‘That’s most unlike you!’
‘I actually felt a bit guilty. You know, for not thinking about Layla. Maybe it’s a slippery slope and I’ll forget about her altogether.’ I held out my glass.
‘I don’t think there’s much danger of that,’ Joe said as he poured me a hefty measure of Cava that rose to the top and just avoided frothing over the edge.
‘Hmm. I know. It was just odd, that’s all. I did call her from the car on the way home though.’
‘Of course.’ He smiled as he poured his own glass and held it up to mine. ‘Cheers!’
‘Cheers,’ I said. ‘Thanks for doing this, Joe. Makes me feel like I’ve landed a major contract or secured a high-powered position rather than a “little library job” as Mum described it – fairly patronisingly.’
‘Well, you say that but look what arrived this afternoon.’ He indicated a big bunch of flowers still wrapped in their cellophane that he’d balanced in a pint glass on the kitchen countertop.
‘Oh! From her?’
‘I assumed so. Unless maybe Farah? The delivery lady didn’t give me any clues.’
I opened the little card that was sellotaped to the wrapping. They were from Mum.
‘Oh, that’s sweet,’ I said, showing Joe the brief ‘good luck’ message. ‘How come you were here when they arrived?’ I’m not generally a very suspicious wife but it was rare indeed for my husband to put in an appearance at home on a weekday any time before seven – and trust him to do it on the first day I’d actually left the house to go to work myself for the past however many years.
He looked a bit sheepish. ‘Yeah, I – uhm – I came back early and went to play a few rounds over at Amberley.’
I raised my eyebrows. How many times had I asked him to take an afternoon off to come and watch Layla in a school performance or playing in a football match and it had beencompletely impossible? ‘Okay,’ I said, as neutrally as I could. ‘Is that going to become a regular fixture? It’s just that previously I know it’s beenreallydifficultto take time off work mid-week.’ I didn’t want to sound judgy. I really hoped I didn’t sound judgy.
‘That sounded a bit judgy,’ he said.
‘Well, sor-ry,’ I said, my voice now a bit tight. Gah! Why was I turning this into something tense? Or washebeing tense and overly defensive? I took another sip of Cava.
‘It’s just thatreally, it sort of is work,’ he said. ‘I know it doesn’t sound like it, but loads of guys use golf as an excuse to talk about business in a less formal environment. It’s not just Steve. It’s all about making contacts.’
‘Okay. Yeah, fine. I get it,’ I said, keen to restore the happy vibe of earlier.
‘And, uhm…’ He grimaced slightly before blurting out the rest of the sentence in a rush. ‘I decided to sign up for membership. At Amberley. For the year.’
‘Oh, right.’ This seemed significant from his expression, but I wasn’t sure why he was feeling guilty about it, unless… ‘Was that quite expensive?’
‘It’s two hundred pounds a month,’ he said. ‘Which is your basic entry level seven-day membership. It means I can play whenever I want. Green fees are sometimes extra on the days when it’s premier patrons only but I’m sure I can…’
‘Two hundred a month!’ I said, choking on my Cava. ‘And you’ve signed up for the year? So, two and a half grand in total. Are you serious?’
‘That was the cheapest option.’
‘Oh, I’m sure I can think of a cheaper option, Joe! How aboutnotspending thousands of pounds on golf club membership?Thatmight have been the cheapest option!’ I put my glass down on the table to indicate how un-celebratory I was now feeling. Two and a half thousand pounds! FFS! What was he thinking?
‘Was this an impulse purchase?’ I said, trying to understand where this preposterous suggestion had come from. ‘Did you wake up this morning and think,Great, we’ve got an extra couple of grand just hanging around that’s come from literally nowhere – what to spend it on? Upgrading the car? Layla’sliving expenses? Nice little holiday for us all? Oh, no, of course, I know just the thing!’
‘Actually,’ he said, refusing to rise to my baiting. ‘I’ve been thinking about it for a few weeks but didn’t sign up because we weren’t sure about your job and everything. But now you’re on a regular wage and…’
‘So basically, it’smethat’s paying for this? I’m going out to work purely to facilitate you playing golf?’
‘Not directly, no,’ he said reasonably. ‘No more than my going to work facilitates you going shopping or out with your friends or supporting your extensive reading habit.’
I scoffed. I never went shopping and I rarely went out with friends. Although he did have a point about my towering To Be Read pile and the fact that I kept adding to it like a dragon hoarding bookish treasure.
‘It’s all part of the collective family income,’ he continued. ‘That’s how we’ve always done things. It’s not like I ask for more stuff because I’m the main breadwinner. Anyway, in the long run it’ll be the best thing possible for our household finances – me playing golf is probably the single most important thing I could do in terms of networking. There are a couple of really big potential clients who are members at Amberley, and they’re very well connected. And they get on well with me.’
‘Well, of course they do,’ I said. ‘You’re lovely. Of course they’re going to get on well with you. I just don’t see why you have to spend thousands of pounds for the privilege of knocking a little white ball across a green with them to maintain that business relationship.’
