She laughs. ‘Pleased to hear it.’
‘Did you do any research on me to find out my type?’ I immediately regret my question, because the tension’s right back.Obviously, if she did any research on me she would have found out about my ex-wife. Who I do not wish to talk about. Also, this conversation is straying into the realms of weirdness and over-analysis, given that last night we were very mucheach other’stypes.
‘A little.’ She pushes herself off the sofa. ‘I think the coffee will be more than ready.’
And, yes, that was a very wise subject change.
That was all too weird. In fact, I should probably leave. Maybe we can meet up another time, when this conversation is safely well behind us.
I have to stay and drink the coffee, though, or I’m creating more awkwardness where there shouldn’t be any.
‘How do you like your coffee?’ Freya calls.
‘Black, please.’
She brings a plate of macarons with the coffee and says, ‘No pressure, but home-made by me a couple of days ago.’
‘Worked your fingers to the bone, blood, sweat, tears but definitely no pressure?’ As I take one, I can’t help wondering how many people she has back here, given the large number of macarons, and whether any of them are men. I shock myself by feeling, maybe, a little jealousy at that thought.
‘Exactly.’ Freya takes one too and I find myself ridiculously turned on by watching her bite delicately into it. She looks up and catches me watching and nearly chokes.
I leap up to whack her on the back, or even go full Heimlich, only to realise that she’s completely fine, saying, ‘Sorry, false alarm. I somehow forgot how to eat for a moment.’
And just like that, we’ve got over whatever awkwardness I stupidly created, and we’re talking again about anything and everything, other than the challenge.
‘It’s late,’ she says, a long time later, after we’ve talked and talked. ‘Way past dinnertime. Are you hungry? Can I get you something to eat? And for the avoidance of doubt I would like to eat now, and I have food in and can whip something up veryquickly and would love you to stay and eat with me but equally totally understand if you’d like to go, so it’s entirely up to you.’
‘Ishouldgo,’ I begin, not sure where the end of my sentence will finish… ‘But I’d love to stay,’ I find myself saying. ‘Hard to resist your cooking having tasted everything you’ve made me so far.’ And also, I’m loving her conversation and just being with her.
She makes us salmon teriyaki and noodles (with the teriyaki made quickly but properly, from scratch, not out of a jar, unlike any teriyaki that’s ever – rarely – been ‘made’ by me), accompanied by steamed pak choi, and – of course – it’s delicious.
When we’ve finished eating, she asks if I’d like a mint tea, and – of course – I say yes.
Our conversation continues to rove around all over the place, before we begin talking about driving and travel.
‘I had one driving lesson and hated it – and I might have had a small crash in which no-one was injured but which made my instructor swear alot– and decided that when you live in London you can manage for life without a licence,’ she’s telling me as she brings our teas over to the sofa, where I’ve returned to digest my meal.
I laugh. ‘Yeah, you’re definitely right. I’m sure it would have been quicker to have taken the train to and from Devon this weekend. I just like driving.’
‘What’s the first car you owned?’ she asks.
As I tell her about the ancient VW Polo that was my pride and joy, and then we move on to talking about our first solo journeys abroad, I think about how, when she asked if I wanted to come in for coffee, I slightly imagined an immediate reprise of last night and wondered if we’d both be up for that (okay, I wondered ifshewould; I knew that I would), but we’ve just been talking for hours. And it’s been good. Very good.
And now it’s quite late. I’m sure Freya has work to do tomorrow, and I have an early meeting in the morning; I should go.
I place my mug on the coffee table in front of me and say, ‘This has been great. Thank you so much. It’s late; I should get going.’
‘It’s been lovely. Thankyoufor being a lovely dinner companion this evening.’
I stand up and Freya does too.
And then I walk over towards the hallway, and she comes with me.
And then I turn, and she’s a couple of feet away from me, standing there with her hands clasped lightly in front of her.
‘Thank you,’ I say again.
‘Nothing to thank me for. It’s been lovely. And thankyoufor the lift. And for being so amazing this weekend because Sonja did a spectacular job of forcing me to face my fears and it would have been so much harder without you there.’
