I couldn’t help but laugh. I handed him his coffee. He took a grateful swig. ‘So. I was wondering … You up for another non-date some time soon?’
‘With or without an ambulance?’
‘Definitely without.’
‘Can we discuss problem teenagers?’ I found I was twirling a curly lock of nylon-fibre hair with my fingers. For crying out loud. I was playing with my hair and it wasn’t even my actual hair. I dropped it.
‘We can discuss whatever you like.’
‘What did you have in mind?’
His pause was long enough to make me blush. ‘Dinner? At mine? Tonight? I promise if it rains I won’t make you sit in the dining room.’
‘You’re on.’
‘I’ll pick you up at seven thirty.’
He was just gulping down the last of his coffee when Richard appeared. He looked at Sam, then at me. I was still leaning against the bar, a few inches from him. ‘Is there a problem?’ he said.
‘No problem whatsoever,’ said Sam. When he stood up, he was a whole head taller than Richard.
A few fleeting thoughts flickered across Richard’s face, so transparent that I could see the progression of each one. Why is this paramedic here? Why is Louisa not doing something? I would like to tell Louisa off for not being obviously busy but this man is too big and there is a dynamic I do not entirely understand and I am a little bit wary of him. It almost made me laugh out loud.
‘So. Tonight.’ Sam nodded at me. ‘Keep the wig on, yes? I like you flammable.’
One of the businessmen, florid and pleased with himself, leaned back in his chair so that his stomach strained the seams of his shirt. ‘Are you going to give us the lecture about alcohol limits now?’
The others laughed.
‘No, you go ahead, gentlemen,’ Sam said, saluting them. ‘I’ll just see you in a year or two.’
I watched him head off to Departures, joined by Donna outside the newsagent. When I turned back to the bar Richard was watching me. ‘I have to say, Louisa, I don’t approve of your conducting your social life in a work setting,’ he said.
‘Fine. Next time I’ll tell him to ignore the heart attack at gate fourteen.’
Richard’s jaw tightened. ‘And what he said just then. About your wearing your wig later on. That wig is the property of Shamrock and Clover Irish Themed Bars Inc. You are not allowed to wear it in your own time.’
This time I couldn’t help it. I started to laugh. ‘Really?’
Even he had the grace to flush a little. ‘It’s company policy. It’s classified as uniform.’
‘Damn,’ I said. ‘I guess I’ll just have to buy my own Irish-dancing-girl wigs in future. Hey, Richard!’ I called, as he walked back into the office, bristling. ‘For fairness, does that mean you can’t get jiggy with Mrs Percival while wearing your polo-shirt?’
I arrived home to find no sign of Lily, other than a cereal packet on the kitchen counter and, inexplicably, a pile of dirt on the floor in the hallway. I tried her phone, got no response, and wondered how you were ever meant to find a balance between Over-anxious Parent, Normally Concerned Parent, and Tanya Houghton-Miller. And then I jumped into the shower and got ready for my date that absolutely, definitely, wasn’t a date.
It rained, the heavens opening shortly after we arrived at Sam’s field, and we were both soaked even running the short distance from his bike to the railway carriage. I stood dripping as he closed the door behind me, remembering how unpleasant the sensation of wet socks was.
‘Stay there,’ he said, brushing the drops from his head with a hand. ‘You can’t sit around in those wet clothes.’
‘This is like the opening to a really bad porn movie,’ I said. He stood very still and I realized I had actually said the words out loud. I gave him a smile that went a bit wonky.
‘Okay,’ he said, raising his eyebrows.
He disappeared into the back of the carriage and emerged a minute later with a jumper and what looked like some jogging bottoms.
‘Jake’s joggers. Freshly washed. Possibly not very porn star, though.’ He handed them to me. ‘My room’s back there if you want to get changed, or the bathroom’s through that door, if you’d prefer.’