Chapter Ten
That first text from Conrad opens a floodgate and we exchange fun and flirty messages over the next few days. I find myself staying up late into the night hoping for more, the buzz every time a new message pings staving off any chance of sleep. I’m tired but happy.
‘I don’t know.’ Rhys presses his lips into a thin line as he reads the latest message over my shoulder during a mid-afternoon lull at work. ‘He seems a bit… stiff.’
‘That isn’t always a bad thing.’ I bob my eyebrows up and down as I press my phone against my chest, away from prying eyes, and Rhys fake gags. Serves him right for being nosy.
‘Nope. We’re not doing that.’
‘Excuse me?’ I place a hand on my hip and stare open-mouthed at him. ‘So I have to hear all the sordid details of your exploits, but I can’t make a little joke about mine?’
Rhys slings an arm around my shoulders and pulls me in close. ‘Those were the terms and conditions you signed up for when you became my best bud.’
‘I don’t remember those terms and conditions.’ I narrow my eyes. ‘In fact, I don’t remember any terms and conditions at all.’
Rhys started working at Rollerz a couple of years after me, back when he was still pursuing football as a career.
The part-time bar work suited him then (and still suits him now he’s studying at uni) and we hit it off straight away, sharing the same silly sense of humour and the concept that working hard doesn’t mean you can’t have fun at the same time.
Rhys is also a good listener (even if his advice afterwards can be a bit shit) and I don’t know how I could have got through my break-up with Alfie without him.
He can be a bit of a knobhead, but he was there for me when I needed him, mopping up my tears, cheering me up by being daft, and he’d helped me to rebuild my confidence, coaxing me out of the shell I’d backed myself into.
‘There are always terms and conditions when it comes to friendship, even if they’re unspoken.
You agreed to resist my magnetic sex appeal and not fall madly in love with me, for example.
’ Rhys unshackles me from his grip, and I know he’s about to say something whack-worthy because he’s preparing to dart out of the way.
‘And I signed up to put up with your very bad singing every time we have a karaoke night.’ Rhys leaps away from me, sidestepping his way from behind the bar and skipping backwards while I advance on him, a self-satisfied grin on his face.
‘Seriously, mate. There’s a reason Karaoke Karl always puts you on last.’ He turns then and scarpers across the room, calling his last bit over his shoulder like a coward.
‘And that’s to clear the place at closing. ’
I let him go. Mainly because I see Sally, the owner of Rollerz and my boss, stepping out into the bar, but also because I can’t be arsed giving chase.
‘I’m off now, Christina.’ Sally reaches into her handbag and combs through it.
‘Can you finalise the New Year’s Eve posters and get them sent over to the printers as they need to go out ASAP?
And can you make sure the cellar door is closed at all times?
It was left open this afternoon and it’s costing us a fortune trying to regulate the temperature with the warm air getting in.
Great! I’ll see you in the morning.’ Pulling her hand out of her bag, she jingles her car keys at me in farewell and then she’s gone.
Leaving Rhys out in the bar, I head into the back office, where I open the document for the poster advertising the Rollerz New Year’s Eve line-up of two-for-one tapas and a Steps tribute act.
I’m proofreading the text when my phone pings, setting off the now familiar fizz in my stomach.
A smile breaks out on my face when I see that it’s a message from Conrad, and I yelp with delight when I read it.
It’s only five words long, but those words are beautiful:
Are you free Friday night?
I wake with the faint sensation of butterflies on Friday morning, which I think is a very good sign as it’s my date with Conrad tonight.
He suggested we meet up at Piano Quays, a piano bar in Salford that’s hosting an open-mic night.
I’ve never been to a piano bar and, although Rhys claims I sing like I’m castrating cats, I’m looking forward to it because Rhys is hardly Simon Cowell when it comes to judging talent and I happen to think I have a pretty decent singing voice.
I’m never going to pack out Wembley Stadium, but I can entertain a piano bar for two to three minutes.
‘Which top do you think I should wear tonight?’ I step into the living room and hold up the two shortlisted tops I’ve picked out of my wardrobe to wear later.
I did a bit of shopping after my date with Leonardo, so I’m more prepared this time.
‘Short-sleeved black and grey stripes or long-sleeved with star on the front? Which is also black and grey.’ I hold the tops out in front of me and study them.
‘Do you think something with a bit more colour? A bit more… glitzy?’ I don’t really have anything glitzy but that’s why I’m deciding now, at ten a.m, so I can dash into town for something more suitable if needed.
Man, finding my one true love is getting expensive.
‘Sorry, what?’ Jonah rubs his forehead as he looks up from his phone.
‘My date, tonight.’ I swish the tops at him. ‘Which do you reckon?’
‘Um…’ Jonah examines the tops for a second or two. ‘Either is great.’ His gaze drops back down to his phone, and he runs a hand through his curls.
‘Is everything okay?’ I hook the tops over the living-room door and perch on the arm of Jonah’s chair.
‘It’s Ben.’
‘Is he okay?’ Ben is Jonah’s partner, in the children’s entertainment sense, and they’ve worked as a duo for the past five years, growing their business together.
‘It’s nothing serious. A stomach upset.’ Jonah sighs.
‘But we’re booked in at the library for an after-school session.
It isn’t a huge gig – it’s making finger puppets for story time – but it’s for under-sevens, and the parental supervision at these things isn’t always great.
A lot assume it’s a drop-off thing and disappear before their kid has got their coat off, which means it’ll be down to me to supervise the whole group, and if it’s a disaster, the library won’t book us again. ’
‘I could help?’
Jonah looks at me with wide, hope-filled eyes. ‘You could?’
I shrug. ‘As long as I’m back in time for my date, and I don’t have to do any dramatic storytelling or anything?’
Jonah grasps my hands in his, squeezing tight. ‘No, nothing like that. You just have to make sure the kids don’t glue their eyelids down, and the session ends at half past four, so will that give you enough time to get ready for your date?’
‘Plenty.’ I jump up from the arm of the chair and unhook the tops from over the door. ‘But now you need to help me decide what to wear.’
We’ve only just managed to set everything out in the library when chaos descends as a dozen or so under-sevens crash into the space, throwing jackets and book bags on the floor as they race to nab a chair.
As Jonah predicted, most of the parents dash away and I start to question my sanity at volunteering when I have to dive at a kid to stop him eating a pot of PVA glue like a Munch Bunch yogurt.
But Jonah takes charge, calming the chaos and holding court as he explains the activity.
The children look up at him, rapt, as he displays a couple of pre-made finger puppets and they giggle as the puppets jiggle about on his index fingers, each with its own unique voice as they converse.
‘So your job today is to make friends for Polly and Peter.’ Jonah wriggles the puppets on his fingers. ‘And later we’re going to read a story about Polly, Peter and all their friends. There are lots of bits and pieces to use to decorate your puppets, so let’s get crafty!’
There’s a flurry of activity as the kids snatch up blank puppet bodies and their preferred decorative pieces, but it settles into a low hum as the kids craft away.
Then we all gather on beanbags and ladybird-shaped cushions in front of Jonah while the glue is drying on the puppets and he reads the story of Polly and Peter on their school trip to the zoo.
Like the kids, I’m rapt as Jonah brings the story to life, with different voices and actions, and I see firsthand how much he loves his job.
He’s in his element as the kids giggle and gasp and I wish Farrah could see him right now, see how happy he is, so maybe she could stop badgering him about getting a ‘real job’.
‘You’re amazing.’ I nudge Jonah as we’re gathering up the craft supplies and transferring them back into the storage boxes once the kids have been collected by their parents.
He shrugs. ‘Just doing my job.’
I shake my head. ‘No. I just do my job when I serve people in the bar. That was something else. Those kids loved it. They loved you.’ Jonah shrugs again, but he’s smiling, his whole face lit up. ‘I’m so glad I got to see you in action.’
‘You should have seen me in action last Saturday.’ He snorts as he winds up a ball of wool. ‘I was dressed up as a tutu-wearing gorilla in the town centre. Pirouetting and everything.’
‘Were you working or did you just fancy getting dressed up?’
Jonah bumps his hip against mine. ‘I was promoting a taster session for a new dance school.’
I’m trying to think of something amusing to say to wind him up – something to do with twinkle toes or being bananas – when one of the parents hurtles back into the children’s section.
‘Book bag.’ He bends over, placing his hands on his thighs as he gulps in air. ‘Left it. Ex will kill me. If I lose. Another one.’ He stands up straight and places his hands on his hips, his chest still heaving as he sucks in his breaths.
‘It’s okay. I’ll help you look.’ I place the pack of markers I’m holding in the storage box and stoop to look under the table while Jonah continues to pack away the craft stuff.
‘Thank you.’ The parent moves to the carpeted area, lifting up bean bags and the larger cushions. ‘She already thinks I’m an idiot.’
‘We’ll find it. Don’t worry.’ There isn’t a book bag under the table, so I check behind the book trolleys. I find a yellow jacket with daisy buttons but no bag. ‘Did they definitely have it with them when they came to the library?’
The dad nods. ‘I made sure she had it when she came out of school, and I’ve checked the car.’
We continue our search, the dad getting down on all fours to peer under a set of squishy chairs while I run my hand under a train-shaped shelving unit. My fingers snag on something and I hold up the blue book bag triumphantly as I push myself back up onto my feet.
‘Yes!’ The dad strides over, taking the bag and clutching it to his chest. ‘Thank you. You’re a life-saver.’
‘Hardly.’ I wave away his overstatement, but he shakes his head.
‘No, seriously. You don’t know my ex.’ He drops the book bag from his chest, letting it dangle by his side. ‘I need to repay you somehow.’
Behind us, still at the table, Jonah stops packing away the craft supplies and turns to catch my eye.
Is this a…
‘Let me buy you a drink.’
Yes. Yes, it is. This is another meet-cute. I’m not even safe from them in the children’s library.
‘Are you free tonight? I’ll be dropping Summer off at her mum’s at seven. Maybe we could meet up in The Farthing?’
‘I have plans tonight.’ Butterflies start to flutter as I’m reminded of my piano bar date later. ‘But maybe another time? Why don’t I take your number?’
Hey, if it doesn’t work out with Conrad, there’s no harm in having a backup plan, right?