10
‘I DON’T KNOW whether I mentioned this, darling, but I had the most enchanting partner at book club last week,’ Constance remarked over breakfast.
‘Really?’ Archie said, hoping that the inevitable wasn’t about to happen.
‘Yes, she’s about your age. Very pretty. Now, what was her name? She’s a friend of Hilary, you know, from the candle shop.’
‘Mmm hmm.’
‘I think she’d be lovely for you, Archie. If you’d like, I can ask Hilary for her number and you could give her a call.’
Archie could think of nothing worse than cold-calling whoever this poor woman was, who had already suffered an evening with his mother and probably knew far too much about him to start things off on an even footing.
‘No need, thank you, Mama.’
‘It’s so unusual for a man your age to be unattached. Let me do what I can to help.’
He hated that she thought he was a charity case. Hated that she hadn’t cottoned on that he was too old to be an attractive prospect for anyone.
‘Really, Mama. It’s very kind of you, but I’ve arranged to go out for dinner with someone, so there’s no need for you to worry about me.’ He could hardly believe how easily he’d blurted out something that wasn’t remotely true, without even thinking about it.
His mother couldn’t hide her astonishment. ‘Whomever have you asked?’
‘She’s only recently moved here, so I doubt you’d know her.’ Although it was an outright lie to tell his mother he’d asked someone out, he had thought that perhaps, at some point, he might ask Nora. He was still convinced she must be married or attached to someone. Why wouldn’t she be? But he could ask her under the guise of wanting to know more about the lake swimming. So even if she had a partner, it’s not as if it had to be strictly a date or anything like that.
‘Oh, darling. Well done.’
Somehow, it made him feel even worse that his mother was a well-mannered step away from jumping up and down and cheering. That the idea of him taking a woman out for dinner should be cause for celebration was yet another mark on the tragic tally that was his life.
‘Thank you,’ he said, tightly.
‘When is the big night?’
Oh god, he hadn’t thought this through at all. ‘Next week sometime. I forget now.’ He patted his breast pocket, and looked around the table, pretending to have lost track of his phone.
‘You must let me know so that I can tell Mrs Milton not to cook for you that evening.’
It was starting to feel like the butterfly effect; a tiny fib was beginning to blossom into a web of lies he already knew he was going to struggle to keep track of. The best thing he could do now was to actually arrange something for an evening next week, even if it was to take Seb up on his ongoing offer to go to the pub.
‘I will. Right, I must be off,’ he said, more to put an end to the conversation than because he had anything pressing to do. ‘What are you doing with yourself today?’
‘Penny is picking me up. We’re going to the pictures.’
‘In the park?’
‘Yes. It’s a special showing of Singing in the Rain and we can knit while it’s on.’
‘That sounds… fun.’
‘It will be. Bye darling!’
Since the Croftwood Festival the previous summer, his mother’s social life had blossomed. Joining the book club and a sewing circle, which Seb’s fiancée Jess ran, had given her friends she could have fun with instead of the stiff-upper lip crowd she used to socialise with before his father died. Losing her husband at a relatively young age had isolated her. No longer part of a couple, the invitations fell away, and she had become lonely. Archie’s father had been brought up to keep up a benevolent yet arm’s length relationship between the Court and the town and it was only recently that Archie and his mother had ventured into becoming part of the community by becoming involved in the festival. Both planning and attending had been wonderful experiences for the pair of them.
Archie was hoping that Seb might be around when he went to the estate office, but he wasn’t. He looked at his watch. He’d almost certainly missed Nora this morning, and anyway, he had been uncomfortable with the idea of seeing her two days in a row in case it frightened her off. But the impending evening out was pressing down on him as if he were carrying a sack of potatoes across his shoulders so he rang Seb.
‘Seb, I wondered if you were on the estate somewhere.’
‘I’m in town. I popped into the council offices to see if I could make an appointment with the planners and now I’m having a coffee. Have you got time to come and join me?’
Archie was about to say no, then he stopped and wondered why not? A coffee was not as bad as having to go to a pub and if he was thinking of becoming friends with Nora as well, he ought to get some practice in. Although why Seb would pay for a coffee when he could have a perfectly satisfactory one in the estate office, Archie couldn’t fathom. ‘Where are you?’
Seb gave him directions to Olivers, a café he’d driven past numerous times but never been into.
‘I’m on my way,’ he said decisively and with a small thrill that he was doing something very much out of the ordinary.
Oliver’s wasn’t very busy. Archie supposed it was between the breakfast rush and elevenses.
‘Archie!’ Seb raised a hand and pointed to the two cups on the table, indicating that he’d already bought Archie a coffee.
Toby, who Archie had met a few times while they’d been organising the festival licensing, was sat at a table engrossed in something on his laptop but otherwise, Archie didn’t recognise anyone. It wasn’t a surprise but it made him feel a little sad that even though he’d lived in Croftwood his whole life, he was that much removed from the town.
‘I got you a cappuccino,’ said Seb, pushing the cup towards him.
‘Thank you.’ Archie took a sip and realised straight away that this coffee was in a different league to what could be produced from a jar.
‘I’ve arranged a meeting with the planning officer for Friday morning at the estate office. Does that suit you? I mentioned that we’re looking for change of use to offices, maybe retail. We’ll just pick their brains about what’s possible.’
‘Great,’ said Archie. ‘Might we ask what they think about the lake?’
‘I think it could be too soon. We need to do some research first so we’re clear what we’re asking for when the time comes.’ Seb drank his coffee. ‘Speaking of which, have you seen any more of Nora lately?’
‘Yesterday.’ Archie took a moment to consider how to share his current predicament with Seb. ‘Do you think it would be odd if I asked her out for dinner?’
‘Not at all! Good for you!’ Seb reached over and gripped Archie’s forearm. ‘Where are you going to take her?’
Needing to take a step back, Archie said, ‘How do I know whether she’s free to come out with me?’
‘Well, you could ask her.’
Archie shook his head.
‘Come on. You must have an idea already about whether she’s with anyone. If you’ve had a handful of conversations with her and she hasn’t mentioned anyone, you’re probably safe.’
It was true. He would have remembered if she had. And surely when she talked about moving to Croftwood, it would have come up naturally in conversation, and he didn’t remember her saying ‘we’ rather than ‘I’.
‘Right. So perhaps I’ll go to the lake tomorrow and ask her.’
‘There’s no need to be nervous, Arch. Are you feeling a bit rusty?’
‘More than a little,’ Archie admitted. ‘It’s a long time since I did anything like this.’
‘So what’s prompted it? You don’t sound that keen. Is it just the nerves, or something else?’
‘My mother is trying to set me up with someone. I ended up telling her that I had arranged a date with someone myself to try and get her to back off,’ Archie said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.
Seb stifled a laugh with his fist. ‘Oh god. That’s a nightmare. Sorry, I know it’s not funny. But now I see where you’re coming from. Presumably you’d like to ask her out for dinner, just not right now.’
‘I thought about suggesting you and I go out, but I’m having enough trouble lying to Mama without adding another layer of lies when she inevitably gives me the third degree about my evening out.’
‘Good point. Look at it like this. You like her. You need to go on a date to make your mother happy. This is win-win.’
Archie wished he could see it like that. He already knew that once he got the asking part out of the way, all the anxiety he had around that would be replaced by the anxiety around not only the date but what she would think of him. ‘It’s ridiculous,’ he said quietly. ‘I have nothing to offer her. It seems wrong to suggest that I’m interested in a relationship when the reality is that she won’t want a man of little means.’
‘How do you know what she wants? And why shouldn’t you have some fun? Don’t overthink it. I know that’s difficult if you like her as much as I think you do, but give yourself a chance. What if I’d thought that when I met Jess? I was basically homeless and squatting in the flat upstairs,’ he said, pointing to the ceiling. ‘You’re not quite at rock bottom, you know. And also, this isn’t the nineteenth century, so your means shouldn’t matter to anyone. But can I give you one tip?’
‘Please.’
‘You need a haircut. And not the kind your housekeeper gives you. A proper one. Go to the barber’s shop by the traffic lights and ask for Andy.’
There was no time like the present. Perhaps a new haircut would give him the confidence he needed. Maybe he’d feel like a different person. Someone Nora would be proud to be seen with. He also needed to think about what he was going to wear, but that could wait until he’d asked Nora.
In the event, when he ventured home with the coolest haircut he’d ever had, his mother pounced on him. She was in the drawing room with piles of clothes draped across the back of one of the sofas. When he walked in she had her back to him.
‘Oh, Archie,’ she said, when she heard him come into the room. She was holding a man’s jacket in each hand, ‘I asked the gentlemans’ outfitters to drop a few bits off for you to try. Good lord!’ She turned and saw the new haircut.
‘Do you like it, Mama? It was Seb’s suggestion.’ To be fair to his mother, it was rather radical. His mop of curly hair that Mrs Milton trimmed on occasion, had been cropped on the top, along with a short back and sides. The front had been left long enough so that it could be swept back, as it had been expertly by Andy the barber, who’d taken the time to show Archie how to achieve the same look himself.
His mother stood, taking it in, her shocked expression gradually softening. ‘It’s wonderful, darling. You look very dashing. I imagine this is in preparation for your… date?’
‘Well…’
‘We are thinking along the same lines.’ She thrust a jacket at him. ‘Try this one.’
‘I don’t need new clothes. I’m sure I have something in my wardrobe that will do.’
‘Archibald Harrington. You cannot possibly hope to find anything smart enough within your current wardrobe,’ she said in a tone that made Archie feel about eight years old. ‘It’s my treat.’
‘Mother,’ he began, about to put his foot down, until he met her eye and saw that it would do no good. ‘Thank you.’
He shrugged on the jacket. It was a chestnut tweed that even to his inexpert eye didn’t seem attractive.
‘No, that’s not your colour at all,’ his mother said. ‘Try this one.’
After half an hour of shucking jackets on and off, she declared victory with a dark navy blue tweed that had tiny flecks of colour in it. Archie went into the hallway to take a closer look in the ornate gilt-framed mirror that hung over the fireplace, handily tilting forward from its hook so he could see himself quite well. It was remarkable how the well-cut jacket, aided by the haircut, made him look at least ten years younger and instantly smartened him up.
‘Reluctantly, I have to agree,’ he said, smiling affectionately at his mother when he went back into the drawing room. ‘This is a very nice jacket.’
‘Now. Let’s start on the slacks.’
‘I will not be wearing slacks,’ he said, holding up a hand, as if that was likely to stop his mother when she was on a roll. ‘I will be wearing jeans.’ He’d already settled on this since he had a newish pair that didn’t look that different to the jeans that Seb would wear. And they were dark enough to look smart.
‘You cannot wear…jeans!’ Constance exclaimed in horror.
‘Honestly, Mama. Jeans are considered acceptable these days. I think a nice shirt, perhaps the floral one that Jess made for me, would go well with this jacket and a pair of jeans,’ he said firmly.
‘Perhaps I am old-fashioned. I only want you to look your best because it’s been so long since you’ve courted anyone.’
Archie walked over to her, took the trousers out of her hands and took her hands in his. ‘I’m grateful that you take an interest. And thank you for the jacket.’ He kissed her cheek, and then she reached up and cupped his cheek with her hand, giving his face a gentle tap.
‘Go on with you, she said. ‘Hang that jacket up before it creases.’