Page 43 of Just for the Season

We walk up the stairs, past Simon’s front door, and up again, in silence.

It does all feel a little awkward if I’m honest.

But it shouldn’t, I tell myself. We both know this is entirely fake.

‘So,’ I say, a little too loudly, as I open my door. ‘Would you like a glass of water?’

‘Great,’ says Marcus.

He remains standing at the door, which leads directly onto an open-plan kitchen-dining room-lounge, and then joins me at the table, when I sit down with two glasses of water.

‘The question is,’ I say, ‘whether Mrs Bittern will be watching for your departure, and how long she’ll expect you to stay.’

‘Oh my God. She probably will be watching. Feels as though I probably shouldn’t leave too quickly.’

‘Yeah.’ I snigger slightly and do not articulate that I’m wondering whether Mrs Bittern will be imagining that we’ll be having sex and judge Marcus heavily if he doesn’t stay for that long. And, oh no, I really wish that thought hadn’t just occurred to me because now I’m suddenly extremely conscious of Marcus’s full lower lip, and his strong-looking hands holding his glass, the breadth of his shoulders… basically all the things that make him very attractive…

And… yep, I do not want to look as though I’m ogling. I do not want to embarrass myself any further in front of this man.

‘We could watch a film?’ I suggest.

‘That’s actually an excellent idea,’ Marcus says. ‘Because, obviously, it’s a good way to pass time, and also it’s something to talk about that we’ve done together.’

‘Nice thinking,’ I say, not at all put out, honestly, genuinely, that he clearly wasn’t having any of the kind of lustful thoughts that I was having. And, I mean, I wouldn’t act on them, for so many reasons. Firstly, the big one: I’m off men. Especially extremely handsome, fun and nice ones who probably have people throwing themselves at them left, right and centre so would be unlikely to have any long-term interest in me. Secondly, also a big one, I’m here full-time in Milbury until I find a job and somewhere to live in London again (or my tenants move out) and I’ll obviously always return regularly to see Gran and Ellie, and it is not a big village, and I’m not a big fan of bumping into exes, so I don’t want to turn Marcus into an ex. ‘Are there any recent films you haven’t seen and would like to watch?’

‘There’s a lot I haven’t seen,’ Marcus tells me. ‘I watch stuff with the kids, but if they aren’t around I tend to work in the evenings. I don’t think I’ve ever sat and watched a film by myself. And I don’t tend to go to the cinema. So… in summary… you choose.’ He suddenly lifts a finger, as though struck by an idea. ‘Unless you’d like to watch Star Wars and finally understand what you’ve been missing out on?’

‘I have watched Star Wars and the correct description is not “missing out on” but “very luckily avoiding”.’ I suddenly feel guilty. ‘Although obviously if you really want to watch Star Wars again let’s do it. I kind of feel, though, that maybe you should branch out into something a little different from stuff you can watch with eleven-year-old boys.’

‘Happy to branch out. Into…?’

‘Erm.’ I frown. ‘I’m actually having a bit of a mind blank. Also, I feel a huge responsibility because what if you don’t like what we watch? That would be bad given that you don’t watch that many films.’

‘Okay, let’s watch the number-one film showing right now on Prime.’

‘Good idea,’ I approve. ‘And, even if we hate it, at least we’ll know what everyone’s talking about.’

Several very, very annoying minutes later, we finally have my Prime account working on the flat’s TV and are both staring dubiously at the screen.

‘I haven’t even heard of that,’ I say.

‘Me neither.’

‘Do you like post-apocalyptic horror with a side helping of erotic romance?’ I ask.

‘Take it or leave it?’

‘Hmm.’ I reread the little blurb. ‘Maybe we should just do it. Find out what everyone’s talking about.’

‘Which everyone, though? Do you think either of us knows anyone who will have watched it?’

‘Jack might have. He watches a lot of what to me looks like total crap.’

‘Okay. Fine. Let’s do it. Let’s get up to date on total crap.’ Marcus takes the remote from where it’s lying between us on the sofa and presses play.

We both jump at the immense volume it starts at, and Marcus hurriedly presses buttons on the remote until it settles at a non-eardrum-splitting level. And then we lean back against the sofa and basically just stare at the screen.

‘Erm,’ I say after a few minutes, trying not to physically wriggle in embarrassment. ‘It’s going quite heavy on the, um, erotic romance side.’ I wince and look away as we get some serious full-frontal stuff. Apparently post-apocalypse certain things get, um, enhanced.