‘I thought we could grab some dinner,’ Simon said, looking disappointed.
‘Oh, right. I probably should … um …’
‘They do tapas here. We could just grab a quick bite.’
As if in answer, Lucy’s stomach groaned. Two glasses of wine and no dinner wasn’t wise. ‘Yes, let’s,’ she said, reaching for two tapas menus and hoping for the best. She couldn’t spend the next hour or so listening to any more property chitchat and so tried a different tack.
‘Have you lived here your whole life?’
‘Yeah,’ Simon said when they’d ordered food and drink.
‘Do you know much about the Occupation?’
Simon looked taken aback. ‘Not really. I mean, enough, you know. Do you know, I’ve been waiting for Deux Tourelles to come up for sale for years. One of those elusive properties. Do you know the last time it was up for sale was in 1911. Been in the same family ever since.’
‘Imagine that,’ Lucy said.
‘And now it’s on the market for the first time in three generations. Three!’ Simon enthused.
‘Yes, I suppose that is quite interesting,’ Lucy said half-heartedly.
‘A shame you haven’t got sea views,’ Simon mused and then quoted an asking price that may have been fetched if Deux Tourelles had been a coastal property.
‘Yes, sorry about that.’ Lucy laughed.
‘Last month I sold a house fairly similar to yours that had sea views and …’
Lucy zoned out as their food and drink arrived, eating her dinner in relative silence for the next twenty minutes and when Simon eventually took a breath she cut in quickly. ‘I’ve had a lovely night,’ she fibbed. ‘Thank you so much.’ She gestured for the bill to the waitress who had been listening in to the one-sided conversation with barely suppressed mirth.
When the bill arrived, Simon suggested they split it and, ever a modern girl, Lucy agreed. Would Will have suggested they go Dutch? she wondered and then wasn’t sure why she was thinking about Will all of a sudden.
‘Your place or mine?’ Simon said when they’d paid.
‘Oh.’ Lucy couldn’t mask her surprise. ‘I wasn’t … I thought …’ she said finally. They had no chemistry. He could see that, surely? And now he was suggesting what, exactly? That they sleep together? On an awful first date? Surely not.
‘I need to run you home anyway,’ he said, pointing out that he’d picked her up. ‘Coffee at yours?’ he suggested.
Her relief must have been obvious. ‘Coffee,’ she said, drawing out the word. ‘Yes, what a good idea. Although I’ve only got instant I’m afraid. No Nespresso machine at Deux Tourelles.’
He nodded his agreement as they walked towards his car. The journey was mute, much to Lucy’s contentment. When they drove past Will’s cottage, she could see the lights on. She wondered what he was doing now. Was he working? Editing photos or whatever it was photographers did when not out actually taking pictures?Or did he have his feet up, watching TV? She wondered what he watched. He looked like a crime drama kind of man, or maybe he preferred nature documentaries.
After they arrived at the house, Simon waited in the sitting room while she made coffee and he looked up when she entered carrying two cups. ‘Fabulous cornicing,’ he said, gesturing to the ceiling.
‘What kind of programmes do you watch?’ she asked, aware it was an awfully dull question, but desperate to engage him in something else.
‘I don’t really watch much telly,’ he said. ‘Channel 4 does some good property programmes these days.’
‘Christ,’ she whispered into her coffee. And then: ‘I really should get to bed soon. We’ll have to call this a night, I think.’
‘So,’ he said, inching closer towards her on the settee.
She backed away and said for the second time that evening, ‘I’ve had a lovely night.’ She hoped that both the words and her body language combined were pointed enough that he took the hint.
Her phone dinged and she saw it was a message from Will. ‘Excuse me for a second?’
‘Sure,’ Simon said, kicking off his shoes and pushing them under the coffee table with his feet. What was he doing? Why was he settling in?
‘How’d it go with the estate agents today?’Will’s message asked.
