Chapter 30
30
I get up ridiculously early, telling myself it’s so I can walk Roudie before Tony arrives. But the pup doesn’t seem convinced a double-speed rush round the village makes up for being forced out of bed at five thirty. He’s currently sitting at the top of the stairs, staring accusingly at me as I attempt the no-make-up make-up look. I’ve watched enough YouTube videos to write a thesis on achieving an ‘Oh, I just woke up like this’ dewy glow. But the wind is already getting up, and unhelpfully, none of the videos mentioned which setting powder best withstands a full-on gale.
In the end, I give up, take everything off and settle for less is more. A light swipe of foundation, a tiny bit of concealer, a dusting of pale pink eye shadow and plenty of clear lip balm might just about hold up to the weather. Which brings us to what to wear. Tony’s compliments might be more ‘you look nice’ than ‘that’s a nice dress’, but I don’t believe he doesn’t notice clothes. I mean, I can’t pretend his style is to everyone’s taste. But even my mother would have to admit, everything fits him perfectly.
I suspect he likes his women equally well turned out. Only I’m not sure how to combine stylish with muddy. I frenziedly pull things out of the wardrobe then throw them back, until Roudie wanders in. He gazes at me, head on one side. I definitely don’t want today to include Tony being equally confused over why I can’t understand a weather forecast. So, I opt for comfort over fashion. Except I do make sure the leggings I choose aren’t just thermal. They also provide a little artificial boost to what nature and a depressingly large number of squats can achieve. And the sweatshirt is a soft lilac, which I’ve decided is the optimal colour for the naturally pale.
Next, I attempt a tight, high ponytail. But however much I straighten the ends, they keep kinking out at weird angles. The straightening introduces bumps, and let’s just say, no one’s going to mistake me for an influencer. I consider rewashing it and starting from scratch. Except, it’s already seven thirty, and I can’t possibly get that done in time. Admitting defeat, I brush my hair out, pull it back loosely and clip it up. Looking in the mirror, I suppose there’s a chance Tony will think it’s deliberately dishevelled, rather than merely messy.
Mirrors aren’t my friend. Especially now I’m ready, with nothing practical to distract me from the flaws. And thank you, but I don’t need reminding there are people really suffering while I’m fretting over uneven skin tone or a less than perfect jawline. It’s just when I daydream about Tony, which let’s face it, is most of the time, everything’s perfect. Including me. The thought of spending the day with him, knowing that inevitably, he’ll be comparing me to Angharad, and that the comparisons won’t be in my favour, well, it’s dispiriting. I consider texting that I’ve a headache or it’s too cold or something’s come up at work. But my excuse selection is interrupted by the doorbell.
I grit my teeth and walk downstairs behind Roudie, hurtling down three steps at a time. When I open the door, Roudie goes into an orgy of delight, leaping and wagging. Looking at Tony, I can’t blame him. Predictably, he’s dressed like one of the Corleones out for a day in the country. That means suspiciously new walking boots, jeans and a black cable-knit sweater, tight over his shoulders and fractionally looser over the torso. Plus, he’s holding two cups of coffee, so his sleeve has ridden up to show the gold of his watch. And though he’s shaved, there’s already the hint of stubble, and his hair is freshly washed and gelled. Which is all to say, if I had a tail to wag, I absolutely would.
He grins at me, all white teeth and toothpaste.
‘Hello, beauty. Do you think you could get the pup to cool it, before I spill these?’ he asks, holding up the coffee.
‘Sorry, yes, of course. Come on, Roudie, that’s enough. Basket.’
For once, Roudie takes direction. That’s particularly surprising given I sound hesitant, which is an accurate reflection of how I feel. This isn’t like meeting Tony at work or the definitely-not-dates we’ve done before. The nerves last until we get into the kitchen and Tony puts down the coffee cups and wraps his arms around me, nosing into my neck. I’m glad I went for Coco perfume. Whenever I wear it, his hugs last longer.
After a minute or so, he murmurs, ‘Hello properly, Genie, love,’ his voice muffled by my shoulder.
And as I say, ‘Hello, Tony,’ I don’t feel awkward any more, or anxious. I’m just happy he’s here.
He pulls back, sliding his hands up to my shoulders. There’s a long look between us, until Tony smiles his closed-mouth, serious smile. ‘You look really pretty.’
I make an intense effort not to say anything negative. I guess he can tell because the smile becomes fractionally more teasing.
‘Is this all right for what you’ve got planned? I can easily change into something dressier, if you prefer.’
He shakes his head and his smile is back to gentle. ‘Nah. You’re just right.’ Then he grins. ‘You’ll need a nice big coat though.’
‘Do I get to know what we’re doing?’
‘Not till we’re driving. That way you can’t back out.’
I squeeze his arm. ‘I wouldn’t anyway.’
He lets me go. ‘Hope not. But I’ve got a favour to ask, before we get going. Can we take your car? I’m happy to drive, but I fancy going under the radar today and mine are a bit flash. Plus, yours is comfier for the pup.’
‘Does Roudie get to come too?’
Tony returns my full-beam smile. ‘Yeah, course. I need my wingman for this one.’
It’s only once we’re halfway out of the village that I take a sip of the coffee. The cup sleeve has the wolf logo of Lupa, my favourite coffee shop.
‘Oh, you’ve been all the way into town already.’
His voice is gruff, like he’s embarrassed. ‘Yeah, it’s the right place, is it? The one you like?’
I smile. ‘It is. How did you know?’
‘It’s where Sky goes, when she wants to get on your good side so you’ll let her go early, or so I heard?’
I laugh. ‘It is. I’m obviously easily bought.’
He tilts his head. ‘Let’s hope so.’
I smile back. We talk nonsense until we’re nearly at the motorway, when Tony becomes suddenly serious. ‘So, listen, I knows you like water, being outside, running, all that. And me and Roudie put our heads together and thought, how ’bout taking you for a walk on the beach? Does that sound all right?’
It does, absolutely right. I love the sea. But, on a good day, the nearest coast is a two-hour drive. Getting on the motorway always means the sort of traffic I hate, so I hardly ever get up the courage to go. The beach is also completely different to my first date with Gavin. That involved a classical music concert and extremely uncomfortable chairs.
‘That sounds perfect.’