Chapter 4
‘I guess you’ll be gone by the time I get home tonight,’ Aoife said to Sive as she left for work on Wednesday morning. ‘Enjoy your date with Sam.’
‘It’s not a date.’ Sive smiled, a spoonful of granola raised to her lips. ‘But thanks.’
She’d managed to get a couple of tickets for The Plough and the Stars at the Abbey for this evening and she and Sam were going for a pre-theatre dinner beforehand at a little Italian trattoria nearby.
Now that she thought about it, that did sound like a date.
Was she going on a date with Sam by stealth, she mused, chewing thoughtfully.
On the other hand, dinner and the theatre was something she’d do with any of her friends.
Did Sam see it as a date, she wondered. She decided to stop trying to define it and just enjoy it for what it was.
And if Sam thought it was a date and wanted to kiss her …
well, that wouldn’t be so terrible, would it?
She met Sam that evening at Halfpenny Lane. She was waiting for him in the lobby when he emerged from the door to the backstage area.
‘Wow, you look nice,’ he said, grinning at her.
‘Thanks.’ She’d worn a new-to-her dress, a recent charity shop find, and made an effort with her hair and make-up – all the time telling herself it didn’t mean anything. She’d dress up for a night out with a friend, after all.
‘I’ve hardly had time to comb my hair,’ Sam said, running a hand through his top-heavy locks.
‘Well, you look lovely anyway.’ Sam always looked lovely. He had such a warm, friendly smile and being around him never failed to lift Sive’s spirits.
‘Right, let’s go.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘I’m ready to wrap my chops around a pizza.’
‘Long day?’ Sive asked as they walked to the restaurant.
Sam nodded. ‘I’ve been training the new recruit. I don’t even want to think about what he’s doing with my props table right now.’
Sive laughed. She loved how proprietorial Sam was about his job at Halfpenny Lane.
She hadn’t thought there’d be anything remotely romantic about an early bird dinner, but even though it was only six, the little trattoria managed to create an intimate atmosphere with low lighting and flickering candles, and the tables were so small that Sive’s knees were touching Sam’s underneath it unless she made a concerted effort to move them away.
Still, what did it matter? They were both single and unattached, and if they were on a date, they had every right to be.
They ordered food – pizza for Sam and aubergine parmigiana for Sive – and a half carafe of red wine to share.
‘We don’t want to get sleepy during the show,’ Sive said as she poured them a glass each.
‘Are you a vegetarian?’ Sam asked her when their food arrived, nodding to her dish.
‘Hardly.’ Sive laughed. ‘You saw me scoffing that sea bass of Rocco’s on Sunday, didn’t you?’
‘Oh yeah. Though some people don’t count fish.’
‘Well, those people are only fooling themselves.’
Sam laughed. ‘I once worked with a woman who claimed to be vegetarian and then said she only ate chicken.’
‘God, poor chickens! They may not be the brightest of creatures, but they’re not on the level of vegetables.’ She paused, musing. ‘Actually, maybe they are bright. I know nothing about the IQ of chickens.’
‘I’ll google it,’ Sam said, pulling his phone from his pocket. ‘Oh wow.’ His eyes widened as they flicked over the screen. ‘It turns out they’re really smart. On a par with monkeys, believe it or not.’
‘Golly!’
‘They have thinking skills that can rival a human child,’ Sam said, eyes on the screen as he scrolled.
‘They’re way smarter than that woman you worked with who thought she was vegetarian, then.’
Sam nodded. ‘It seems wrong to eat something more intelligent than you are, doesn’t it?’
‘Makes me glad I’m almost vegetarian. I very rarely eat meat or fish. It’s too expensive, apart from anything else.’
‘Hmm. What if you became a millionaire? What would you eat then?’
‘Aubergine parmigiana probably,’ Sive said with a grin. ‘It’s one of my favourite things in the world. I always order it if it’s on the menu.’
‘And millionaire shortbread, of course.’
‘Naturally. That goes with the territory.’
‘You could eat animals that are really stupid? What’s the world’s dumbest animal, I wonder.’ Sam tapped his phone as he spoke.
‘Well?’
‘There’s quite a list, but not much you’d want to eat, apart from turkeys,’ he said, his eyes scanning the screen. ‘Pandas are strong contenders.’
‘Aw! Still, at least what they lack in brains they make up for in beauty.’
‘Like reality TV stars,’ Sam said with a laugh. ‘You’ll be sorry to hear that koalas would also be on the menu in this scenario.’
‘Also saved by their cuteness. I mean, who could contemplate eating a koala?’
‘Makes you feel sorry for poor turkeys, though,’ Sam said. ‘They have nothing going for them.’
When they’d finished their meal they walked the short distance to the Abbey and joined the throng gathering in the foyer and streaming into the auditorium.
‘This is such a treat,’ Sam said as they settled into their seats. ‘Not that I don’t love Private Lives, but it’ll be nice to see something different.’
‘Have you seen this before?’
‘Only once, when I was at school. But I know it pretty well. We did a student production of it in college.’
‘And you were in it?’
Sam nodded. ‘I was Corporal Stoddart.’ He gave her a stiff-handed salute. ‘It’ll be nice to see it again from this side.’
It was lovely sharing this with Sam, Sive thought, as the lights dimmed and an expectant hush fell over the audience.
Ben had never had any interest in the theatre, and their relationship had been characterised by compromise – though with a strong leaning towards Ben’s preferences, she had to admit.
It wasn’t that he was bullying or insistent about getting his own way.
She chuckled inwardly at the thought of sweet, shy Ben browbeating anyone.
It was just that his interests tended more towards the mainstream – football matches, blockbuster movies, stadium concerts.
So their trips to the cinema usually involved the latest Marvel offering rather than the subtitled arthouse drama she’d have chosen.
She could easily have called the shots if she’d wanted to.
She could have insisted on going to the IFI instead of the local multiplex and Ben would have gone along with whatever she wanted.
But that wasn’t her style either, and after the first time she’d taken him to see an experimental all-female production of Hamlet one October during the theatre festival, she’d decided never again.
She’d genuinely thought he’d enjoy it if he gave it a chance.
Instead, it had spoiled her own pleasure in the performance.
She’d been too aware of Ben twitching and yawning beside her, clearly in agonies of boredom and bewilderment, making her feel like she’d dragged him there against his will to suffer the agonies of the damned.
Not that he’d complained. His only comment afterwards when Sive asked what he’d thought was, ‘Bit weird, wasn’t it?
’ When pressed for more, he’d added, ‘I thought Hamlet was supposed to be a bloke.’ But his body language had said it all loud and clear, a veritable pantomime of not-getting-it and what-a-load-of-cobblers, clearly conveying that he’d rather be scraping his eyeballs out with a spoon.
Marcel Marceau himself couldn’t have done a better job of making his feelings known without speaking a single word.
So she’d compartmentalised that part of her life, even though it felt odd not being able to share something that meant so much to her with her boyfriend.
To be fair, Ben didn’t seem to mind that she’d never shared his interest in climbing and outdoor pursuits.
She’d made an effort, once suggesting they join a walking group for Sunday hikes.
But while she’d enjoyed the ramble and chat, she could see it was as stimulating for Ben as watching his beloved Manchester United play was for her, and it only left him twitching to do some proper climbing.
Looking at it in a clear-eyed way, with the benefit of hindsight, she and Ben had probably always been a mismatch.
Glancing across at Sam, thoroughly engrossed in the show, she thought how lovely it was to be with someone who shared your passions.
Was this how Ben had felt when he met Anna Purna (as she’d privately named his mountaineering girlfriend)?
Not that Sam was her boyfriend, of course. But maybe he could be…
After the show, they avoided the crush in the theatre bar and went to a quiet pub nearby, where they found a table by the window. Sam got them drinks and had just sat down opposite Sive when his phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen.
‘Sorry, I need to take this,’ he said to Sive with an apologetic grimace. ‘Hi Julie,’ he said, standing again and walking to the door as he spoke.
Sive felt a pang of jealousy and wondered who this Julie was as she watched Sam pacing the pavement outside, his phone clutched to his ear.
She was probably just a friend, she told herself, trying to stem the disappointment she felt.
But there’d been something about the way he’d answered the phone to her – something intimate in his hushed tone, the gentleness in the way he said her name, the almost furtive way he’d left the pub to speak to her.
It was a very animated conversation, whoever she was.
Sam appeared agitated, raking a hand through his hair as he talked.
As if feeling her eyes on him, he turned to Sive and mouthed ‘sorry’ through the glass.
She waved away his apology and sipped her drink, trying to ignore her disquiet and tell herself she didn’t mind.
But she couldn’t help it. This had started to feel very much like a date and one she discovered she badly wanted to be on.
Could Sam have a girlfriend she didn’t know about?
It didn’t seem likely. They saw so much of him now, with him working at Halfpenny Lane and spending so much time with her family.
And Sam was so open. If he was with someone, surely they’d have met her by now or at least have heard of her.
And he wouldn’t have been so flirty with her, would he?
But even if he didn’t have a steady girlfriend, it was na?ve to think he wouldn’t have been dating.
He was a young, good-looking guy and maybe he did fancy her, but she’d been with Ben and he was hardly going to save himself in the vague hope that they’d break up and he could ask her out.
Of course he’d have been going out with other people, kissing other girls, going home with them … Her mind shied away from the rest.
Sure, he’d been flirty with her, but he knew she had a boyfriend and nothing was going to happen between them. It was just light-hearted fun, a way of passing the time, and it didn’t mean anything. She’d just read too much into it.
It was probably better if they were just friends anyway, she told herself determinedly.
Things could get messy if they became involved, and she didn’t want to risk losing what they had.
She loved their friendship, and Sam was practically part of her family now.
Romantic relationships came and went, but friends and family were for keeps.
Sive had lost too many people in her life already. She didn’t want to lose him.
‘Sorry about that,’ Sam said, coming back into the pub as Sive was draining her drink.
‘It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.’
‘Friend having a bit of a crisis. I’m really sorry, but I need to go.’ He winced apologetically.
‘Oh, that’s fine. I’m finished anyway.’
‘Stay and have mine, if you want.’ He indicated his full glass on the table.
She shook her head. ‘Thanks, but I’m pooped.’ She stood. ‘Are you getting the Luas?’ she asked as they walked to the door.
Sam shook his head. ‘I’m going to Clontarf. I’ll get a taxi.’ He pulled his phone from his pocket to call one.
‘Oh, ok. Well, I’ll … see you when I see you.’
‘Yeah.’ Sam pulled her into a hug. ‘Thanks, I really enjoyed tonight.’
‘Me too.’ Sive wrapped her arms around him, briefly enjoying the warmth of his body, the delicious smell of his aftershave.
‘Sorry to ditch you like this,’ he said as his taxi pulled up. ‘I’ll do better next time.’
What did that mean, Sive wondered as she watched Sam drive away. But as she walked to the tram stop, she resolved to be content with what she had with Sam and not to hanker after more. She’d had enough heartache for one year.