‘He was an idiot,’ states Tom.
‘Aww, thank you.’ I almost believe him. He’s very good at that, I’ve already realised: making people feel better.
‘Number five?’ asks Ruth.
‘Your bog-standard recently divorced man who wanted to tell me all about the ex. I was free therapy, basically. Even freer when at the end of the evening I said that I was so sorry but I wasn’t sure it had worked and that I didn’t think we should necessarily meet again, and he walked straight out without paying his half of the bill.’
‘That,’ Carole says, ‘is classic Roger-style behaviour.’
‘Tosser,’ we all chorus, because that’s where we’re up to now on the Roger situation: every so often, Carole throws in a comment about him and we all agree that he’s a tosser.
‘Number six?’ asks Bea.
‘Another classic,’ I say. ‘Because I am an idiot. We had what seemed like a lovely evening together in a restaurant and then I went to the loo but turned back because I hadn’t picked up my bag and wanted to reapply my lipstick, and he was making a quick call to his wife to say he was late at a client dinner and might have to stay in a hotel overnight.’
‘Tosser,’ the others say automatically.
‘Oh dear.’ Ruth leans over and squeezes my hand briefly. ‘I don’t think dating strangers is working for you.’
‘That’s an understatement.’
‘I’m not going to be dating for alongtime,’ Carole says. ‘You’re welcome to join me.’
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘I think I should.’
‘Love will find you when you least expect it.’ Bea smiles at me and then at Ruth, and I swallow at the gorgeousness of their evident happiness.
I see Tom check his phone again.
‘Still nothing,’ he says when he sees me looking.
‘Sheisokay, I’m sure of it,’ I say.
Tom’s face falls a little and I realise that I’ve kind of said the wrong thing. In that he clearly doesn’t want to think that anything bad’s happened to her, but also he doesn’t want to think that there’s no good reason she hasn’t turned up. And we know now that the whole bomb scare was just a scare and no-one at all was injured (thank goodness).
‘What I mean,’ I amend, ‘is that there was clearly a good reason that she hasn’t come this evening.’ I’dliketo point out that he is apparently excellent at meeting people in weird ways, so if this doesn’t work out he’ll probably meet someone again soon, except I don’t think he’d like to hear that, because obviously he’s been waiting for Lola for ten years. In fact, maybe the reason that none of the rest of his relationships worked out in that time was that he subconsciously didn’t want them to because of Lola. ‘Youwillsee her soon.’
He perks up. ‘Think so?’
‘Definitely.’ If I’m honest, I wouldn’ttotallyput money on it.
4
TOM
I really cannot understand why Nadia assuring me that everything’s going to be okay genuinely does make me believe it will be (I mean, how would she know?), but it does.
Maybe it’s just because I very much want her reassurances to be true.
The conversation moves on from first dates to the guitar player above us and Spanish and Latin American music (Bea used to be a music teacher it turns out and her knowledge is fascinating), through food anecdotes, to how many pets we’ve all had, and I realise that all four of the others are nice. Just very, very nice.
If you’d told me a few hours ago that Lola wouldn’t turn up and I’d find myself at a restaurant table with this on-the-face-of-it mismatched assortment of women, I’d have been astonished. But here I am. And, despite my burgeoning worry that I – like Nadia – have been stood up this evening, or – even worse – that something’s happened to Lola, I’m enjoying myself.
Eventually, with reluctance, we acknowledge that we are the last people in the restaurant and that we really ought to leave and let the staff finish tidying up and go home.
Carole’s been looking a lot perkier, but suddenly she’s drooping again.
‘Carole, you really can’t go home on your own tonight,’ Bea says. ‘You must come and stay with us.’
