I’m still contemplating this matter later that evening while I’m sitting on the bottom of Wolverton swimming pool with Bob. I snuck out of work, avoiding a conversation with Charlie whereby I’d have to confess that I’d agreed to go on a dirty weekend with Mason to Paris. Do people still even call them dirty weekends? I don’t know. I feel so out of the ways of dating and its associated minefields. Whichever way, Charlie will go bonkers when I tell her.
I know what I said about not doing any more diving lessons, but I felt as if I was being inexorably drawn here by a force outside myself. Ahem. Plus I sort of wanted to see Joe again. I was a bit childish after our last lesson and am feeling guilty. He’s a nice guy and it wouldn’t hurt to be friends with him. He could probably do with a friend right now. Plus, if I am going to finish this course, then I don’t want there to be any friction between us. He’s at the other side of the pool when I arrive helping a big, military-looking guy put his tanks on, so I give a friendly wave in greeting – that’s all it takes, nothing more – and then I get on with the job in hand. Sort of.
Even though my mind is more on Paris than demand valves and whatever, I do quite well with my diving practice. Well, I manage to survive without drowning, which you have to agree is a good thing. Bob is less distracting as an instructor and I find that I do actually listen to what he’s saying rather than just watching his mouth. All round, it makes for a better diving experience. And my heart rate stays normal. Bonus.
‘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?’
I concentrate on my food and we talk about nothing in particular. Charlie doesn’t mention Mason and I think I might have got away with it. When we are full of tea and bacon, I say, ‘Shall we go for a walk in the woods?’
‘Exercise?’ Charlie looks horrified. ‘In the fresh air?’
‘It’s a lovely day.’
She does an exaggerated shudder. ‘But we’re going to be on our feet from lunchtime until silly o’clock at work serving the great and good of Buckinghamshire. Isn’t that exercise enough?’