Million Love Songs(34)

‘Coming to the pub?’ Bob asks when he’s helped to haul me out of the shallow end. I’ll never get used to how heavy all this gear is.

‘Yes. That would be great.’ I’m feeling quite uplifted after my session and a nice glass of wine would just put the finishing touch to a good day. ‘I’ll see you down there.’

So we tidy away the gear and I have a long, hot shower which relaxes me even more. I’m in quite a blissed-out state by the time I hit reception and see Joe standing there.

‘Hey,’ he says. ‘I told Bob that I’d wait for you. We can walk to the pub together.’

‘OK.’ I can hardly cut and run now, can I? So we head out into the night and fall into step together.

‘How did the lesson go?’ he asks as we turn into the street.

‘Good. I’m feeling more comfortable with being underwater.’ That might be over-egging it, but I’m maintaining a positive frame of mind.

‘The theory of it all will start to kick in soon. That’s not so thrilling, but essential for safety.’ We walk along for a moment in silence and then he adds, ‘I thought I’d take over from Bob again next week. If you’re OK with that.’ He rushes on, ‘We buddied up quite well and that’s very important when diving.’

Hmm. That has the whiff of bullshit about it. I think I buddy up with Bob quite well, probably better as he’s not so distracting in the loveliness department. What he probably means is that he’d rather do the damsel-in-distress thing rather than deal with someone who’s beefier than he is.

‘Whatever you think is for the best,’ I say sweetly. Though, despite all my resolutions, I can’t deny lessons with Joe hold more attraction than with dear Bob.

Joe holds open the door and we step into the noise of the pub. ‘What can I get you?’

‘A small glass of red, please.’

As we stand at the bar and wait for our drinks, Joe clears his throat before he says, ‘I feel things ended badly after the dive day.’ He hesitates before adding, ‘I said some stupid things in the car. I wasn’t thinking straight.’

‘It really doesn’t matter,’ I say magnanimously. ‘All water under the bridge.’

‘How about I take you out to dinner by way of an apology? I have a rare free weekend. The kids are with Gina from Friday to Sunday. We could go somewhere nice. Your choice.’

What is it with men? They’re like buses. Nothing at all on the horizon and then two come along at once.

‘It sounds lovely and in normal circumstances, I’d be happy to.’ I’m maintaining a friendly air, but I also want him to know that, despite his U-turn, he’s too late for anything more. ‘However, I’m being whisked off to Paris this weekend.’

‘Oh.’ He looks taken aback. As well he might. I’m quite taken aback myself. ‘Paris, eh?’

‘I haven’t been before,’ I confess. ‘Though I’ve heard it’s beautiful.’

‘Well, I can’t possibly compete with that.’

‘It’s just with a friend,’ I add breezily. ‘We’re not in a relationship or anything.’ How very modern do I sound?

‘I hope you have a great time,’ Joe says, but he sounds unenthusiastic. ‘Shall we go and join the others?’

As we move across the pub to where the rest of the dive club are chatting, I feel that was churlish of me and, more than that, I’m weirdly disappointed that I turned down dinner with Joe even though it was absolutely my choice. At least I think it was.





Chapter Twenty-Nine





There’s a beautiful and ancient wood near where I live. Even better, there’s a little café tucked on the edge of it and I meet Charlie there for bacon butties the next morning. The sun is out in force bringing some meagre warmth to the spring day, so we brave it and sit outside on the terrace. They serve tea in mismatched china with decorative silver spoons that have place names on each one.

‘Blackpool,’ Charlie says and shows me the end of her spoon.

‘Brighton.’ I hold up mine.

‘I’ve been to neither place,’ Charlie says.

‘I’ve hardly been anywhere on this planet,’ I complain. Though I will be starting with Paris, very shortly. I keep my eyes averted so that Charlie doesn’t see guilt written large.

We tuck into our butties and, when she’s finished her mouthful, Charlie says, ‘How was diving?’

‘Good.’ I wipe some ketchup from my mouth. ‘I think I’m getting the hang of it now.’

‘And hot stuff instructor?’

‘Also good. I went to the pub afterwards and he asked me out to dinner.’

‘Cool. You said yes?’

‘I said no.’

‘Twit. Why?’

I shrug. ‘It’s complicated.’

‘The kids? The ex-wife?’

I nod. ‘Something like that.’ Then my phone pings, I dig it out of my handbag. It’s a text from Mason. All booked, ma chérie! Will send you the details later. M xx. As I slip my phone away again, I know that I look guilty. I just know it.

Charlie raises an eyebrow in query. ‘Hot stuff?’

‘No. Nothing exciting,’ I lie. ‘More tea?’