this job.” I began to chew my left thumbnail.
“What kind of café is it? And are you cooking? I just never saw you in a café. Is it like on EastEnders?” I could hear the frown in her question.
“Not quite. It’s just around the corner, run by a lovely guy, sells posh quiche and cake.”
“What’s his name?”
“Who?”
“The fella.”
“Matt. He’s from Guildford. Makes a mean cheesecake.”
“Is he single?” she asked. Her excitement at me spending all my days with an eligible straight man was barely concealed.
“He is. 35, solvent, own business and hair. So if you know of any single ladies, throw them my way and I’ll sort them out.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line as she took in the fact I wasn’t including myself in that category.
“I’ll bear that in mind,” she said. Vaguely contrite.
“Actually, I’m being set up tonight with a lawyer.” Where had that come from?
“Oh – what’s his name?” Scrap contrite.
“Angela. You do remember I’m gay, right?”
“I was just joking,” she said. She wasn’t. “Where’s that then?”
“Julia and Tom’s.”
She spent the next few minutes waxing lyrical about Julia and Tom, declaring them a “super couple”. During her cascade of words I was able to select my jeans and shoes for the evening and unpack a bag of toiletries I’d bought on the way home.
“What’s rustling?” she said.
“Nothing,” I lied. I walked from the bathroom to my bedroom and opened my wardrobe.
“When are they getting married?”
“June.”
“You’ll have to remind me to send a card. Dave and Vera’s daughter married Gary Holmes last weekend – do you remember him from school?”
“No.” I sighed.
“I’m sure he was in your year,” she said. “Anyway, she looked lovely.”
“I’m sure she did.” I wondered if she picked up on my sarcasm. “Listen mum, I have to get ready.”
More sighing.
“Send Julia my love. Are you coming for dinner tomorrow?”
“No. Kate and I have the boys and we’re taking them to the zoo.”
“Ooh, lovely. Say hi to Kate. A Sunday soon then?”
“I’ll call to confirm.” I selected some socks from my top drawer.
“Make sure you do – and bring Kate too!”
Maybe she did fancy Kate.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I arrived at Julia’s bang on six to be greeted by Tom flicking one of the corks on his sunhat, worn in my honour.
“To make you feel at home, Sheila,” he said. He leant in and kissed me on my right cheek so that I felt the bristle of his stubble. When Julia had met Tom at university ten years ago he’d had a full head of hair but now his brown thatch was decidedly thinning. In my absence he’d also put on some weight which he was hiding well with a black T-shirt, but he was still the same warm, welcoming Tom.
“So have you met this woman I’m being paired up with tonight?” I said. I kissed Julia from behind as she was busy de-veining a bowl of prawns with some cocktail sticks. I screwed up my face at the sight – I loved eating shellfish but not so much the preparation.
Julia was ready for the evening in green trousers and white shirt, covered right now with a black apron. I could tell from the way her dark hair was still a little static that she was fresh out of the shower and recently coiffured.
“No, but I’ve seen a photo and she looks just your type – tits, breathing, you know,” he said. “You look lovely by the way,” he added to appease me, which worked a treat as I accepted an ice cold bottle of Stella from him.
“He’s right – you look very presentable,” Julia added. She turned to appraise my jeans and posh shirt combo fully, before nudging the tap with her right wrist and rinsing her hands.
“Suitably lesbian but not too dykey?”
“What’s the difference?” Tom said, picking a bit of stray food from his bare foot and then grabbing the counter for balance.
“She’s going to be wowed,” Julia said. I hoped so, because my
“What kind of café is it? And are you cooking? I just never saw you in a café. Is it like on EastEnders?” I could hear the frown in her question.
“Not quite. It’s just around the corner, run by a lovely guy, sells posh quiche and cake.”
“What’s his name?”
“Who?”
“The fella.”
“Matt. He’s from Guildford. Makes a mean cheesecake.”
“Is he single?” she asked. Her excitement at me spending all my days with an eligible straight man was barely concealed.
“He is. 35, solvent, own business and hair. So if you know of any single ladies, throw them my way and I’ll sort them out.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line as she took in the fact I wasn’t including myself in that category.
“I’ll bear that in mind,” she said. Vaguely contrite.
“Actually, I’m being set up tonight with a lawyer.” Where had that come from?
“Oh – what’s his name?” Scrap contrite.
“Angela. You do remember I’m gay, right?”
“I was just joking,” she said. She wasn’t. “Where’s that then?”
“Julia and Tom’s.”
She spent the next few minutes waxing lyrical about Julia and Tom, declaring them a “super couple”. During her cascade of words I was able to select my jeans and shoes for the evening and unpack a bag of toiletries I’d bought on the way home.
“What’s rustling?” she said.
“Nothing,” I lied. I walked from the bathroom to my bedroom and opened my wardrobe.
“When are they getting married?”
“June.”
“You’ll have to remind me to send a card. Dave and Vera’s daughter married Gary Holmes last weekend – do you remember him from school?”
“No.” I sighed.
“I’m sure he was in your year,” she said. “Anyway, she looked lovely.”
“I’m sure she did.” I wondered if she picked up on my sarcasm. “Listen mum, I have to get ready.”
More sighing.
“Send Julia my love. Are you coming for dinner tomorrow?”
“No. Kate and I have the boys and we’re taking them to the zoo.”
“Ooh, lovely. Say hi to Kate. A Sunday soon then?”
“I’ll call to confirm.” I selected some socks from my top drawer.
“Make sure you do – and bring Kate too!”
Maybe she did fancy Kate.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I arrived at Julia’s bang on six to be greeted by Tom flicking one of the corks on his sunhat, worn in my honour.
“To make you feel at home, Sheila,” he said. He leant in and kissed me on my right cheek so that I felt the bristle of his stubble. When Julia had met Tom at university ten years ago he’d had a full head of hair but now his brown thatch was decidedly thinning. In my absence he’d also put on some weight which he was hiding well with a black T-shirt, but he was still the same warm, welcoming Tom.
“So have you met this woman I’m being paired up with tonight?” I said. I kissed Julia from behind as she was busy de-veining a bowl of prawns with some cocktail sticks. I screwed up my face at the sight – I loved eating shellfish but not so much the preparation.
Julia was ready for the evening in green trousers and white shirt, covered right now with a black apron. I could tell from the way her dark hair was still a little static that she was fresh out of the shower and recently coiffured.
“No, but I’ve seen a photo and she looks just your type – tits, breathing, you know,” he said. “You look lovely by the way,” he added to appease me, which worked a treat as I accepted an ice cold bottle of Stella from him.
“He’s right – you look very presentable,” Julia added. She turned to appraise my jeans and posh shirt combo fully, before nudging the tap with her right wrist and rinsing her hands.
“Suitably lesbian but not too dykey?”
“What’s the difference?” Tom said, picking a bit of stray food from his bare foot and then grabbing the counter for balance.
“She’s going to be wowed,” Julia said. I hoped so, because my
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