When I eventually get inside my flat, after very slow slide-shuffling and a crawl up the stairs inside my building, I pull the boots off and then lie on the sofa, enjoying the fact that my feet are finally free.
I stare at the ceiling, really not sure what to think about the day. It’s as though Tom and I have committed a crime together, that we share a big guilty secret now. I kind of feel as though the easiest thing now would be to never see each other again. Fake dating should obviously remain in fiction; in real life you just can’t do it.
I heave myself off the sofa and go over to the kitchen area. I need a cup of tea.
Oh mygoodnessthe joy of not having to wear anything on my feet.
As I flick the kettle on it’s like something flicks in the decision-making part of my mind too. We should stop the fake dating now. It did work well with my colleagues, but I don’t want to carry on lying to Marisa. And I can’t believe Tom really wants to carry on lying to his family.
As I take the first slurp of my tea, a message comes in from him.
Thank you so much. The frilly pants and the blisters were far beyond the call of duty. How are your feet now? Do you have flip-flops? Will they work?
I have very happy feet now that I’m back home and shoe-free, and it was no problem. You have a lovely family
Who we lied to. Not great. I kind of want to just say goodbye forever now. But there’s Bea and Ruth’s wedding. And Tom’s just sent another message.
Gonna need to collect my mum’s wellies from you
Oh yes! Maybe at the wedding?
Good idea. Goodnight then and thank you again
Yep, I think we have to stop fake dating.
10
TOM
Bea and Ruth have really pulled some speedy wedding planning out of the bag and today is their big day.
I don’t like to think of when I got married (the whole thing was a huge mistake – in a nutshell, my wife and I got married too quickly, and had absolutely nothing in common, and one day after getting home early from a school trip during which most of the kids came down with food poisoning, I found her in bed with someone else – and our divorce came through on the second anniversary of the wedding) but I do know from that and all other weddings I’ve heard about that big ones usually take many months, if not years, to organise.
But not, apparently, if you’re determined and are in your seventies and feel that time is of the essence and (in Bea’s words) happen to have a younger brother who’s a vicar and who can fit you in three weeks on Tuesday.
I’ve had a few conversations with Nadia since the barbecue (I obviously had to ask after her feet, and she thanked me for the plasters and flip-flops that I sent her because I couldn’t not send her something after a day like that and those seemed the only obvious gifts) but I’ve kind of withdrawn a little and so has she.
I’m not sure why she doesn’t seem so keen to chat; it could be anything from being busy at work to having succumbed to her dating app addiction (or actually having met someone in real life) to hating me due to the blisters and frilly pants.
I do know why I don’t want to chat so much: that day was just too odd. I didn’t enjoy lying to my whole family; it made me feel quite grubby, and it made me feel as though Nadia and I share a dirty secret. And I suppose no-one really wants to spend time with someone with whom they share grubbiness. I don’t, anyway, I’ve discovered.
Also, my family loved her. Definitely. I know them and they did. For example, while they didn’t say so, it was clear from the off that none of them liked my ex-wife. (They were right not to.) In contrast I could just tell that theydidlike Nadia. And rightly so; from what I’ve seen sheisnice and likeable.
Anyway, it isn’t just that they loved her that’s the problem, it’s the fact that me taking herdidwork in that for the first time for a long time there’s been no speculation or hinting or anything from a single member of my family. And I think that that’s because they all hope that I have finally recovered from my marriage debacle and they don’t want to jinx it by saying anything.
And that makes me feel awful, far worse than I’ve been feeling with all the men-have-biological-clocks-too chat. That was just kind of irritating (and obviously rooted in them having my best interests at heart). This feels deceitful and horrible.
Also. And this is a big thing. Nadia and I have absolutely nothing in common (other than an immediate addiction to Brawl Stars) and she is just not someone I would ever date (I’m not doing the nothing-in-common thing again after what happened with my ex-wife). Plus, I still have feelings for Lola, which need to be resolved, and Nadia’s been in a dating mess and is very much in need of her man detox. Nonetheless, something odd happened on the day of the barbecue.
I think I veered too much down the method acting route. Or the sun got to me. Or the Pimm’s. Or the far-too-tight-and-too-short-and-ridiculously-low-cut dress and the frilly pants coupled with Nadia’s – objectively – lovely figure. And her crazy hair and glorious smile.
But basically, yep, I was finding her very physically attractive. And she’s obviously easy company.
And then when I carried her down the steps at the station, I just… Well, I don’t know. But she fitted very well into my arms. Very well. I mean, I can literally still conjure up that feeling of having her softness held against me, the way her hair smelt.
And it felt as though I was kind of cheating on Lola just by feeling that. In that I told Lola I loved her and we left it at that. I mean, clearly,clearly, she does not also love me. But I suppose I feel that I need to sayer anyway goodbye, I’m donebefore starting something with someone else.
And I will not be starting something with someone with whom I have nothing in common. Nadia and I have nothing in common. So I amnotin any way doing the wrong thing if I spend time with her. But, weirdly, Ifeltas though I was in that moment.
