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‘The landlady.’
‘First-name terms?’
‘Of course,’ we both say at the same time.
I scan around again and note that the clientele is not what I’d expected. A group in their twenties look like they’ve just stepped out of an ad campaign for living your best life. Next to us, a stylish older couple are laughing over shared jokes.
On the bar is a wine list which I have a quick look through.
‘I jumped to conclusions,’ I admit. ‘I thought the extent of the wine list would be “red” or “white”.’
‘Shame on you. Maggie’s actually a huge advocate of English wines.’
‘Really?’ I say, my mind wandering to what I do best. I start thinking out loud. ‘You know, the pub has got a shabby chic feel to it. It could have huge potential. A bit of buzz on social media and—’
‘Don’t even think about it, Sophie,’ Joe interrupts. ‘This is my haven. I love it here because it flies under the radar. If all the cool kids in fishermen hats start coming then what will happen to my sanctuary?’
I snort. ‘What did the fisherman-hat trend ever do to you?’
‘You know what I mean,’ he says. ‘If it becomes “hip” then it won’t feel like a home away from home anymore.’
‘But—’
‘Please?’ he asks, looking like a puppy about to lose its favourite toy.
‘Fine. My lips are sealed. So, is this where you bring all your dates?’
‘I haven’t been on a date in about five years.’
I look at him as he tucks the pencil he’s holding behind his ear and holds my gaze.
‘Oh. I’d assumed you’d …’
‘Been chatting up half of Bristol? Is it fair to say, Sophie, that you might have misjudged me?’ He looks thrilled at this, he’s practically smirking. I fidget on my bar stool.
‘I’ve thought about dating,’ he continues, ‘but I haven’t actually got round to it. Too absorbed in parenting to have the headspace, I suppose.’
He pauses here and I decide some honesty of my own might make up for me assuming that Joe was a great big shagger. ‘I hear you,’ I say. ‘In my head, Lila was taking her first steps yesterday but in reality she’s now so big that she can ride a bike better than I can. The way time moves when you’re a parent is a total mind fuck.’
Joe holds up his pint in front of him. ‘To parenthood – a total mind fuck,’ he says and then takes a big swig.
I laugh.
‘So, to counter your assumptions, it’s only since Sid started school that I’ve wondered if I could carve out some time for all this dating you think I’m already doing.’
I scrunch my face up in an apology.
‘You’ve got to admit that it fits though, right? Always surrounded by women. Irish charm on full blast. And now I find out you’re an English Literature professor to boot? I bet you just love talking about big Shakespearean love and, I don’t know, prose.’
‘Hoh, okay.’ Joe lets out a low rumbling laugh. ‘You’ve really got me in a pigeon hole, haven’t you? All right, my turn. I bet you’re all about the non-fiction? There is a whole stack of business books at your place, right? I’m thinking a well-thumbed copy of Richard Branson’s autobiography on your bedside table.’
Damn it, he’s right! But I refuse to be beaten.
‘I don’t actually have a bedside table so you lose.’
Joe narrows his eyes at me in glee. ‘Not denying the Branson autobiography, I see. And there will be books stuffed with business buzzwords,’ continues Joe, warming to his theme. ‘Like “let’s take this offline” or “circle back”.’
‘Are you quite finished?’ I fold my arms.
