As we applaud, they stand up and take their seats in the front row. Emily takes the opportunity to dig her beau sharply in the ribs. The lights go down and the film starts.
I know it’s cheesier than a ripe Camembert but I love this film. Even the opening sequence makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. It’s not high art, I get that, but it pushes all my buttons. Unrequited love, heartbreak, misunderstandings, longing, loss – frankly, all of my life is written large here. I’ll cry at the end, I know I will. I always do. I check that I’ve got a tissue in my back pocket.
It feels weird sitting here with Joe in the dark. Weirdly nice. His arm is resting lightly against mine and I don’t know if it’s deliberate or whether the seats are just too close together. The warmth of his big solid body is comforting. Maybe it would be nice to go on a proper date with him, I think – as Graham views it. Just us and no one else. A date where we aren’t doing something like scuba-diving or he’s working. Perhaps it might happen, in time. If he sorts himself out with his ex and his kids. I wonder how long that will take? I could be on one of those wheelie walking frames by then. I offer him the box of Maltesers and he dips in.
We get to the bit where Martin Freeman and that nice girl off Gavin and Stacey are in the buff acting out a porn scene and a voice shouts out from the back. ‘Are they having SEX?’
‘Pipe down, Billy,’ Joe says with a smile.
Huge stage whisper. ‘They are having sex.’
Joe turns to me. ‘I think I need to vet the film more carefully next time.’ We both smother a laugh.
So it goes throughout the film, every time someone kisses, shows skin or does venture towards having sex, Billy shouts out, ‘They’re doing it AGAIN!’
Which kind of detracts from the film and adds to it at the same time. I think Billy definitely needs a girlfriend. We have ice cream at the interval and when the film ends, despite having seen it a dozen or more times, I still cry at the end.
In the foyer afterwards, I wait while Joe says goodbye to some of the families and I help Eamon to tidy up behind the bar and then give the girl with the sweets a hand in packing them away.
‘Sorry about that,’ Joe says when he’s finished.
‘No worries. You’re working. I understand that.’ Then I take my courage in both hands. ‘Do you fancy going for a drink or a coffee somewhere?’
‘Now?’ Joe looks as surprised as I feel.
‘It’s not late.’
He hesitates for a moment before saying, ‘I can’t. I’m sorry. I need to see that the residents are safely home. One or two of them like to wander off when no one’s looking. Plus I’m on the clock with Gina. The kids are in school tomorrow.’
‘Oh, I thought they were staying overnight with her.’
He gives a hollow laugh. ‘I should be so lucky.’
‘It doesn’t matter. It was silly of me to ask.’ Wasn’t it just.
‘Another time though,’ he adds quickly. ‘It would be great.’
‘Yeah. Of course.’ I try not to sound disappointed but it’s never going to happen. He has commitments. Loads of them. I get that. ‘Thanks for a nice evening.’
‘I bet you go home and watch it in peace now without Billy’s commentary.’
‘That made it much more fun,’ I say earnestly. ‘You have some very nice people living here.’
‘I’d better go.’ Joe glances over his shoulder, distracted. ‘I’ll see you at scuba-diving?’
‘Yeah. Sure.’
‘Thanks for coming, Ruby.’
‘My pleasure.’ I have to say this is possibly the most chaste date I’ve ever had. It’s not exactly a date though, is it? Never was.
As I turn to leave, he catches my wrist and kisses me lightly on the cheek. ‘I mean it about coffee,’ he says. ‘Let’s do it soon.’
‘OK.’ Then he dashes off to help someone carrying chairs.
I stand and watch him for a moment longer. And as I walk to the car, I have to stop myself from touching my cheek where he kissed it.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I drive home with a stupid smile on my face. Despite the refusal at the coffee fence, that was a good evening, all considered. Good film, Maltesers, cold ice-cream, hot man. The promise of a coffee-based date? Maybe. I’m still grinning when I pull up outside my granny annexe. That’s until I see Mason’s fancy car parked there.
I turn off my engine and sit in my car for a moment, wondering what to do. I’m going to have to get out, aren’t I? I can hardly sit here all bloody night. He knows it’s me in my slightly mouldy Mazda. With a sigh, I open the door. I’ve no idea what to say to him.
By the time I’m out of the car, Mason is standing leaning against my bonnet. It’s fair to say that he’s looking pretty hot. He’s wearing a crisp, white shirt, designer jeans and shoes that are most definitely handmade rather than from Next. He folds his arms and gives me a direct stare. ‘You’re avoiding me, Brown. Why’s that?’
‘I’m not.’
‘I’ve called you dozens of time and they’ve all gone to voicemail. I’ve left you invitations for dinner and yet nothing. Have you stopped eating?’
‘I’m busy. I did mean to return your calls.’ That sounds as lame as you think.
‘Like hell you did.’ He’s clearly not buying my excuses, yet he’s smiling when he says it. ‘I’m not used to being given the run around.’
‘That’s not my intention.’
‘Then come out with me now.’
‘Now?’
‘I’m going up to the club. Get your gladrags on and let’s hit the town. The night is young.’
‘It’s nearly eleven o’clock.’ That didn’t seem to bother me when I was asking Joe for coffee, did it? ‘I’ve got work tomorrow and I have a boss who’s pure evil.’
‘I’ve heard he’s a pussycat. And extraordinarily handsome.’
‘I can’t come to the club, Mason. It’s late and I’m tired.’
‘Charlie said you’d gone to watch a film.’
Thanks, Charlie. Remind me to kick her in the shins tomorrow. ‘Yeah, I did.’
‘A date?’
‘Not exactly,’ I say. ‘Not that it’s any of your business.’
‘What did you see?’
‘Love, Actually.’
‘What kind of date is that?’ He turns up his nose.
‘A nice one. I enjoyed myself.’
‘So why home so early?’
‘I told you, it’s none of your business. It wasn’t a date, anyway.’
‘I can do nice, cheesy dates, if that’s what floats your boat. Come on,’ he wheedles. ‘Don’t make me beg. Play out with me. I’ll drive you home afterwards. You can have as many sparkly cocktails as you like.’
‘I’m not that easily bought.’ Though he already knows, to my eternal shame, that a weekend in Paris is my price. ‘I don’t think this is a good idea, Mason. We should continue our relationship on a purely professional footing.’
‘Bollocks,’ is his view on that. ‘We’re good together and you know it. Come on, Brown. Let your hair down. See what I did there? I’m a poet and I didn’t even know it.’
I can help but smile which only encourages him.