He follows me down the hall. Hopefully he’s looking at my arse and not thinking about the fact I’m a gibbering loon. I take his jacket and offer him some wine. ‘Dinner won’t be too long so—’
I’m interrupted by a loud clanging noise from the kitchen. Then another. My heart sinks. What the hell is he doing? Tom is looking at me, waiting for an explanation, but I haven’t had time to invent one yet so I mumble, ‘Give me a minute, will you?’ and walk to the kitchen as calmly as I can. Dylan is already coming out. He stops for a moment and winks at me. ‘All done, Cat!’ he announces loudly. ‘Should be working fine now.’ He breezes past me and straight into the living room. I rush in behind him.
He sees Tom and stops in his tracks. He doesn’t look quite so cocky any more.
‘Oh! Sorry for interrupting. I’m Dylan – upstairs neighbour.’
Tom stands up to greet him. ‘Tom Ward. Pleasure.’
They’re both just staring at each other. Are they sizing each other up? Fuck me, this is awkward. I step in. ‘The light bulbs in the kitchen blew. Dylan was kind enough to change them for me. I mean, I know how to change a light bulb; I’m just too damn short for these high ceilings.’
It might not be a great explanation, but it’s better than the truth. The testosterone in the air is threatening to suffocate us all, so I grab Dylan by the arm. ‘So, thanks very much, Dylan. Let me show you out. Tom, make yourself at home.’
‘Nice to meet you, Tom,’ Dylan says, following me out. I close the living-room door and we hastily move to the front door.
‘Nice save, Cat. I was going to go with a blocked sink, but I liked that better. Oh, the sauce is heating up on the hob as we speak.’
‘I’m about to have a breakdown here. Can you please go?’
I open the front door, but he still isn’t leaving. Instead he whispers, ‘This guy? You’re sure this guy is your type? Yeah, he’s good looking but—’
‘Don’t you do that!’ I interrupt. ‘Don’t try and fuck with me. There is NOTHING wrong with him. Of course he’s my type – did you see him?! Now let me follow your stupid rules and see where this goes.’
He takes the hint and steps outside. ‘You know what I was saying about women not being worth the hass—’
‘Dylan. Can we talk later? I don’t want to leave Tom on his own.’
‘Oh. Right. Later then.’
I slam the door and return to the living room, where Tom is still sitting in the same position. ‘Sorry about that. I’d normally ask Adam, but they’re on holiday.’
Oh, shut up, Cat, he doesn’t need this much detail. ‘Anyway, as I was saying, let me get you some wine.’
I turn on my mp3 player and grab some glasses and a corkscrew from the kitchen. To my horror, I return to hear Lady Gaga singing ‘Applause’. I love this song, but he doesn’t need to know that yet. He gives me a ‘So this is an unexpected song choice’ look.
‘I’m sorry. My daughter has a lot of her music on here too. Let me just change that.’ I quickly scroll through, find George Ezra’s album and press play. First disaster of the evening averted, although, quite frankly, if Tom doesn’t like this he can leave.
‘Dinner smells good,’ he comments, uncorking the red wine he’s brought. ‘What are we having?’
‘Oh, just a spag bol I knocked up. From scratch.’
‘Impressive. You like to cook?’
Fuck no.
‘When I have the time. I find it very relaxing.’ I’m a pro at The Rules of Engagement now. ‘Let me just put the spaghetti on. Won’t be a sec.’
I’m standing reading the spaghetti packet when Tom appears. ‘Can I help with anything?’
Why yes. How in the love of fuck does one actually cook spaghetti?
‘Oh no, I’m fine. Thanks, Tom.’ He sits at the kitchen table instead. Oh fuck me, he’s going to watch. I need to pretend I know what I’m doing.
The water in the pot is already boiling so I carefully lower the spaghetti in, but my pot is too small and I’m forced to try to snap them into submission. I press nine minutes on my digital timer.
‘Your place is very nice,’ Tom remarks. ‘Different to your sister’s. Yours is much more . . . fun.’
I politely laugh. ‘Yes, well, Helen’s house is more sophisticated than mine, but I have an eight-year-old. I like to make it fun for her.’
