Chapter 8 #3
What do I do now? I don’t want to go back to my gran and grandad’s, not yet – oh, shit.
Tom. I’m supposed to be meeting him soon, at the pub.
I was going to go and tell him that I couldn’t stay but, I don’t know, with Woody being a bust, maybe I could have one drink with him?
It beats going home early, and it definitely beats hanging out with Woody.
Screw it, I’ll do it, I’ll go to the pub and meet Marlena’s grandson. It’s less than two minutes from here so I’ll freshen up, maybe grab another quick drink, pay the bill and then head right over.
By the time I’m making the short journey from what seems like the only bar to the only pub, I’m ready to sit inside, so I’m delighted to see that they have an open fire lit.
Oh, and that must be Tom, sitting at the table in front of it, because his stripy blue shirt stands out a mile in a room that is otherwise filled with plaid and tweed.
It’s only as I approach him that I notice how familiar his curly brown hair seems, and as I peer around to get a look at his face, my worst fear comes true.
‘Woody?’ I blurt as our eyes meet.
‘Liberty, what the fuck? Are you stalking me?’ he asks.
‘Oh, don’t flatter yourself,’ I clap back. ‘I’m… you’re… Your grandma isn’t called Marlena, is she?’
‘Yeah, she is,’ he replies. ‘Oh, God, tell me you’re not Elsie’s granddaughter…’
I can’t help but laugh.
‘Oh, no,’ he says. ‘No, no, no.’
You would think I’d be offended at how horrified he is, but it only makes me laugh harder.
I sit down at the table with him for a moment, just to satisfy my curiosity.
‘Wait, I thought my gran said I was meeting someone called Tom though?’ I point out.
‘Yeah, I’m Tom,’ he replies. ‘Tom Wood – Woody to my friends. Nanna never mentioned your name, only that you were Elsie’s granddaughter. You’re supposed to be wearing a red scarf.’
‘I don’t have one. So, wait, you scheduled two dates for one night?’ I check.
‘So did you,’ he replies.
‘No, I scheduled one,’ I correct him. ‘My gran set me up with the other, and I didn’t have any details to cancel.’
‘My nanna is always trying to set me up too. She wants me to settle down, so she lines me up these blind dates with her mates’ kids, or grandkids, and then tells me to turn up in a striped shirt so they can find me.
Honestly, I think she’s just worried about me being alone.
She wants me to be happy, like her and my grandpop were when he was still with us. ’
That’s the first hint I’ve seen of something sincere and likeable from Woody. He isn’t entirely detestable, when he shows his vulnerable side.
‘I get that,’ I tell him. ‘My gran had the same sort of idea. She worries about me too.’
‘Nanna told me that Elsie told her what happened to you,’ he replies. ‘With your ex. That’s rough, that. No one deserves that. It makes sense to me now, why you’re being so guarded with me. I’m sorry if I made a bad first impression.’
I am… disarmed. I wasn’t expecting him to be nice, caring or understanding. Maybe he’s not as bad as he seemed before? Is that possible?
‘That’s okay,’ I tell him. ‘I mean, we’re here now, our grans wanted us to meet – we might as well have another drink?’
‘Yeah, I’d like that,’ he replies. ‘Shall I get them?’
‘Well, you did leave me to pay for the last ones,’ I can’t resist pointing out.
‘You did tell me you were a modern woman,’ he dares to joke. ‘Take a seat, I think I know what you like now. I’ll surprise you.’
Woody does seem like he’s making more of an effort now so I make myself comfortable, taking off my coat to enjoy the heat from the fire, and when he comes back, we start chatting and it’s actually nice.
We don’t go near anything controversial, or anything to do with relationships, we just chat shit and it’s enjoyable.
Perhaps Woody really isn’t so bad after all.
After a while, I notice him look at his watch. Then he puts his coat on.
‘Are you going?’ I ask, surprised.
‘No, no, I’m just cold,’ he tells me. ‘Carry on with your story.’
‘Woody, it’s boiling in here, are you okay?’ I check.
‘Yeah, I’m fine,’ he says, slumping back in his seat a little. ‘Carry on.’
I open my mouth, to carry on, but that’s when I notice her, the woman at the bar, looking around like she’s trying to find someone – and she’s wearing a red scarf.
I look at Woody through narrowed eyes.
‘Woody, do you have another date?’ I ask him.
‘What? No!’ he insists.
‘Then why have you covered up your shirt, and why is there a woman over there, in a red scarf, clearly looking for someone?’
‘All right, okay, yes, fine, I did schedule in another,’ he confesses quietly. ‘I thought, if this one didn’t go well, I may as well line up another.’
Oh, and there it is again, my ick alarm. I can’t ignore it again.
‘And if this one was going well?’ I ask.
‘Then I put on my coat, keep my head down, and wait for her to leave,’ he replies.
‘To be honest, I’d assumed with you being on the apps that we would have gone straight from the bar to my place.
Anyway, it’s a compliment, that I’m ditching her, to stay with you.
I’m actually having a really nice night, and I think you are too. ’
‘It wasn’t too bad, until I realised you’d lined up three dates for one evening, I watched you hide from one inside your coat, and I’m trying not to overthink what you just said about us going back to yours, but it’s pretty safe to say that’s not going to happen,’ I tell him.
Woody frowns.
‘Has she gone?’ he asks me.
‘What, your third date?’ I check.
He nods his head.
‘Yeah, she left, while you were hiding,’ I tell him.
Honestly, this man. I can tell by his body language that he wants to go after her, now that he knows nothing is going to happen here.
‘You want to go, don’t you?’ I ask, but I already know the answer.
He nods again.
‘Go,’ I tell him. ‘I need to go to bed anyway.’
Woody doesn’t need telling twice, he’s off like a shot. At least he paid for our drinks at the bar this time.
Unbelievable. I get it, the man doesn’t like to waste time, but three dates in one night? Wow. I know there aren’t that many single people here but, even so, you could at least take a breath in between dates.
That’s it for me, back to Gran and Grandad’s, to get some sleep.
I’ll be up early to head back to London, to get ready for my trip, and then Canada it is.
If there is one thing Woody has taught me about men tonight – by having me think about dealbreakers, things I do and don’t want from a man – it’s this: there is nothing more attractive than a man who lives far enough away that, when it’s time to go home, you can leave him thousands of miles away.
For me, knowing Woody is in Yorkshire, where my grandparents live, he’ll always seem that little bit too close.
Canada here I come!