by Emma Jackson
‘D’you remember the last time we were here?’ Ben turned just enough in his seat, so he was facing my way as well as towards Rachel. ‘We were all still at uni. We’d met up for a reunion with a bunch of others hadn’t we? Joe and Lauren and that lot.’
‘That’s right. You were trying to convince Vic to let bands play in here or at the very least get a juke box weren’t you?’ Rachel tucked her blonde hair behind her ear.
I did remember that night. Or most of it. We’d been twenty and I’d been very drunk. It was an on-going argument Victor and I used to have, and it always ended the same way, because I knew he couldn’t fit a band in there really and he always offered for me to go solo. I wasn’t a solo person – I only ever wanted to play for an audience as part of a band. Too many examinations and performance gradings while I was training had made it feel like work to play on my own and I just wanted music to be fun, lifting people up and joining them together.
Playing when I was alone was different – often that felt like a private conversation between me and my dad, explaining how I was feeling through the music. I missed my guitar. I don’t think I’d ever gone so long without playing.
‘Yeah, that was fun,’ I conceded.
‘Vic is doing his New Year’s Eve party again – you could come along and meet us. A bunch of others will be here too – it’ll be like another reunion,’ Ben said.
‘I’ll have to let you know. My friends are having an engagement party in London on New Year’s Eve too.’ I rolled up the sleeves of my jumper, feeling hot and itchy from the wool. I looked around the room to see if Stephen was on his way back yet but was blocked by a sea of knitwear. I caught a flash of bright red hair not far away – was that Noelle? But the crowd shifted again, and I lost sight of her.
‘Of course, an engagement party is a once-in-a-lifetime thing.’ They exchanged one of their patented lovey-dovey gazes as they reminisced telepathically about their engagement party.
‘Supposedly,’ I muttered and then heard it back to myself. Wow, I really was turning bitter and into a complete party pooper. It was suddenly hitting me hard though, that Peter was supposed to be here with me now, sitting in this warm, noisy pub, enjoying the fayre. Ben and Rachel should have been meeting him, not Stephen, and we would have been making arrangements for how we wanted to celebrate the New Year together.
That was how I had imagined it anyway. The truth as to how it really would’ve gone? It would’ve been far more likely that he’d have been annoyed at me for something I couldn’t fathom – because he still hadn’t told me about his business folding – and I’d have been struggling to cheer him up and put on a front to my old friends, so they didn’t worry about what his problem was.
‘How long have you got left again?’ I nodded at Rachel’s stomach, trying to turn the conversation around.
‘Oh, two weeks.’ She smiled and gave the curve of her belly a gentle rub. ‘Two more weeks of growing.’ She blew out a shaky breath and shifted around on her seat a bit. ‘Hard to believe he – or she – could get any bigger.’
‘Well, you look amazing. You’re glowing,’ I told her and it wasn’t really a lie. Okay she looked enormous and knackered too but very happy – if a little scared. And who could blame her? The prospect of giving birth was terrifying to me and I didn’t have an eight-pound baby sitting on top of my cervix.
‘Thank you.’ She bit her lip and looked over at Ben. He mouthed the word ‘beautiful’ and his thumb rubbed reassuringly over hers where they were still holding hands. I simultaneously wanted to barf and cry. Where was Stephen with that whisky?
‘Great, you found the table.’
Ah, wonderful, there he was.
Oh, crap, there he was.
He moved in between our table and Ben and Rachel’s and took the seat opposite me, setting two glasses and a bottle down and sending one of his toothpaste-commercial smiles in my direction. ‘Is this okay?’ He lifted the bottle, displaying the label to me as he unscrewed the top.
‘I’m sure it’s great, thanks.’ If he’d wanted me to choose, maybe he should’ve let me go buy my own. I’d asked for one drink and he’d bought a whole bottle of what looked like very fancy, expensive stuff, not to mention that he’d paid the price based on the number of shots in the bottle. That was a lot of money. It needled me. Maybe I didn’t want to drink whisky all night? And I certainly wasn’t going to feel obligated to because he’d made that decision for me and spent a ridiculous and unnecessary sum to look flash. Peter used to do things like that all the time – buy expensive clothes for me that I didn’t really like and then I’d feel like I had to wear them, or I’d seem ungrateful.
Or, you know, maybe I was being hypersensitive, Stephen had just bought the bottle so we didn’t have to keep going up to the crowded bar and he was trying to impress me a bit. This was the reason trying to date people too soon after the end of a relationship was a bad idea. You couldn’t give people a fair go; you were too effed up still with all your old relationship junk.
‘Ooh, that’s the good stuff.’ Ben let out an appreciative whistle and then dropped a wink at me. ‘There’s a man who likes to treat his lady companions well.’
I wanted to die. No. I wanted to take the bottle of whisky and run. Maybe go drink it by one of the bin bonfires, like a grizzled old vagrant in a film.
‘Thank you,’ Stephen managed to sound only slightly perplexed at Ben’s intrusion and then his charm was back on a full-frontal assault. ‘Would you care for a glass?’
‘That’d be fantastic, if you’re sure?’
‘Of course. See it as a thank you for saving the table for us.’
‘Thanks.’ Ben drained his glass of whatever he’d been drinking and passed it over. ‘It was our pleasure, especially when we realised it was Beth you were waiting for.’
‘Sorry?’ Stephen crooked an eyebrow as he concentrated on pouring a generous amount into Ben’s glass and passing it over. ‘You know each other?’
‘We went to school together.’ Ben took the glass and pointed between himself, Rachel and I. ‘All three of us. Not seen Beth for a while though. She’s just moved back haven’t you? From London. So, is that where you met?’
‘No. Stephen’s staying at the hotel,’ I offered, just purely to feel like I was actually taking part in this date, even if I didn’t want to be.
‘Oh, I see. You’re here on holiday?’ Ben took a sip and smacked his lips. ‘Still. London’s not so far away is it? Though we didn’t see you much when you lived up there did we?’
‘Ah-hah, so you lived in London?’ Stephen poured a drink for me and passed it over, a mischievous twinkle in his dark eyes. ‘That might account for the prejudice.’
‘I don’t have a bad opinion of London.’ I wrapped my fingers around the glass. It was a double measure, thank goodness, but I resisted the temptation to knock it straight back. ‘I’m just not keen to go back anytime soon.’
Things went quiet in our corner of the pub. I heard that back and realised how it sounded, given that I was on a date with someone who lived in London. My cheeks started to burn but I couldn’t see any way to dig myself out of that faux pas without lying and making out that I did want to see him in the future.
‘Well, that’s understandable,’ Ben offered, in what I think he imagined was a gallant way. Then he proceeded to throw me under the bus that I’d accidentally stuck my thumb out for. ‘The end of a long-term relationship is hard to get over. But a date with Stephen here is a step in the right direction isn’t it? You must have something special to have enticed Beth out. You’re the first—’
He broke off with a sudden jump and bent to rub his shin, looking over at Rachel with a hurt look on his face. She shook her head at him sternly and I almost laughed. I mean, it was mortifying that he had just spilled most of the tragic story of my love life to Stephen, but at the same time, I’d been intending to tell him anyway so I could make a swift exit. At this rate, Stephen would be making his own excuses and lea
ving soon.
‘I’m quite tired, Ben,’ she said. ‘Maybe we should start walking home. I could do with an early night.’
‘Right, sure.’ He nodded and downed his second glass of alcohol in the space of ten minutes. That cold night air was going to hit him hard when they stepped outside the pub; I hoped Rachel didn’t end up having to carry him. ‘Well, thanks again for the drink, and Merry Christmas.’
Stephen rose from his seat and shook Ben and Rachel’s hands as they stood up to leave, wishing them Merry Christmas. When I gave them hugs goodbye too, I whispered ‘thank you’ in Rachel’s ear.
We settled back down at the table and I found Stephen watching me with an expression on his face that I couldn’t figure out. Maybe curious, maybe calculating? I didn’t know him well enough to pin it down. A group of people moved in to take the table Ben and Rachel had left and when Stephen looked over between me and them, I leaned forward to stage whisper: ‘It’s okay, I don’t know them. You can relax.’
‘Thank God. Are people around here always so disrespectful of others’ privacy?’
I cocked my head slightly at the incredulity in his tone. As much I hadn’t wanted Ben and Rachel sitting in on our date, he’d asked a favour of them, and they knew me.
‘It’s not like they were a couple of strangers who muscled in on us and demanded a drink. I’ve known them for years and they’re lovely. Everyone around here knows each other – you can’t help it in such a small community.’
He leaned forward, bringing his head in close to mine and gave me another easy smile, oblivious to my defensiveness…or maybe unconcerned. ‘Doesn’t that drive you insane?’
Yes, yes, it did sometimes. But I wasn’t going to tell him that. I gave a one-shouldered shrug and settled back in my seat, getting the distance between us once again. ‘That would presume I wasn’t insane to start with.’
He laughed. ‘But seriously, what made you choose to come back down here, rather than stay in London? Is it too fast-paced for you? Not friendly enough?’
‘I presume you’re referring to the way everybody is always in a hurry because their lives are obviously so much more important than yours?’
‘That’s another way of putting it. There are a lot of people with important jobs in London, though.’
‘Everybody’s life is important. And even if you are CEO of a multi-national company, ten seconds waiting patiently at the tube barrier, while a tourist figures out how to use their ticket, isn’t going to kill you is it?’
He rolled his eyes. ‘And I suppose nobody ever gets impatient or feels self-important out here in the countryside?’
‘Only if they’re visiting from London.’
He stared at me for a moment, before laughing loudly like he’d made the decision I had to be joking. I gave him a small, sharp smile in return. I didn’t really hate London. It was a beautiful city, full of culture and interesting, diverse people, and it was amazing to be able to get a latte on the corner of most streets…but his smug London-is-the-centre-of-the-universe attitude got my back up.
I took a large gulp of amber liquid and it slid like nectar down my throat.
‘What d’you think?’ He pointed to my glass.
‘Ben wasn’t kidding. It’s lovely,’ I admitted, trying to smooth down my ruffled feathers.
‘One of my clients owns the distillery. It’s a beautiful process they use to get such a delicate balance of flavours. I got to taste this one before the blend was perfected when I visited them in Scotland.’
‘Wow,’ I picked up the bottle to study the label. Scottish Highlands and a waterfall were pictured on the front. Was he just offering me a line? Anyone could look at a bottle, see it was made in Scotland and pretend they’d been somewhere. But there was no reason to think he was lying, other than my own paranoia. Since discovering Peter had lied to me about so many little things, for so long, to keep up the pretence that his business was fine, my bullshit detector was dialled up to eleven. How was I ever going to trust a man’s motives again? How was I ever going to trust a man again, full stop? ‘Do you travel a lot, visiting clients?’
‘Sometimes.’ His knee brushed mine beneath the table and it made me jump. Unfortunately, it was in a nervous kind of way, rather than an excited way. This guy was a serious flirt and whatever had reawakened my libido yesterday when I’d seen Nick had gone back to sleep again. ‘Enough to keep life interesting but I’m not constantly out of the country.’
‘Not like your brother.’ The words slipped out my mouth before I’d even processed them in my brain. Why was I bringing up Nick?
‘Well, no. I take it you know he’s a pilot?’ I just gave a quiet nod, not trusting myself to say anything else. ‘It would be hard to travel as much as someone who flies planes for a living,’ he added dryly.
Guess I’d touched a nerve with him now. Geez, this date was going badly. I know I hadn’t been on one for a while but still, signs were pointing to the fact that Stephen and I just didn’t gel unless he was going out of his way to charm me. I didn’t want flattery, I wanted sincerity. I took another sip of my drink and decided I might as well call time on the whole thing.
‘I’m sorry, Stephen. I never should’ve agreed to come out with you. I’m sure you got the gist from Ben, not to mention my own special brand of foot-in-mouth disease, but I’m just out of a four-year relationship and I’m not ready to date yet.’
He nodded and his eyes studied my face for a moment. ‘Why did you say yes then?’ Thankfully, there was no annoyance in his tone, just curiosity.
‘Hard to say.’
He snorted. ‘Gee, thanks.’
‘You don’t need to go fishing for compliments.’ I shook my head. ‘Obviously you’re good-looking and charming et cetera, et cetera, but…honestly, I have a tendency to leap without looking. I can be spontaneous. It’s a problem. I’m sorry I didn’t think it through, and it’s led to me giving you the wrong impression.’
‘Okay. I hear you. But how do you know that this is too soon? I mean, you haven’t given it a chance yet. We’re both here. We have some nice whisky and a warm place to sit and just…get to know each other. There’s no pressure. It could be just what you need to get you back in the game.’
‘Are you offering to be, like, a rebound date for me?’
‘Hey, I’ve got nothing better to do and you’re a very beautiful girl.’ He let his eyes rove over my face again and settled on my mouth before he looked me in the eye again. ‘And, FYI, telling me that you’re impulsive is not exactly a turn-off.’
Part of me felt a little thrill at the prospect. Here was a very well-put-together man who was offering to – what – have a holiday fling with me? That was flattering I supposed, but it was also a bit demoralising. I had no doubt that when I said no – because I would – he’d turn his discerning eye on the people crowded in the pub and find another ‘very beautiful girl’ who would suit him just as well.
‘Thank you. I think. But I wasn’t trying to turn you off. I was just telling you that nothing more is going to come of this. Regardless of how horny and bored you are.’
‘Ouch.’ He laughed loudly and clapped a hand to his chest. ‘You certainly have a way of cutting to the quick, Beth.’
I grimaced, remembering that I was going to have to see him every day over Christmas. ‘No hard feelings?’
‘Of course not.’ He raised his glass. ‘It’s been an interesting evening, much more interesting than I anticipated when I knew this was where I was spending Christmas. So, cheers.’
‘Cheers.’ I clinked my glass to his and took another sip. That whisky must’ve been strong because I was beginning to feel the warmth seeping through my muscles, relaxing them. He was an all right kind of a guy but I’d had my fill of silver-tongued city slickers. ‘Not your first pick for a holiday destination then?’
‘No…my nan had the holiday booked; it was meant to be just her and my mum. Nan was going to surprise her, bring her down to this little chocolate-box
village, and have people wait on her hand and foot for a change.’ He glanced out the window as a shadow passed over his face.
‘What happened?’
He cleared his throat. ‘She passed away at the end of the summer. When we found out Nan was going to come on her own, we had to join her. I’d have much preferred a beach with no sign of Christmas whatsoever.’
‘Oh.’ My heart twanged. That chord inside that played the grief of losing my dad every time I heard someone else was suffering too. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Thank you.’ He finished his whisky and poured himself another. He paused before he put the bottle down and I could still see the sadness in his eyes, but he was putting himself in flirt mode too, with a cheeky grin that revealed a dimple in his cheek. ‘Sorry enough to stay with me for another drink? Offer me a shoulder to cry on?’
It was a bit of a low thing to do really – seeing if he could guilt-trip me into staying because I felt sorry for him – but people deal with grief in all different ways. I could let him have that one.
‘I should really head back – I have an early start in the morning. But I’ll stay if you want to talk.’
‘If I’m being one hundred per cent honest…talking isn’t really what I had in mind.’ He dropped a wink at me, and I had to laugh.
‘Well, good luck with that.’ I emptied my glass and stood up. ‘You’ll be okay?’
‘Of course.’ He rose to his feet too and helped me on with my jacket, settling his hands on my shoulders and looking down at me. ‘Goodnight, Beth. If you change your mind, you know where you can find me. Room Four.’
‘Goodnight, Stephen.’ I gave him a peck on the cheek and left.
As far as a first foray back into dating went, I suppose it could’ve been worse.
