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Joe gives me a side glance, thoroughly enjoying himself.
Hoo boy, tonight’s going to be a long night.
Maggie encourages me to try a glass of Bacchus from Kent and brings us a bowl of still-warm popcorn. Joe and I move over to a corner table where we attempt less spiky conversational territory, that is the plausibility of the latest Paw Patrol movie.
‘Here,’ I say, pulling two pieces of paper out of my clutch bag.
‘What’s this?’
‘I took the liberty of typing up a questionnaire for us each to fill in as an easy way to get to know each other. Date of birth, siblings, schools we went to, favourite foods. You know, all the essentials?’
‘Nothing says romance more than a Word document, Sophie.’
‘Given that you read books for a living, shall we put you in charge of working out all the sweet bits we’ll need to flesh out our love story?’
‘Mmm yes, “flesh out”. You really are a true romantic, aren’t you?’
I choose to ignore this. ‘Meanwhile my organisation skills can be put to good use ironing out the finer details and keeping us on track,’ I say, pointedly tapping at the pieces of paper.
‘For a woman who has never seen a pencil before, I must say I’m surprised that you printed this off,’ he quips.
‘You wear glasses.’ I shrug. ‘I figured you might prefer a physical copy.’
‘That’s … surprisingly thoughtful of you,’ he concedes, taking his glasses off and looking at them.
‘Surprisingly thoughtful?’ I bristle.
‘Can I let you in on a secret?’ Joe ploughs on. ‘These aren’t prescription.’
‘You wear them for the look?’ I fall about laughing and vow to never stop mocking Joe for this.
‘I’m afraid so.’ I think he’s attempting to look embarrassed but it is entirely clear that he is, in fact, not remotely embarrassed by this admission.
I wipe my eyes. ‘Joe, that is tragique.’
‘So bad we’re speaking French now?’
‘I just …’ I splutter, mirth threatening to spill over again. ‘Whatever next, Joe?’
‘Well, we can’t all be effortlessly cool like you,’ he says, hooking the specs onto his top and looking down at the questionnaire. ‘Must say I’ve never dated someone who brings homework.’
Ah, now here’s a topic I can warm to. ‘Bloody loved homework when I was a kid. I’d have ring binders and dividers for different topics, and I’d always get new gel pens before an exam.’
‘Would it be wrong to assume that you were something of a dork, Sophie?’
‘Proudly so.’ I grin. ‘I was head girl at primary school and a prefect at secondary. I’d have been head girl there too if it wasn’t for sodding Elizabeth Vickers.’
‘Sodding Elizabeth,’ Joe echoes with a laugh.
I regard him as he throws a handful of popcorn into his mouth.
‘Surely you don’t get to head up a university department without being something of a nerd yourself?’
‘On behalf of my colleagues, I would like to refute that claim,’ Joe says, pretending to look shocked. ‘Anyway, in my later school years my mum, Denise, sat me down and told me I’d waste my talent if I carried on mucking around. She’s quite stern when she wants to be so after that, I buckled down. Took a lot of stick from my mates but it was worth it.’
I smile. ‘I like her already. Now, if our relationship is going to look authentic then we’re both going to need to memorise each other’s answers on the questionnaire. Do the revision and I think it will be a nailed-down success.’
‘Yes, boss,’ Joe barks in military fashion before picking up the questionnaire and pulling the pencil out from behind his ear. ‘Let’s see … Okay, so I’m thirty-five and I was born in Cork.’
