The Switch(33)

‘Whoa, whoa, whoa!’ Fitz swipes my slippers up from beneath the coffee table before I can put them on. ‘You are not wasting that killer blow-dry on an afternoon in,’ he says, waving a warning finger at my hair. ‘You look like a million dollars, Mrs Cotton, and you have to meet this Tod guy!’

I told Fitz about my impending date last night. Or rather, this morning – I was getting up to start the day and he was coming in from an evening out on the town. He seemed rather the worse for wear – it was half past five in the morning – so I’d assumed he wouldn’t remember the conversation, but unfortunately his memory is better than I’d hoped.

I shift uncomfortably on the sofa, my best pleated skirt digging into my hips. My back twinges. ‘I’m too old for this,’ I tell him. ‘I can’t be doing with these …’ I wave a hand at my stomach.

Fitz smiles slyly. ‘Butterflies?’ he says.

‘Oh, nonsense,’ I tell him, but I can’t come up with a better alternative.

He shifts up next to me on the sofa. ‘Now, I don’t know you very well, Eileen, but I know Leena, and the impression I get is that many of Leena’s qualities come from you. And Leena hates failing at things.’

‘This isn’t failing!’ I protest.

‘You’re right,’ Fitz says, ‘you’ve got to try in order to fail. And you’re not even trying.’

I bristle. ‘I know what you’re doing,’ I tell him.

‘Is it working?’

‘Of course it bloody well is. Now hand me those shoes, please.’

*

I nearly lose my nerve again on the journey to the café. I even open my mouth to tell the cab driver to turn back. But as we crawl through the traffic, a woman cycles by with dark curls beneath her helmet, and I think of Carla. She’d love seeing her old grandma going on a date. And I bet she’d tell me it’d be a crying shame to let a handsome West End actor slip through my fingers.

I worry about finding Tod in the café, but in the end he’s not difficult to spot. He stands out the way wealthy people stand out everywhere: his clothes hang a little too perfectly from his frame, and his skin has a glow to it, as though he’s wearing make-up.

Oh, he is wearing make-up. Well I never – I suppose he must have just come from the theatre, but still … What would Wade say?

‘Eileen?’ he asks me. I realise I am peering at his face, and feel myself blushing. That’s the second time I’ve blushed this week. I must get a grip on myself.

‘Yes,’ I say, stretching my hand out to shake his.

He gets up to pull my chair out for me. He moves very nimbly for a man of his age, and I catch a waft of cologne as he comes past me. It smells of woodsmoke and oranges, and I’d say it’s probably every bit as expensive as his dark wool coat.

‘You are just as beautiful as your picture,’ he says, settling back in the chair across from me with a smile. His teeth are startlingly white.

‘Now, I know that’s not true, because my granddaughter chose that picture, and it’s at least ten years out of date,’ I say. I wince at how prim I sound, but Tod just laughs.

‘You’ve not aged a bit,’ he assures me. ‘Coffee?’

‘Oh, I’ll …’ I reach for my purse, but he waves me off with a frown.

‘My treat. Please, I insist. A flat white?’

‘A … Sorry, I beg your pardon?’

‘Would you like a flat white?’

‘I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about,’ I tell him.

He roars with laughter. ‘Oh, I think you are going to be very good for me, Eileen Cotton.’

I really don’t see what’s funny, but I smile anyway, because he’s very handsome when he laughs. And the rest of the time, too. At first the make-up is a little disconcerting – his skin looks rather strange, being all one colour like that. But I seem to be getting used to it.

‘A flat white is a type of coffee,’ Tod explains, waving down a waiter with one expert hand. ‘Trust me, you’ll love it.’

‘I’ll give it a go, then,’ I say, and Tod orders the drinks. He’s much less intimidating than I expected, and I feel myself relaxing as he jokes with the waiter, smoothing his hair back from his forehead as he speaks.

‘Now,’ Tod says, turning his attention to me. He flashes an extremely charming smile. ‘As far as I’m concerned, we’re too old to mess about. I’m going to put my cards out on the table.’

‘Oh, right,’ I say. ‘Well, that’s good?’

‘I’m not looking for a serious relationship,’ Tod says. ‘I was married once, to a truly wonderful woman, and they were the happiest years of my life – I have no interest in trying to replicate them because they cannot be replicated.’

‘Oh,’ I say, rather moved, despite his perfunctory tone. ‘Well, that’s very romantic, actually.’

Tod laughs again. ‘What I’m looking for, Eileen, is a bit of fun.’

‘A bit of fun?’ I narrow my eyes slightly. ‘In the interests of putting our cards out …’ I tap the table between us. ‘Could you be a little more specific?’

He reaches to take my hand across the table. ‘May I?’ he says quietly.