‘There are plenty left as I always grow far too many.’
‘And don’t be doing any work down there,’ she shouts after him as he collects his coat from a hanger in the hall.
‘Your father never did like sitting around,’ says Mum, pouring me a cup of tea a few minutes later.
‘That’s true. Talking of which, are you not doing too much?’ I ask, although Mum seems to be healing remarkably well.
‘I’m absolutely fine. I had no broken bones remember, just bruising which is fading fast. Look.’
She pulls her jeans down slightly and reveals the large bruise that is already beginning to turn a pale yellow.
‘I’m pleased you healed so quickly, Mum. I hope I have your genes when I get older.’
‘Just look after yourself, that’s the trick. Although good genes do help, of course.’ She winks.
‘Right, I must go and get ready,’ I tell Mum as another fluttering of nerves take hold. ‘Will you give me your honest opinion on my outfit?’ I ask.
‘You know I will.’
I shower and change, finally having settled on a pair of wide-legged black trousers, paired with my new purchase, the silver-grey blouse. I decide to gel and smooth my hair back into a ponytail and a slash of red lipstick completes the look. When I make my way downstairs, Dad has just returned, smelling of fresh air and earth.
‘Just look at you.’ Dad gives a low whistle. ‘This Kian is a lucky bloke.’
‘Thanks, Dad.’ I am happy to have his approval, although Mum will give me an honest appraisal.
‘Oh yes,’ she agrees. ‘You look really beautiful, classy but not overdone.’
‘Thanks, Mum, that’s exactly the look I was aiming for.’
‘Although…’ She cocks her head to one side and studies me for a moment. ‘Maybe you could do with a necklace. What about that silver one?’
I nip upstairs and put on the silver necklace. Mum was right. I was worried the outfit looked a little businesslike, but the necklace has transformed it into evening wear. I feel fully dressed for a date now.
I take a glance at my watch, ten minutes before Kian is due to collect me. He had texted earlier, checking if I was still okay for this evening, and I’d told him yes and that I was looking forward to it. I fleetingly wonder who will be looking after Bella tonight, and whether it might be the female relative I saw him with. Assuming that’s what she was. I lightly spray some perfume onto my wrists before I head downstairs.
I consider having a quick glass of wine before Kian arrives, but if I rush it my face will flush, so decide against it.
‘You look perfect now,’ says Mum kindly. ‘I hope you have a lovely evening, you really deserve it.’
Before I know it, Kian has pulled up outside the house to collect me. He says hi to Mum, and I quickly introduce him to Dad before we leave.
‘Wow,’ he says, when I am seated in the car. ‘You look amazing.’
I take in his appearance, his dark jeans and a crisp light-blue shirt beneath a charcoal woollen coat. It seems he has left his battered leather jacket at home. He smells good too.
‘So do you.’ I smile, fastening my seat belt and looking forward to spending the evening with him.
It’s around a half hour drive to the venue and we chat easily as we drive along, asking each other about how our day has been. I tell him about the dress fiasco. He tells me he had seen a client who was terrified of washing-up liquid.
‘It was a strange one indeed,’ he confesses. ‘But I think I managed to get her to relax and face the washing-up, for today at least.’ He smiles. ‘She tells me her kids think it’s just an excuse to get them to do the dishes.’ He laughs that easy laugh. ‘Please don’t repeat that in public,’ he adds. ‘Confidentiality and all that. Although I never actually mentioned their name, but you just never know who is listening.’
‘Oh definitely, and I don’t suppose many people have that particular phobia,’ I remark. ‘And don’t worry, I have learned discretion from working in a shop,’ I tell him, before immediately thinking about the gift he purchased. I don’t want to mention it though, at least not right now.
‘Would you like some music on?’ Kian asks.
‘Sure, that would be nice.’
He finds Classic FM and the sound of something familiar fills the car.
‘Was this on a TV advert or something?’ I ask.
‘That’s right, it was on an airline ad, I think. George Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue”.’
‘Maybe that’s where I have heard it. Are you into classical music then?’ I ask.
‘Not particularly. I just thought it might set a nice mood.’ He smiles.
‘You could try Smooth Radio,’ I suggest.
‘So you like smooth guys, huh?’ He turns to me.
‘Not smooth guys, no, just the radio station. They play nice ballads.’
‘I know they do, I am playing with you. Smooth Radio it is then,’ he says, finding the station, where Boyz II Men are belting out one of their biggest hits that says something about coming to the end of a road.
‘Blimey, I hope not. We’re only just getting started, both metaphorically and literally.’ He laughs.
So he thinks this is just the beginning of something? I find myself feeling excited by that thought.
We drive down a forest road, a silvery moon shining through the branches of the trees. It makes me think of the evening of the moon bathing where I first met Audrey, and I tell Kian this.
‘She seems like a nice girl?’
‘She is. And she is super talented at making things,’ I say, recalling the centrepiece for the dinner and winning first prize at the gingerbread evening.
‘Well, she is lucky to have met you, and so am I,’ he says.
‘It wasn’t maybe under the best circumstances.’ I pull a face.
‘Do you mean dousing me in Prosecco, or stealing my hall space?’ he teases.
‘Probably the former, and I didn’t steal your space, you stole mine,’ I stubbornly tell him. ‘Although it all worked out in the end.’
‘Which I told you it would,’ says Kian. ‘Even though on paper you might think that would never have worked out. I was worried it would be a complete disaster.’
‘You were?’
‘Of course. I didn’t tell you that though, no sense in us both flapping, was there?’ He grins. ‘Anyway, the old people seemed to love having the children around, didn’t they?’
I think of Elsie and how the little boy handed her the plastic elephant.
‘They really did. And the kids enjoyed it too.’
‘Oh, they did,’ agrees Kian. ‘Bella giggles every time she tells me about the old people playing musical statues.’
‘Your face when you walked in.’ I can’t help but laugh as I recall the moment Kian returned to the community centre to see old people in various stages of stillness, and his comment about ‘Thriller’.
‘And just seeing how much the pensioners enjoyed mingling with the children gave me an idea,’ I tell Kian.
‘Oh right, what are you thinking?’ he asks as we drive, the radio playing another cheesy ballad.
‘Well, I was thinking they could be invited into the local school hall, say once a month and the children could do some singing. Maybe even play some music. I know the local primary school was always quite encouraging about music sessions.’
‘That sounds like a lovely idea.’ Kian smiles. ‘And maybe the other volunteers could help out with lifts, given plenty of notice. I would be happy to do so too,’ he offers.
‘You would? Oh, that’s wonderful. I’ve asked the old headteacher to run it by the new one, who she is friends with.’
‘Do you always think about other people?’ Kian asks as we drive along.
‘I just see it as giving something back,’ I tell him. ‘I mean, I have everything I want. A lovely home, a job I enjoy and so on. I consider myself quite fortunate compared to many.’
‘Those around you are the fortunate ones, I’d say,’ he says, casting a glance at me.
I blush and look out of the window as Kian turns into the restaurant’s car park.
Kian walks around to the passenger door and opens it for me. He takes my hand as I step out, and I feel as though I am in an old Hollywood movie.
‘Thank you.’
I wrap my fashionable black shawl around me as we make our way inside.
Kian has chosen a French restaurant with dark wooden tables and red lamps at the centre. The walls are adorned with an assortment of mirrors and black-and-white photographs, and the people seated at tables are sipping drinks from vintage glasses. The whole place is glamorous, yet unstuffy. Kian has booked a table near a window that a friendly waiter leads us to.
‘This place looks amazing,’ I comment as I sit down. ‘You chose well.’
‘Thank you. To tell you the truth I haven’t been here before, it’s pretty new, I believe, but the online reviews were great. I hope you like French food.’
‘Oh, I do, omitting the frogs’ legs, that is.’
I’d been to a French restaurant with Gemma, and although a high-street chain, the food was actually very good. Kian orders us each a glass of red wine and some water, whilst I peruse the menu.
‘You suit being in a place like this,’ says Kian, closing his menu. ‘You look beautiful this evening.’
‘Thank you.’ I can feel the colour creep up my cheeks, thankful for the muted lighting.
‘So how is Bella?’ I ask, after I have ordered.
‘Really well. She’s having a sleepover at my parents’ tonight.’ He holds my gaze as he lifts his wine glass, and my stomach gives a little jolt, wondering if he will invite me inside his place at the end of the evening? And what will I say if he does?
‘Do you have any other family living nearby?’ I ask as I take a sip of my wine.
‘No one other than my parents, who are a ten-minute drive away.’
I wonder then about the willowy blonde who is obviously not a family member.
‘They moved from Ireland to be closer to Bella,’ he explains. ‘They have two older grandchildren from my sister, who started young. Seventeen, to be exact. As you can imagine, the reaction from a Catholic Irish family wasn’t the best,’ he reveals. ‘But my parents came around in the end. My two nephews are twenty-two and twenty respectively, and doing their own thing now,’ he tells me. ‘Mum was delighted when Bella was born. She always wanted a granddaughter and wanted to be a part of her life, so they moved to the Lakes.’
‘I can understand that,’ I say. ‘And Bella is adorable.’
‘She is. I think after my parents retired, they realised they could be more involved with Bella, which is working out well.’
I’m about to say I saw him in town on Christmas Day, yet something stops me. I don’t want to ruin this perfect evening, so keep telling myself that surely he would not be sat here with me if there was anyone else on the scene.
Our order arrives then, and we dine on the most delicious food. It tastes a lot nicer than the chain I visited with Gemma, the chicken tarragon tasty and melt in the mouth. I can’t resist a tarte Tatin to finish, and soon Kian is settling the bill and we are taking the short walk to the cinema.
‘Are you cold?’ asks Kian as I wrap my shawl tightly around me as we walk.
‘Not really,’ I tell him. ‘Why? Would you have given me your coat if I said yes?’
‘I’m not that much of a gentleman.’ He laughs. ‘It’s cold out here.’ He shivers.
‘Charming.’ I laugh.
The sky is clear this evening, a silvery moon casting its light on the pavement. Christmas lights adorn shops and houses as we pass through the town reminding me that it is still very much the holiday season. A couple pass us, their hands entwined and I wonder how it would feel to have Kian’s hand in mine.
After a short walk, we enter the cinema and are greeted by a huge Christmas tree in the entrance. A queue of adults are waiting to pay so whilst Kian insists on buying the tickets, I grab us both a coffee from a kiosk.
Seated in the comfortable seats, I am soon immersed in the film, trying to dispel any uneasiness in the back of my mind about the mystery woman. Kian told me that he had no other family nearby, so maybe that’s why I am curious as to who she is. Perhaps she is just a close friend, men are allowed to have friends, aren’t they? She could be someone from the apartment who was just walking home from town and ran into them both, but then, why would she be holding Bella’s hand?
If anything is going to distract me from my thoughts it is the beautiful film that has dual locations both in the British countryside and Syria. A chocolatier who ran a coffee shop in Damascus selling handmade truffles had been displaced by war many years ago, so opens a shop in a sleepy Cotswolds village. It had tones of the movie Chocolat , but with some heartbreaking flashbacks from his life in his homeland before the atrocities. Overall, it was a story of triumph over tragedy, and left me with a smile on my face at the determination of the human spirit.
‘That was wonderful.’ I sigh as we take the walk back across town to the car park. ‘The film deserves those awards and to think it was based on a true story.’
‘I know, the guy uprooted his family from their homeland and took a chance, and it all worked out. I’m glad you enjoyed it, I loved it too,’ says Kian. ‘I did check the reviews carefully, as I didn’t want to take you to a flop of a movie.’
‘I think the restaurant would have made up for it, it was wonderful. And surely a film featuring chocolate could never be that bad.’ I laugh.
It is the nicest evening I have had in a long time, and I hope Kian will ask me out again. As we walk the town is still busy, music pulsing from a bar somewhere, people out enjoying the festive period.
‘Would you like a drink?’ He gestures to a quieter bar with a Christmas tree outside strung with white lights. ‘A soft drink for me, but you might prefer something stronger?’
‘Sure, why not, but I won’t have an alcoholic drink if you aren’t.’
‘We could always have a nightcap at my place instead?’ he suggests.
He stops and looks at me, before curling his hand around mine and even in the coldness of the night my body is flooded with warmth.
‘I’d like that, thank you.’
We walk, almost wordlessly to the car and I feel as though I am floating on air, as any doubts I may have harboured have disappeared.
‘I’ve had a lovely evening,’ I say as Kian opens the car door for me to step inside. Not before he has pulled me into his arms for a gentle, yet thrilling kiss, in the quiet car park shrouded by trees.
‘Wow that was unexpected,’ I tell him, when we pull apart.
‘Was it really?’ he asks. ‘I’ve been dying to kiss you all evening.’
‘I’m glad you did,’ I tell him as I slip into the passenger seat.
‘This is me then,’ says Kian, fifteen minutes later as he turns his key in the lock of the front door.
I step inside the apartment, which is almost how I imagined it in my mind’s eye. White walls, decorated with stylish art and a huge sofa that dominates the room. Potted plants are dotted about, including an impressive-looking bonsai sitting on a black wooden unit. A huge stripy coloured rug covers a grey-coloured wooden floor.
‘Nice place,’ I comment as he invites me to sit down.
I feel suddenly nervous as I relive that kiss in the car park. How is Kian expecting the evening to pan out? How am I expecting it to?
‘Drink?’ he asks.
‘A glass of red wine, if you have it?’ I ask.
‘Of course.’
He heads to the kitchen, a glimpse of which I can see from the sofa. It is fitted out with sleek navy cupboards and pale marble worktops.
He returns with a whisky for himself, and passes me a glass of wine.
‘Thank you.’
Kian plays some music from speakers and I sit back and relax. He comes and sits next to me then and slips his arms around my shoulders. But it’s no good. I must ask him about the woman I saw him with in town.
‘I forgot to say, I saw you in town on Christmas Day as I was driving.’ I sip my wine.
‘You did? I never saw you. Why didn’t you stop and say hi?’ he asks, looking puzzled.
‘Because you were with someone.’ I can feel my heart beating wildly.
‘Oh, right,’ he says, his face adopting a more serious expression.
‘Was it a friend?’ I ask, twirling the stem of my wine glass.
‘Not exactly, but I don’t want you to get the wrong idea if I tell you,’ he says, looking a little sheepish.
‘Tell me what?’
‘Who the woman was with me and Bella.’