by Amanda James
Harry’s eyes become intense, holding my gaze until it’s me who has pink cheeks. ‘It’s more than that. As you know I find you very attractive and love being in your company, Sam. Can I take you out for dinner tonight?’
I shake my head and start walking again. I’ve noticed that Emily and Lydia have looked back a few times at us and I’m conscious that the whole writing exercise might be ruined if they see us chatting away. ‘Let’s leave it, Harry. We’re supposed to be silent,’ I say over my shoulder and pick up my pace.
Then I hear his feet thudding on the sand behind me, and he leans in, whispers in my ear. ‘Then say yes and I’ll shut up.’
The mischievous look in his eye makes me laugh when I don’t want to and to shut him up I say, ‘Okay, just dinner, yeah?’
He does a fist pump and a silly little dance on the spot. ‘Yes! Can’t wait.’ Then he sets off at a jog towards the ocean and leaves me wondering what the hell I’ve just done.
It’s late afternoon and the writing exercise has gone really well. We’re sitting round the log burner, having shared our writing and thoughts of how the day has gone and sipping hot chocolate. I settle back on the sofa and notice Lydia flashing me with her eyes and inclining her head towards the kitchen. I frown, and she mouths something unintelligible then goes to the kitchen. Harry and Emily are discussing their work, so I get up and follow Lydia.
Lydia’s in there leaning against the sink, her arms folded, a glint in her dark eyes. ‘Let’s be knowing then,’ she says in a low voice.
‘Knowing what?’ I mirror her pose.
‘What’s going on between you and Handsome Harry.’ She flashes a grin.
My heart sinks. Great – nothing gets past her. I rinse my mug out under the tap and decide to tell her. ‘He asked me out for dinner tonight at the Two Clomes and I said yes.’ I notice her eyes dancing in merriment. ‘And it’s just a dinner as friends, before you get any ideas.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘It is.’
‘So why not have dinner here with all of us? We’re all friends.’ Lydia raises an eyebrow and turns her mouth to one side.
She’s got me there. I heave a sigh and shrug my shoulders.
‘Dan will have something to say about that when he finds out.’ Marvellous, she’s noticed Dan’s attention to me in the short time she’s known him. Lydia’s really warming to this now. Her voice and manner are gossipy. All she needs is a garden fence.
‘Dan isn’t my boyfriend, Lydia.’ I run cold water into my mug and take a big gulp to cool my hot cheeks.
‘No, but he wants to be.’ She turns both corners of her mouth down. ‘It’s all right for some. You’ve two gorgeous men on the go and I’ve none. One marriage and two long-term relationships on the rocks behind me and no eligible male on the horizon at the mo.’
‘Lydia, believe me or not, I am not romantically involved with either of them and I don’t intend to be.’ I set the mug down in the sink. I want to be out of there, away from her scrutinizing gaze before I say something I don’t want to. ‘Okay, I’ll say my goodbyes to the others, I’m off for a bath. See you tomorrow.’
‘Okay.’ Lydia winks and gives me a playful nudge. ‘Have a wonderful evening with your… er… friend.’
Lydia’s treated to my best withering look as I flounce out the door. Once clear of the retreat though, I giggle. If the truth be told, which it won’t be, apart from to myself, I’m really looking forward to meeting Harry later. It’s such a long time since I’ve felt excited about going on a date with a man. Years and years. Then I remind myself it isn’t a date, it’s just dinner with a friend. Next, I sort through my wardrobe and panic about what to wear. Nothing too sexy, but nothing too staid. For goodness sake, Sam – just wear what you feel comfortable in. It’s dinner with a friend – just a friend.
The wine is going to my head faster than a speeding bullet. How could I have been so stupid to have two glasses on an empty stomach? Nerves, that’s why. Harry looks even more attractive in the soft glow of the low lights and open fire. He’s wearing a light blue shirt and dark trousers, smart casual, and he’s hanging on my every word as if I’m the most interesting person in the world.
The sharing starter of sun-dried tomato bread, feta cheese and olives arrive, and I fall on it like a starving dog. When I look up, I notice humour shining in his eyes and he points at my chin. There’s a dribble of olive oil on it and crumbs all over my low-cut lacy green top, I want to disappear into my seat. What must he think? I wipe the oil off and take another drink of wine. Oh dear.
‘Nice to see good food being appreciated,’ he says, tearing his bread in half between his even white teeth.
‘Yes, that’s what it’s for. Can’t see the point in picking at it to be polite.’ I give him a little smile and cast my eyes round the pub just to avoid his amused expression.
‘You look gorgeous tonight, Sam,’ he says and gives me a slow sexy smile.
I swallow. ‘Even with oil on my chin?’
‘Even with oil on your chin.’ Harry takes a pull from his pint, his eyes never leaving mine. Then he puts his glass down, smiles and his eyes crinkle at the edges. ‘In fact, it’s hard not to lean across and kiss you.’
Okay that’s it. I can’t talk like this on a half-empty stomach. I’m out of practice and feeling flustered. The thing is, I want to kiss him too.
Toilet.
Yes, that’s what I’ll do – go to the toilet and cool off a bit. I do a nervous laughter and excuse myself.
After a quick wee, I dab water on my face for a few minutes and check my make-up. Then I go back in the cubicle, put the lid down on the loo and sit on it, just to get my head together. I’m acting like a teenager on her first date. It’s time I started acting like an adult. If I want to kiss him I should just do it and get it over with. I’m free, single and apparently very attractive, so what’s stopping me? An image of Dan’s hurt face presents itself, so I flush it down the loo and walk back into the bar.
As I come around the corner I see a figure in a dark green hoodie and black jeans, his back to me bending over our table talking at close quarters with Harry. Harry looks angry, or is it fear on his face? What on earth? Then my way is blocked by three loud young men singing at the top of their lungs as they bustle out into the cold December night. When I start to the table again I see Harry’s alone. He’s staring at his pint but looks up as our main course is set down.
I sit down opposite, thank the waitress and ask Harry who he was talking to just now.
A shake of his head. ‘Oh, just some guy asking if I could give him a few quid. Some sob story about his kids having no Christmas presents.’
Harry prods a piece of fish around his plate but doesn’t eat. Something tells me he’s lying, or at least not telling me the whole truth. I stab a prawn. ‘And did you?’
He looks up absently, irritation in his eyes. ‘Did I what?’
‘Give him some money?’
‘No. Said I didn’t have enough on me.’
The change in Harry is unbelievable. He’s gone from an attentive, happy, flirty guy enjoying his evening, to being withdrawn, grumpy, even. I put a forkful of food in my mouth and speak out of the side of it. ‘Right. Well, he can’t expect anything else really, not just coming up to you when–’
‘Look do you mind if we cut the evening short, Sam? I’m feeling unwell, a bit of stomach ache. Hope it’s not a bug.’ Harry pushes his untouched plate away and folds his arms over his chest. His eyes dart around the place like an unsettled butterfly. Very shifty.
Now I know he’s a liar. And not a very good one. But what the hell is the matter with him all of a sudden? I lose my appetite and shove my plate to one side too. ‘Oh dear, that’s a shame. Shall we go now?’
‘Hey, finish your food first if you like.’
He sounds about as sincere as a used car salesman. ‘No, it’s fine. We’ll go. I’ll get the bill.’
‘My treat.’ He’s already standing up, wal
king to the bar. Harry looks perfectly all right to me – no sign of the stomach ache now.
‘Will you be okay to drive, you know with your stomach bug?’ I say at his shoulder as he hands over his credit card.
‘Err, yep. I’ll be fine after an early night, I suppose.’
I nod and slip my coat on thinking, yes, you will because there’s nothing wrong with you apart from whatever that man said while I was at the loo. I consider asking Harry outright what the real problem is as we drive back home but I can’t be bothered. If he wants to play weird games, he can play them with someone who gives a shit.
Harry walks down the side of my house to the retreat with only a brief goodnight to me. I pull my coat tight against the cold wind and put two fingers up behind his back. I fish in my bag for my keys and unlock the door to my house – just as Lydia pops out of the darkness dressed in pyjamas and a duffle coat. ‘Bloody hell, Lydia, you scared the poop out of me!’
‘Sorry! I’ve been waiting to ask how your date went but saw Harry’s long face as he came in.’
‘Yes, it was a bloody disaster. Do you mind if I go in now, I’m cold and tired?’ I push open the door and hope she’ll take the hint. I’m in no mood for a chat even though she is a lovely woman.
‘Oh that’s a shame…’ She shifts the weight from one leg to the other, her normally pleasant expression replaced by anxiety. ‘Dan didn’t show up by any chance, did he?’
I turn on the threshold, frown at her. ‘Dan? No, why?’
A look of relief washes the anxiety away. ‘Oh that’s good. I was worried that Emily put her foot in it when he came over earlier.’
‘Dan came over? But he’s still in Sheffield.’
‘Came back early. He wanted to check how we all were and asked where you and Harry were. I was about to say I didn’t know, but Emily said you’d gone out for a meal together. She hasn’t twigged that Dan’s in love with you, so didn’t think it was a problem. I’d told Emily the pub you were going to earlier and she told him that too.’
I close my eyes and picture the hooded man again. Could it have been Dan? Doubtful. I’d never seen him in a hoodie and he looked smaller somehow. But there again, I’d only seen him for a few seconds, and he was leaning over… It was possible. I open my eyes and smile at Lydia. ‘Don’t worry about it, Lydia. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, Now off to bed with you!’ I pretend to scutch her round the ear, and she laughs and says goodnight.
I pick up my phone and almost press Dan’s number but decide against it. I’ll ring him in the morning, sound him out. I’ll speak to bloody Harry first though, I want an explanation. I don’t give a shit about a relationship, but I need to know what on earth happened. Though right now, all I want to do is have a shower, take my make-up off and this ridiculous too-sexy top, and get a good night’s sleep.
A good night’s sleep evaded me, because I was too busy lying awake and puzzling over last night’s debacle. So, at eight thirty I’m up and dressed and striding down the path to the retreat. I knock on the door and Emily opens it. ‘Hi, Emily, I just want a quick word with Harry before we start today’s Q&A session.’
I go to step inside, but she shakes her head. ‘You’ll have a job, Sam. He packed up in the early hours and left.’
20
Voicemail again. I chuck my phone at the sofa cushion and curse out loud. Harry’s too cowardly to even speak to me on the phone – unless he’s on the motorway of course. I’ll give him a few more hours and try again, though I know in my heart he won’t answer. Emily and Lydia found a note propped up next to the kettle when they got up. I unfold it and read it again, hoping to find a clue in the scant explanation that I missed the first few times.
Morning girls,
Sorry to cut my time here short, but I have to go home – family stuff. Loved meeting you both – promise to keep in touch! Xx
No clue. I remember Dan saying Harry was divorced and had a ten-year-old daughter who he shared custody of. Perhaps there was something wrong with her? Yeah right. Perhaps the moon’s made of green cheese too. I sink down on the sofa and go over the morning’s events. Lydia wanted to know chapter and verse what happened last night to see if it had a bearing on Harry’s premature departure, but I couldn’t go into it. I just said we’d not really got on and let’s leave it at that. I can’t face a Q&A session either.
Aware I’m picking at the skin of the side of my nails, I busy myself with cleaning the kitchen. An unsettled churny feeling is giving me indigestion and it’s because I can’t think straight. Perhaps I shouldn’t have spilt it all to Helena when she phoned earlier, but I needed an ear. She said it was a shame about Harry, and she wouldn’t be surprised if Dan had been the hoodie man or at least sent a hoodie man to warn Harry off. She ought to be a writer with that imagination. Dan wouldn’t go to those kinds of lengths, would he? Actually paying someone? My children really dislike Dan. I can see why to a point, but they don’t know him like I do. She told me to have a day off – that there was no obligation to do anything for the retreat. I know she’s right, but I hate letting people down. I’ve no enthusiasm today though, so what’s the point? Tomorrow’s their last day, so I’ll make it up to them then.
On the balcony, I wrap a woolly blanket around my coat, jam a hat on my head and pull on gloves. It’s one of those crystal-sharp December afternoons but as cold as death. The cliffs sheltering the beach are stark against the thin blue sky and the sea is deeper than sapphire. This view never fails to take my breath away and despite recent events, I do feel positive and on the up. Harry’s still not answering his phone, so he can piss off, but Emily and Lydia have made great progress and thoroughly enjoyed their time here and my input. Just one cloud is on the sunny horizon – a phone call to Dan, I can’t do it in person, it’s too embarrassing. He might be hurt too if he’s had nothing to do with Harry’s change of mind and I can’t bear looking into his sad eyes.
‘Hey, Sam.’
Oh dear. He sounds flat, off-hand. ‘Hi Dan, how was Sheffield?’
‘Sheffield is Sheffield and business is business.’
Dan sighs and I can hear the TV in the background. Must be at his holiday cottage. ‘Right, yeah. So are you coming over to say goodbye to the guests?’
‘No. I’m too busy,’ he snaps.
‘What on earth’s up with you?’ I say indignantly, knowing full well the answer, but I don’t know how to broach it.
‘If you must know, I’m hurt that you went out for dinner with that knob Harry.’
His voice is quiet but the bitterness in it could curdle milk. ‘I see. How did you know?’
‘Emily told me.’
‘Hmm.’
‘I knew he had the hots for you, but I honestly thought you had feelings for me, and wouldn’t have fallen for his debatable charms.’
‘I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t behaved as if you bloody own me! We aren’t in a relationship, Dan, and it annoys me that you think you have any say in what I do with my life!’ That’s a surprise. I hadn’t intended to say any of that, nor to yell down the phone.
‘Right, so you went out with him to piss me off – teach me a lesson, eh?’
I watch a middle-aged couple walking in the sea, holding hands, splashing through the waves in their wellies and I think about what he said. He’s probably right, but I did fancy Harry too. I liked the attention and–
‘Sam?’
‘To an extent, I suppose, yes.’
‘Hmm. So… you wanted to make me jealous? That’s encouraging.’
The smile in his voice rankles and I remember why I phoned. ‘It’s all immaterial now anyway because he’s buggered off. He was fine at dinner last night until I went to the loo. When I came back, there was some guy in a hoodie talking to him, but before I could see who it was, some drunken hooligans blocked my way and the hoodie man had gone. Harry said he was just after change to buy his kids Christmas presents, but Harry had altered. He’d become irritable, distant… we left the food and came
home.’
‘Really? Told you he was a knob. Thrilled that it was a disaster though.’
Dan sounds genuinely surprised, but then he’s a good actor. ‘You don’t know anything about this hoodie man, do you?’
‘Eh? Like what?’
‘Er it wasn’t you, was it? Or did you send someone to warn Harry off?’ Heat creeps up my neck as I cringe at my words.
Dan laughs. ‘Can you see me in a hoodie? And I might be jealous and pissed off that you went out with Harry, but would I go to those lengths? It’s not my style.’
I know he wouldn’t. For one thing his pride wouldn’t let him. And can I see him in a hoodie? ‘Sorry, Dan. It’s just that when you said Emily told you I was out with Harry, I thought you might have come to find me and…’
‘Please. Give me some credit. I’m desperately in love with you, but I’m not desperate enough to do something like that.’
‘No. I don’t suppose you are.’
‘Give me a few hours to finish some work and I’ll pop over. I’ll bring a bottle of wine and cook us something at yours. You’ve yet to sample my culinary arts.’
This is a bad idea. I’m feeling vulnerable and I might not have the strength to keep pushing Dan away. ‘I was planning on an early night, actually. I’m going to do some writing and have a long bath after dinner.’ The couple on the beach are kissing and I have to look away. There’s an ocean of tears filling my eyes and a lump forms in my throat.
‘Okay. Perhaps another time,’ Dan says, the defeat in his voice obvious.
‘Yes, see you, Dan.’
‘Not if I see you first,’ he says quietly and ends the call.
We used to say that often to each other when we were going out all those years ago. It was one of our daft jokes. The poignancy of that and the couple on the beach kissing adds to the lump, and I feel hot tears pouring down my cheeks. Angry with myself, I dash them away and set off for the study. A good dose of cheery Christmas writing is what’s needed. A shame I didn’t start Christmas in Cornwall in the spring as I could have published it this Christmas. Never mind, next year will have to do. There’re more ideas buzzing for my next novel too. Just all a bit tangled up at the moment – like my heart strings.
