Chapter 17
On Friday, Claire left work early and went straight to the airport.
It had been a busy week in the shop, and she had hardly had time to think about her actual visit, she’d just looked forward to relaxing on the flight.
But on the plane it hit her that she hardly knew Mark, and she could be letting herself in for a very awkward weekend.
So she was feeling nervous as she made her way into the arrivals hall, searching the crowds around the barrier for Mark.
Then she spotted him waving at her, and was instantly reassured by the sight of his friendly face.
She made her way quickly to him, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world when he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
It was a gentle, tentative kiss – less than lovers but more than friends.
‘It’s really good to see you,’ he said, smiling down at her.
‘It’s good to see you too.’
He took her bag and led her to his car, swinging her case into the boot. Her flight had got in just after eight, but the evenings were lengthening, and the sun was setting as they drove towards London.
‘So, I thought we’d stay in tonight,’ he said. ‘I figured you’d probably be tired after your journey.’
‘I am tired,’ Claire said, stifling a yawn, as if by the power of suggestion. ‘Why is travelling always so exhausting, even if it’s only a really short trip?’
‘Tomorrow night I’ve booked us a table for dinner at a little bistro in the village. I hope that’s okay.’
‘It sounds lovely.’
He asked after her mother and work, and they chatted easily for the rest of the journey. Mark’s place was a large garden flat in a period building just outside Highgate village.
‘This is lovely,’ she said, as he led her into a bright, modern living room with wooden floors.
She had expected his flat to be very sleek and minimalist, but it was much more homely and cosy than she had imagined, and felt comfortably messy and lived-in.
There were books piled everywhere, and floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls in the living room.
‘Come on, and I’ll show you around,’ he said, dropping her bag on the floor.
He took her on a quick tour of the flat, the kitchen living up to some of her bachelor-pad expectations, with lots of chrome appliances, high-tech gadgets and granite worktops. ‘I knew you were coming so I baked a cake,’ he said, pointing to a sponge that was sitting on a rack on the worktop.
‘You really baked? For me?’ Claire asked, touched by the sweetness of the gesture.
‘Sure. It’s lemon drizzle – my specialty.’
‘Oh, that’s my favourite! My mum makes it a lot.’
‘I have a lot to live up to, then. Are you hungry, or have you eaten?’
‘No, I haven’t and I’m starving.’
‘I thought I’d make you my world-famous nachos tonight. Is that okay?’
‘Perfect.’ She smiled. ‘It’s not fair, you know all my weaknesses.’ Their Twitter conversations revolved around food almost as much as books.
‘I do,’ he said, with an evil grin. ‘I’ll take all the unfair advantages I can get.’
‘Are your nachos really world-famous, though?’
He shrugged. ‘Well, Twitter covers the world, so I’d say yes.’
Claire smiled.
‘Now I’ll show you the rest,’ Mark said, and led her into the hallway.
After showing her the bathroom and his bedroom, he showed her into a second, smaller bedroom across the hall from his. ‘This is you. There’s an en-suite shower, or you can use the main bathroom. I’ve left you some towels. If you need anything else, just let me know.’
‘Thank you.’ Claire smiled at him. ‘This is lovely.’ She was so glad she had established the five-date rule, that she could get to know Mark without feeling anxious about having to fend him off and make excuses for not wanting to sleep with him.
‘Well, I’ll leave you to settle in, and I’ll make the nachos. When you’ve got yourself sorted out, come and join me.’
Claire quickly unpacked a few things from her case, washed her face and put on some mascara and lipstick. When she went back to the living room, Mark was in the kitchen area. A bottle of red wine was open on the counter. He poured a couple of glasses and handed one to her.
‘Have a seat,’ he said, gesturing to the sofa. ‘This’ll be ready in a couple of minutes.’
‘Thanks.’
The coffee table in front of the sofa was set with knives, forks, plates and napkins, and there were dishes of salsa, sour cream and guacamole. Moments later, Mark joined her, placing a large plate of nachos on the table.
‘Dig in,’ he said, handing her a plate.
‘Oh my God, these are amazing,’ Claire said. ‘They deserve their reputation.’
‘They live up to expectations?’ Mark smiled.
‘Definitely. If I wasn’t here incognito, I’d tweet about them right now.’
‘Speaking of incognito,’ he said, wiping his hands. He picked up a hardback book from the side table beside him and handed it to her.
She wiped her hands on a napkin before taking it from him. She gasped in pleasure, recognising the title. The author was Mark’s latest signing, and Claire was friendly with her on Twitter. ‘Thank you! I can’t wait to read it,’ she said, turning it over in her hands. ‘It sounds great.’
‘I hope you’ll love it.’
‘How did the launch go on Wednesday?’
‘Really well. It was fun. I got it signed for you,’ he said, nodding to the book.
‘Oh!’ Claire opened the book to the title page and saw that it was signed to @NiceGirl:
whoever you may be.
‘I said I could get it to you.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I’m dying to know what you think of it. Let me know when you’ve read it.’
‘I will.’ It pleased Claire that Mark valued her opinion.
They had become friendly on Twitter through chatting about books.
The first time Mark had tweeted her it was because she had been raving about the book she was reading, and it turned out to be one he’d just published.
Over time, they’d found they had very similar taste, and when they did disagree on something, Mark was always keen to hear her views.
She put the book on the arm of the sofa, and helped herself to more nachos, loading them up with sour cream, salsa and guacamole.
‘How’s your writing going?’ Mark asked. ‘How’s the novel coming along?’
‘Very slowly. I don’t have a lot of time, what with work and looking after my mum, and the blog is very time-consuming. But I’ve almost finished the first draft.’
‘Don’t forget to send it to me whenever you’re ready.’
The prospect of Mark reading her novel was exciting and also terrifying. She admired his taste and his opinion meant a lot to her. She’d hate it if he didn’t rate something she’d written.
‘I will.’ She took a gulp of her wine. ‘I just hope you like it.’
‘I can’t imagine not liking something you’d written.’
‘Well, it’s very different from the blog, obviously.’ If not quite as different as he thought. They were both fiction.
Mark forked the last of the nachos onto his plate. ‘What are you reading at the moment?’ he asked.
The talk turned to books, and the time flew by as they discussed what they’d read recently and writers they knew on Twitter or through work.
Mark shared some gossip about writers he’d met, and Claire told him about the ones who had held events in the shop, who was rude and obnoxious, who had turned out to be unexpectedly sweet and unassuming.
Suddenly it was after midnight and she found she was exhausted.
‘I’m going to have to call it a night,’ she said, yawning.
‘God, sorry – I didn’t notice the time.’
‘I didn’t either,’ she said. She had been so caught up in their conversation, she hadn’t noticed it getting late, or how tired she was.
‘Well, goodnight,’ he said, as he got up. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her slowly and lingeringly. ‘Help yourself to anything you need. I’ll see you in the morning.’
The next morning at breakfast, Mark announced that he was going to take her to ‘the most romantic place in London’, so she was more than a little alarmed when they turned up at the gates of Highgate Cemetery.
‘Seriously, this is where we’re going? A cemetery?’
‘I know – such a clichéd second date.’ Mark smiled.
‘Is there something I should know about you?’
‘Wait and see.’ He took her hand. ‘Unfortunately, we can’t just wander around on our own. You have to join a guided tour. Apart from that, the west cemetery really is the most romantic place I know in London.’
‘I knew you were too good to be true.’
But it turned out he was right, and Claire found herself completely enchanted as they walked along the twisting wooded paths among ivy-clad monuments and ancient crumbling tombstones watched over by winged angels.
Despite the presence of the tour group, the atmosphere was tranquil and ethereal, and it was like being transported back in time as they explored the dank catacombs and gazed in awe at colossal ornate mausoleums.
‘Okay, you were right,’ Claire whispered to Mark, as they walked along. ‘This is incredibly romantic.’
‘You like it?’
‘I love it! It’s so beautiful.’ She thought it was one of the most extraordinary places she’d ever been to, and she only wished they could have stayed longer. She could happily have spent several hours wandering around on her own.
They picked up bread and cheese at a deli on the way home, and had lunch in the garden as it was a warm, sunny day.
The errant Millie finally turned up, stalking imperiously across the grass to Claire and circling around her chair before trotting over to Mark and springing into his lap, where she curled up.
‘I think you’ve been maligning her,’ Claire said, nodding to the ginger tabby that was nuzzling Mark’s hand as he petted her. ‘She seems quite devoted.’
‘She’s just marking her territory because you’re here,’ Mark said, stroking Millie’s ears. ‘Bloody cat in the manger. Aren’t you?’ But his features softened as he looked down at her adoringly.
Claire rubbed her arms as the sky clouded over and the air turned chilly.