Chapter Thirteen
We don’t go for the drink straight away because we’re both still working; I have to get the posters and flyers back to Rollerz and finish my shift, and Darryl has to wrangle his posse of pups back to their homes before picking up the next bunch.
But we arranged to meet up in the evening in one of the local pubs, and it’s going surprisingly well.
There are no pirates singing shanties or frothing-at-the-mouth anti-feminists, and although we’re drinking, nobody is slurring.
We’re sitting in a quiet corner of The Farthing, away from the fruit machine and the group of lads huddled at the bar.
The chat is flowing and we find we actually have stuff in common, and Darryl becomes super-animated when I mention my art hobby, gushing about his favourite artists and galleries.
‘I actually modelled for an art class once.’ Darryl shrugs at my shocked face. ‘It was nerve-wracking, and a bit chilly, but it wasn’t so bad, and they gave me some flowers to drape over my, you know, area. A very big bunch of flowers, obviously.’
I splutter out a laugh. ‘I’ve never even been to an art class, never mind got my kit off for one. You’re very brave.’
‘You’ve never been to an art class?’
I shake my head. ‘Not a proper one. I did GCSE art at school, but that’s it. I’ve never taken my art seriously. I just like to sketch in my spare time, to relax.’
Darryl picks up his pint and takes a sip. ‘You should come to one of the classes I go to. Don’t worry – I won’t be nude. I only modelled that one time, so the only thing I’ll have on display is my pencil.’
I laugh again. I’ve done that a few times while I’ve been out with Darryl. I’m enjoying his company and it feels good. It feels… encouraging. Like this meet-cute thing might actually work out.
‘I’ll text you the details?’
‘Yeah.’ I nod. ‘Why not? It’s good to try new things.
’ And I’d like to see Darryl again. He’s fun and he’s definitely got an outdoorsy-cute thing going on.
I’m not sure what colour his hair is because, like earlier during his dog-walking, he’s wearing a beanie pulled down over his ears, but his blue eyes sparkle with mischief, and when he smiles, he smiles, showing off almost his full set of teeth.
‘So how did you get into dog-walking?’
Darryl takes a sip of his pint and wipes his top lip with the back of his hand.
‘It was by accident, really. My neighbour had a fall and broke her hip so couldn’t walk her Yorkie, so I offered to take him out before work and in the evening until she got back on her feet.
’ He holds his hand up. ‘Not for money. Just to be neighbourly. But then I was made redundant and she insisted on slipping me a few quid. I tried to say no but she’s the sort who doesn’t take no for an answer.
And then she started recommending me to people: other neighbours, her daughter, some guy she got chatting to in M he’s even managed to pull me out of the worst PMS funks. It’s like magic.
‘You’re coming out and you’re going to get drunk and laugh with your mates.’ I point at the telly. ‘It’s either that or you stay in watching this.’
Jonah sighs. ‘Fine. I’ll get my jacket.’ He cracks a smile. It’s only small and present for the briefest of seconds, but it’s something, at least.