‘I am.’ But you can see why I don’t say anything about Mason or Joe or anyone of the male variety who crosses my path. I daren’t even tell her about cardboard cut-out Gary Barlow or she’d be looking at hats.
Still I’m glad that I have a supportive family, who are here for me. Like I said, they went through as much agony as I did when I divorced. My pain was their pain. It was truly awful to watch them suffer too. I couldn’t put them through that again. I feel for Mason who has a tyrant as a father and a judgemental family and for Joe whose parents live too far away from his young family to be able to help. I’m lucky. I know that.
I just wish my mother would chill out when it comes to me finding myself another future intended. I’d like to confide in her about Mason or chat to her about Joe and his kids or my attempts at scuba-diving, but I daren’t. It’s way too early. Even I realise that one heady kiss with Mason does not a boyfriend make.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Later that evening, I’m at the swimming pool again. I’m not keen and I think that’s probably written all over my face.
‘Hey,’ Joe says. ‘Good to see you. I did wonder if you’d come back for another go.’
‘I like to see everything through to the bitter end,’ I lie through my teeth. Honestly, I thought about turning round and going home when I got to the car park.
‘You’re enjoying it that much?’ Joe laughs.
‘I’m not sure that I’m a natural in the water.’
‘You’re doing fine,’ he says. Then he looks over his shoulder at the group of guys by the poolside. ‘I’ve paired you with Bob for tonight. He’s very experienced.’
I confess that I get a heart-sink moment. Of course, I thought that I’d be with Joe again. Why wouldn’t I be? Looks like he’s decided to play it cooler than me.
Bob comes over. I’m not being fatist, ageist or sexist or anything, but he’s a fat, old bloke. Actually, I probably am being fatist, ageist and sexist He’s bald too. Maybe that’s hairist. He has a nice smile and a friendly face though and I hang onto that thought.
‘Ready, love,’ he says and we go through the same procedure of getting into the pool. I still experience the same amount of terror. Though I care less about putting my bum in front of Bob’s face. We sink to the bottom and sit beneath the surface. When Bob squeezes my hand to check if I’m OK, I don’t feel quite the same thrill as when Joe did it. And that’s a good thing. That’s a very good thing.
I take more notice of the silt on the bottom of the pool and wonder when it was last cleaned. Properly cleaned. A spent Elastoplast floats by. Gross. I wonder how many children have done a wee in here this week? How many teenagers have hopped in with verrucas? I might scrub myself with bleach when I get home.
Bob encourages me to try a little swimming and I follow him to the deep end, listening to my own breathing in my ears, the hiss of the bubbles which I think should be soothing, but is vaguely horrifying. When I get out of the pool with all the elegance of a seal on land, Bob is full of praise and, I have to say, he’s been a great instructor, very patient with his somewhat reluctant pupil. He just doesn’t look like he’s going to make Mr March of the Diving Hotties annual calendar any time soon.
Joe is chatting to some of the other guys at the end of the pool. I think he catches my eye, but turns away. Well, two can play at that game. I am the Queen of the Cold Shoulder. I dump my gear and head to the showers where I give myself a triple wash with Zingy Lime shower gel.
While I let the water cascade over me, I think about Joe. He’s great and there’s no doubt that my heart is quite impressed by him, but if I’m going to set my cap at anyone then it should obviously be Mason Soames. Joe is still too embroiled in his old life for him to be able to take on a girlfriend too. He said as much himself. And that’s fine. It was totally unnecessary of him to spell it out. And rather clumsy of him, I thought. Still, he’s playing it cool with me and that’s fine. I might have had a few stomach-flipping moments with Joe, but that kiss with Mason was sensational and, if it was up to him, it wouldn’t have ended there. No reluctance on Mason’s part. Oh no.
When I’m finished, I grab my stuff and head out to reception. I don’t have the same sense of exhilaration or achievement this week – even though I’ve probably done quite a bit more. My determined step stutters a little when I see Joe hanging around by the door. He’s looking very tousled and I hadn’t realised that tousled is a good look on a man. And I want to make it really clear to you right here, right now, that my mouth only goes dry because of all the damn chlorine in the water. Right? Let’s park that one straight away. I had a conversation with myself in the shower about it not five minutes ago.
‘How did it go tonight?’ he asks.
‘Great,’ I say. ‘I really enjoyed it.’ Diving is so not for me.
‘Are you coming to the pub?’ He sounds hopeful when he adds, ‘A few of us are going down there.’
‘Not tonight. I’ve got loads to do.’ Make a cup of tea, have a sandwich, watch telly. Mister, my life is all busy, busy, busy. ‘Thanks for asking though.’
‘See you next week, then?’
‘Wild horses wouldn’t keep me away.’ Sub-text: hell would have to freeze over before I’ll ever get in that swimming pool again. This is me so done with diving. And diving instructors.
‘Great.’ His smile brightens his face. ‘Maybe we could pair together again.’
‘I’m quite happy with Bob,’ I say, so sweetly that I nearly make myself sick. ‘He’s lovely.’
As I breeze out of the leisure centre and walk to the car, I’m sure that I can feel Joe’s eyes on my back and I make my step just a little more jaunty.
Chapter Twenty-Five
This weekend’s entertainment is provided by an eighties-themed party at a club in the city centre. The fortieth birthday of one of Charlie’s friends, Michaela, who I’ve met a couple of times. Forty. Blimey. It dawns on me that my big 4-0 won’t be that far away and I think I’d rather crawl into a hole than celebrate it. I had planned to do so much, be so much by the time I was forty and yet here I am bobbing on the doldrums between teenager and pensioner. Meh. I can feel a lot of prosecco coming on tonight if I’m going to get in the party mood.
We’re only going to get there after our shift finishes as we daren’t ask Jay for a Saturday night off together, so Charlie’s taken our outfits into the staffroom at the close of play in order to get changed. My feet are killing and it would take very little encouragement for me to give this a miss and go home. My bed is calling me and I don’t really know anyone else at this party, other than Charlie and the birthday girl.
My friend pulls two day-glo costumes out of a crumpled plastic bag. ‘Ebay,’ she says by way of explanation. She holds one of them up in front of her. ‘Cheap.’