The Gin O'Clock Club

by Rosie Blake

  ‘Maybe I’ll become a whistle expert.’

  ‘Whist.’

  ‘Whatever.’

  The train was on time and we arrived in the main hall to see lots of round tables scattered around the room, four chairs at each, people milling between them. I craned my neck to see Grandad, Howard, Geoffrey or Arjun, but came up blank. On a large wooden easel by the doorway an A3 sheet of paper denoted our groups for the evening and there were also laminated name badges on a table on the other side.

  ‘Christ,’ Luke whispered, ‘it’s very organised, isn’t it. No escaping if you find out you can’t whistle.’

  I stared at him, mouth twitching as he grinned at me. ‘Also, we are seriously bringing down the average age of the room.’

  He was right: everywhere we turned there seemed to be white hair, walking sticks and bifocal lenses.

  ‘I suppose that’s to be expected,’ I whispered.

  ‘Funny idea of high romance.’

  We had been put on a table with two women called Margaret and Paula.

  ‘Stranger Danger!’ Luke sing-songed pinning his name badge on his jumper.

  ‘Ssh,’ I elbowed him.

  He looked good tonight, dressed in cream chinos and a maroon chequered shirt I hadn’t seen him in before.

  ‘Is that new?’ I asked, pointing at the shirt.

  ‘I bought it for our first old-person-style date,’ he said proudly puffing out his chest. ‘Gonna be taking this courting you seriously.’

  I felt a glow in my stomach.

  ‘Lottie, Luke – you made it.’ I jumped a little at Howard’s too-loud voice, turning to see him standing next to us dressed in red corduroy trousers and a blue and white striped shirt. ‘Nothing like our biannual whist drive to fan those flames,’ Howard said with a sarcastic eye-roll. ‘Teddy’s idea of your first date has a lot to be said for.’

  ‘I think it’s a good idea,’ Arjun said, looking equally smart next to him. ‘Hello, Lottie, hello, Luke. So, are you feeling lucky?’

  Luke cracked his knuckles. ‘Luck will have nothing to do with it, Arjun.’ Even though he hadn’t played the game before, Luke seemed irritatingly confident that he could win. Annoyingly, he probably would. He was horribly good at most things. My eyes narrowed as I stared at him, hoping the next time he ordered six Chicken McNuggets they only put in five.

  ‘We’ll see, we’ll see,’ Howard said, already looking over our shoulders at the gathering people. ‘Christ, the whole place has come out for the evening.’

  ‘Lottie, you OK?’ Luke asked me. ‘You’re in one of your dazes again. Who are you wishing bad things on?’

  I had the decency to flush. ‘No one. Let’s find our table.’

  Arjun dived behind me as I went to move away.

  ‘Argh, wait, shield me,’ he whispered. ‘That’s Cindy. She always corners me to talk about politics in Asia and I haven’t the heart to tell her I was born in Lincoln. She treats me like the Voice of the Common Indian and I find myself discussing caste issues and making up facts about the economy.’

  A woman nearby with a sharp grey bowl haircut was scouting the vicinity. Her eyes lit up as she clocked someone in the opposite direction.

  ‘I’d never even heard of the two main parties and I had to google them when I got home last time,’ Arjun was saying.

  ‘She’s moving away,’ I said out of the corner of my mouth.

  ‘Right,’ he whispered. ‘I’m making a run for it.’

  Giggling, I watched Arjun slink away along the wall, just missing Grandad and Geoffrey, who appeared next to me.

  ‘You’re here, excellent,’ Grandad said, hugging me.

  ‘And you’re on a good table,’ Geoffrey added.

  Grandad nodded. ‘That Margaret is a gem. And Paula is . . . ’ He tailed away as if he’d forgotten what he was saying.

  ‘Paula is . . . ’ Luke prompted.

  ‘Well!’ Grandad clapped his hands together. ‘It should be a great evening. You two better find your table. I’m playing with Geoffrey tonight so we are bound to lose.’

  ‘Hey,’ Geoffrey said, ‘I heard that.’

  ‘Did you turn your hearing aid on?’ Grandad looked surprised.

  Geoffrey folded his arms. ‘Do not divert things. I am good at whist,’ he said, bottom lip sticking out.

  ‘You’re satisfactory.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Fair.’

  Geoffrey glowered and Luke clearly thought it was a good time to move on. Placing a gentle hand on my back he moved me through the clusters of people. Near the small stage at the other end of the hall Howard was perched chatting to a glamorous-looking woman in a silver grey dress.

  One of the ladies was already sat at our table, iron grey hair pinned back with two hair clips just above her ears and a shy smile as we took our seats.

  ‘I’m Luke. You must be one of the opposition,’ he said, deliberately narrowing his eyes at her with a laugh. I felt immediately grateful for Luke and his ability to make strangers feel comfortable.

  ‘I am,’ the woman said. ‘Margaret.’ She pointed to the name on her chest before fiddling with a silver necklace at her throat.

  ‘I’m Lottie,’ I said, reaching across to shake her hand.

  ‘So, are you a bit of a whist expert?’ Luke asked, pulling out his chair.

  ‘Oh, no, I don’t know about that. I do enjoy it but there is so much luck involved in the cards, you see.’ Her voice was soft and she couldn’t quite maintain eye contact with either of us. She reminded me of a fragile bird that might fly away at the first fright.

  ‘Well, Lottie and I will no doubt be completely out of our dep—’

  A loud voice interrupted him. ‘If you’re partnering each other, you need to sit opposite each other . . . although’ – a large woman with a cloud of hair-sprayed, dyed blonde hair looked down at Luke – ‘I don’t mind you partnering me.’ She lifted a thickly pencilled eyebrow at Luke.

  I swallowed a laugh at Luke’s terrified expression. He opened his mouth, then shut it again.

  ‘All right, Mags,’ the hair-sprayed woman continued, pulling out an e-cigarette from a shiny scarlet handbag.

  ‘Hi, Paula,’ the other woman whispered.

  ‘Soooo, you’re Luke and Lottie.’ Paula pulled out her chair. ‘Hadn’t heard of you. No wonder, you’re about eighty years too young for this place.’ She took a long suck on her e-cigarette, hot pink lipstick puckered round the end.

  ‘I’m Teddy’s granddaughter, Lottie,’ I said, unused to seeing Luke so completely lost for words.

  Everyone had settled at their tables and there was a low hubbub of noise, the gentle shuffle of cards, coughing, laughter as people started to play. Paula had made us all get up and swap seats so I was now sitting opposite Luke, feeling him nudging me with a foot as we made eye contact.

  Paula leaned forward conspiratorially, her breasts resting on the table. ‘Want to make this all a little more interesting, if you know what I mean.’ She wagged her eyebrows. ‘A little bid whist?’

  ‘Oh I’m not sure, Paula—’ Margaret started to say before Paula gave her a look full of daggers and she fell silent.

  Luke came to her rescue. ‘We don’t know any whist, I’m afraid, not even regular whist,’ he said. ‘We’re whist virgins, so to speak. Never whisted before ever. I don’t even drive,’ he added.

  Paula sat back in her chair and raised her e-cigarette to her lips again. ‘You what now?’

  ‘Come on, Paula, let’s just play,’ Margaret said, fiddling with the necklace again.

  Paula leaned forward again. ‘Oh, come on, you lot. How about we make this worth our while? Dennis banned it a while back but he’s such a stick-in-the-mud. You only live once – am I right, Liam?’ She turned to Luke, eyes rounded.

  ‘It’s Luke, actually.’

  ‘Nah, you look more like a Liam,’ she said with a wave of her e-cigarette, ‘like that One Direction one who used to be with Cheryl. You should change it.’<
br />
  ‘Change my name?’

  ‘Why not?’ Paula took a drag, narrowing her eyes as if she was blowing out real smoke. ‘Luke’s a bit . . . a bit androgynous. I had a husband called Lester – that was the same problem. He played a ukulele.’ She circled a long nail around the rim of her glass. ‘That’s not even a proper guitar.’

  ‘Right, well, I’ll, um, I’ll think about it.’

  ‘So you’re Teddy’s granddaughter, are you?’ Paula said, turning back to me as if we’d never been interrupted. ‘That Teddy, he’s a gent.’

  I smiled, about to agree, when Paula continued.

  ‘. . . and he’s still got a good body. I always see him doing his lengths when I’m in my aqua aerobics and I try to time my sauna session for when he gets out.’

  ‘That’s, well, that’s good to know,’ I said, grateful to see wine on the table and reaching for a glass.

  Margaret had picked up the cards. ‘I’ll deal,’ she said, shuffling the pack like an expert. ‘We can explain the rules as we go along.’ She doled out thirteen cards to each of us.

  I sagged with relief, my grandad’s swimmer’s body safely tucked away in a place in my brain to which I would never venture.

  ‘Fine,’ Paula said, sitting back. ‘I suppose they’re learners so we’ll have to humour them.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Luke said, picking up his cards. ‘So, how do you play?’

  Margaret began explaining the rules, Paula interrupting when she didn’t think Margaret was being clear enough (which turned out to be most sentences), and we started to play.

  The first round went well, mostly because Paula won and the wine was flowing. I was getting the gist of the game. Luke was talking to Paula and Mags, and had somehow managed to tell them about the deal we had made with Grandad.

  ‘So I’m now courting Lottie the old-fashioned way,’ he said proudly.

  ‘And you’ve persuaded Teddy to date again,’ Paula said, her eager eyes swivelling over to Grandad’s table. There he sat, innocently. Should I send up a flare warning?

  ‘That sounds very romantic,’ Margaret said, smiling sweetly at me, two dimples appearing in her cheeks.

  ‘You need to get yourself a new man, Mags. First husband,’ she said, barely lowering her voice, ‘overbearing, dominated Mags here, didn’t he?’

  Margaret nodded slowly, a blush building. ‘He was quite forthright on occasion.’

  ‘Oh, don’t look now, Mags, but it’s Howard, he is such a dish. Hi, Howard,’ Paula cooed, almost spilling her white wine spritzer in an enthusiastic wave.

  Howard saluted her from his chair. He seemed to have about three wine glasses lined up in front of him and no cards. Paula made her excuses and headed his way. Luke went to fetch more wine.

  ‘Sorry’ – I turned to my right – ‘is it Mags or Margaret?’ I asked, liking this softly spoken woman with the kind eyes and not wanting to offend her by using the wrong name.

  ‘It’s Margaret. I always wanted to be Maggie actually,’ she added in a quiet rush, ‘but my parents wouldn’t let me and then I suppose it felt a little silly, changing it. Stephen, my husband, told me Margaret suited me. I was never sure what he meant by that.’ She trailed away, the flush creeping up from the bottom of her neck as she darted her eyes away.

  I wanted to reach across and grab her hand but instead I just said, ‘I don’t think it’s ever too late. If you want to be Maggie, you be Maggie.’

  She sighed, adjusting one of the clips in her hair. ‘Young women today are amazing,’ she said. ‘You’re so confident. You know what you want and you don’t mind saying it. Most of us never really spoke our minds. Feminism wasn’t for everyone and it’s a bit late to start now.’

  ‘I hadn’t looked at it like that. Sometimes I just feel completely exhausted wanting it all. You know: the job, the relationship, kids someday, hobbies, friends, family. Then I feel guilty because lots of women didn’t get to do all of this. Imagine the frustration, all that talent that we will just never know about.’

  We had failed to notice Paula had returned. ‘Talent. I know. I was just saying they keep dying on us. They’re quite literally a dying breed. There is no talent, Lottie. None. Well, your grandad and a couple of others but . . . ’

  ‘So, how do you two know each other?’ Luke asked, returning with drinks and oblivious to the steer in conversation.

  ‘Paula and I play golf together. She’s very good,’ Margaret said, nodding earnestly at Paula, who shrugged and drained the rest of her glass.

  ‘I am very good.’

  ‘Oh, my grandad plays golf. I’m sure he’d love a game.’

  ‘Well, the thing is, bar one morning a week the course here is men only so we have to get a minibus to the course a few miles away,’ Margaret explained.

  I thought I’d misheard her. ‘Er, one morning – is that really true? Are they aware it’s 2020?’

  ‘It’s not 2020 in Maplelands Club,’ Paula sniffed, looking around for Luke, who had gone to talk to Geoffrey.

  ‘No matter,’ Margaret said with a small wave of her hand. ‘What do you both do?’

  I wanted to find out a little more but instead I took another sip of my drink. ‘I’m a barrister, and Luke’s a graphic designer.’

  ‘But what do you do for fun?’ Margaret asked, her amber eyes focused on me.

  I paused, wine glass halfway to my lips. ‘Fun?’

  She gave me an encouraging smile and nodded.

  ‘Um, we, we live together. That can be fun.’

  Her smile was fading slightly.

  ‘And we sometimes go for a drink. Out, you know,’ I continued, knowing this all sounded pretty sad, even to me.

  Jeez, this woman who must have been about fifty years older than me had more of a buzzing social scene than I did. We go out for drinks. Edgy, Lottie, really edgy and cool.

  ‘Oh, sometimes we go to the cinema.’ I said it way too enthusiastically. Margaret was just giving me pitying nods now.

  Maybe Grandad had been right to get us to go along to these things. Luke was standing at the bar laughing with Geoffrey and Grandad and I felt my heart swell for him. When we had first started dating we had been out loads. We had gone bowling, we had gone to museum exhibitions, art shows, the theatre, comedy nights; we’d gone on day trips at weekends, punting in Oxford, surfing in North Devon. We’d even gone to Amsterdam on the Eurostar just to cycle and eat our way round the city. I remember clutching his arm as we had rolled, giggling, out of the Soho Theatre bar, a standup night that had gone horribly wrong when the audience turned on the poor comedian. We had planned these minibreaks and days away, taking the train, relishing just being in each other’s company.

  When had we stopped planning the adventures? Or had I stopped? Hadn’t Luke suggested we hire some bikes, cycle along the Thames only the other week? When had we last really spent any quality time together? Our conversations now revolved around the recycling (yes, the food recycling is gross but it makes the main bin so much less gross that it’s totally worth doing, and you really do feel you are doing a bit of good), the money we are saving for a deposit on a house that we are never going to be able to afford, discussions about whether you can really raise children on a houseboat (Luke thinks it would be slippery and ‘an accident waiting to happen’), facts about the Tube that day (usual theme: it’s disgusting – we both want to kill ourselves), how we should see that film/exhibition/show but then turn to Netflix for the eighteenth episode of a box set neither of us can remember.

  Margaret was still sitting beside me, politely waiting for my weird daydream to end. Was it my turn to speak?

  ‘So, yeah, we have loads of fun.’

  I looked over at Grandad, roaring with laughter at something Geoffrey was saying. Arjun and Howard had joined them too and I watched him, his friends surrounding him, Luke slapping him on the back.

  ‘Loads.’

  I was quiet on the journey back, mulling things over still, and distracted by the fact I needed
to go over what I was doing the next day. The evening hadn’t been a complete waste of time but I probably wouldn’t be joining the next biannual whist meet.

  It had been good to meet Margaret and we had swapped email addresses. I wanted to send her some links to websites and podcasts by inspiring women I thought she’d like. Subject heading: It’s never too late for feminism.

  Grandad had been a bit flustered as we were leaving. ‘This wasn’t really your crowd, was it? We shouldn’t have started it like that. Howard did warn me. Keep the faith, Lottie,’ he said, and the passion in his voice made me laugh and nod.

  Luke seemed to have enjoyed himself but then he could slip easily into most settings. If there was a vague excuse to be competitive and drink at the same time he was pretty content.

  ‘All right?’ he said, watching me change into my pyjamas and then wearily stack papers and folders in a pile to take through to the living room.

  ‘Fine.’

  ‘It wasn’t exactly the most romantic evening,’ he said, easing the papers out of my hands and moving through to the living room with them.

  ‘It was fine, not bad,’ I said, like a 3-star Trip Advisor reviewer.

  ‘It made me think, though,’ he said, placing the folders and papers on the table. ‘We should be doing more stuff together, shouldn’t we? That was the best part of the night, being slightly bored at times but being slightly bored and able to share that with you.’

  ‘So whistling not your thing?’ I said, trying not to look twitchy at the amount of paper I needed to look at tonight.

  ‘No, but I like this new project of your grandad’s. Let’s give it another go.’

  I pulled out the chair ready to take a seat and start work. ‘I’ll ask him what’s next.’

  Luke dipped down and kissed my shoulder. ‘Do. And don’t work too late,’ he said, with no real feeling, knowing full well he would be asleep long before I made it back to our bed.

  I watched him leave the room with a small, sad smile. He was right. We did need to spend more time together. Otherwise what was the point of being together at all?

  Darling Cora,

  Are you cross that I have agreed to date women in return for ensuring Luke and Lottie do more things together? I’ve been imagining that look you can give me, that arch of your eyebrow that could always put the fear of God into me. Those times were few but memorable: after I told you it would be extravagant to double-glaze all the windows in the house; when I was so unwell on New Year’s Eve I vomited in your window box, and when I sat you down and told you I wanted to retrain as a zookeeper. You know what you mean to me and it isn’t about me meeting someone else, I couldn’t meet someone else, there is no one else but I want to play along, I want to show willing so that Lottie continues to play along too. But I am aware I haven’t really asked your permission. You won’t start haunting me horribly or send down your mother to do it for you?