Million Love Songs(66)

Tom hasn’t even opened his menu yet. ‘A burger.’

‘What kind?’

He shrugs. ‘Don’t care.’

This is my one day off in two weeks when it has actually coincided with seeing Joe and this is my big chance to impress his children. So far, it’s not going well. They seem to have decided that they hate me and I haven’t even done anything yet.

The sun is beating down outside and we’re in a noisy, busy, air-conditioned restaurant that’s chilled to below zero and two of us are finding the food selection wanting.

Daisy slumps forward on the table, the exertion of choosing food apparently all too much for her. ‘Mum always lets me have the choc-a-lot cake instead of dinner.’

‘Well, I’m not your mum,’ Joe points out. ‘If you finish your main course, then you can have a pudding. Daisy, you’re twelve. You know the score by now.’

She closes her menu with dramatic finality and pushes it away from her as if it’s poisoned. ‘I’m not hungry.’

‘OK, but I’m not cooking later,’ Joe says. ‘I’ve got the ironing to do.’ He turns to me and grimaces. ‘It’s my most hated chore of the week. Ten school shirts for these two and five of my own for a kick off.’

I’m realising that I know nothing about his life. How little I appreciated all that he has to deal with or what it is for any single parent to manage their children alone. Now that they’re sitting here in front of me, reality punches me in the guts and I realise that they may be a mountain I’m unable to climb.

The waitress comes and, by some miracle, we all manage to order. Joe looks relieved. Under the table his hand finds mine and he gives it a reassuring squeeze which is very timely as every fibre of my being is telling me to get up and leave. However, I’ve resolved to give this tricky initial get-together my best shot. I have to remember that this is the first woman other than their mum that they’ve ever seen their dad with and it will take some coming to terms with. It’s all new to them as it is to me. But I am in his life whether they like it or not and we’re all going to have to find a way to deal with it.

I take a deep breath before I say, ‘So what kind of music do you guys like?’

They look at me aghast and a profound silence descends on the table.

‘Daisy?’ Joe prompts.

Her look says whatever and she still doesn’t reply.

‘You love Taylor Swift and Harry Styles, don’t you?’ he presses on.

‘They’re OK,’ she says with disdain. ‘A bit childish.’

‘Tom?’ Joe gives his son a direct look. ‘Ruby asked you a question.’

‘Grim Sickers. MoStack. Lethal Bizzle. Stormzy,’ he answers flatly. Tom’s expression says you’re none the wiser, are you?

I wonder if he’s actually just made the names up. They’re certainly not on Radio 2.

‘It’s all a terrible noise,’ Joe says with an attempt at a lighthearted laugh. ‘Give me Coldplay any day. Something with a tune.’

‘I’ve recently become a big fan of Take That,’ I tell them brightly. ‘My friend is a huge fangirl and she started taking me along to gigs and stuff. Now I really like them.’

They both stare at me blankly.

I flounder around thinking of something else to say and fail.

Our food comes and the conversation, if humanly possible, is even more stilted. Joe makes a valiant effort at keeping it going and I try to chip in too, but it’s like talking to two brick walls. All my efforts are bouncing right back off them.

As we eat, my food nearly chokes me. Every question is met by a rebuff or outright stonewalling and it’s quite possibly the longest meal of my life. I knew this would be difficult, but I didn’t realise they’d be quite so deliberately hurtful. Don’t they want to see their dad happy again? Can’t they see that I’m making an effort here?

After the main course has been cleared away, Tom picks up his phone.

‘No phones at the table,’ Joe says.

His son, with a look that could curdle milk, puts it down again with an exasperated huff. Let him use the phone, I think. Let’s end this misery for all of us.

‘Anyone for dessert?’ Joe says, optimistically.

I turn to him and whisper, ‘I think I should be going.’

It’s the first time that I see the children smile.

‘Are you sure?’ His look of concern makes me want to cry.

‘Yes, you all enjoy the rest of your day.’ I go to stand up and he puts a hand on my arm.

‘Hang on.’ He faces his kids. ‘You’ve both been really rude to Ruby today and I’d like you to apologise.’

The children gape at him, faces full of unbridled hostility.

‘They’re not normally like this,’ he tells me. ‘They’re good kids. I don’t know what’s got into them.’

‘It’s fine,’ I assure him when it patently isn’t. ‘I have things I should be doing.’

‘I’ll walk you out.’ He wags an angry finger at his children. ‘You and I are going to have words when I get back.’

It only makes them sulk more.

‘Bye, Tom. Bye, Daisy.’

‘Bye,’ they mumble in unison and with equal amounts of grudging.