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“So, to put it bluntly, an extrovert feeds off other people.”
“Like a vampire?”
“No, idiot. They get their energy from being in the company of other people. They don’t like being alone; they need social interaction to charge them up, if that makes sense. So, they will seek out situations where they can be in company.”
“OK, and an introvert?”
“Many introverts come across as confident and outgoing, and we can be good in a crowd. The difference is that, unlike the extrovert, being in a crowd doesn’t charge us up. Social interaction drains us, and we often have to have some down time on our own to recharge afterwards. So, much as I like seeing people and socialising, I always sigh with relief when I get home and shut the front door behind me.”
Toby is silent for a long time, digesting this.
“I think,” he pronounces eventually, “that you’re the most fascinatingly confusing person I’ve ever met.”
“Thank you!” I smile at him in the darkness.
When we get to Tunbridge Wells, I direct him to a parking space near my flat, and we grab the backpacks out of the boot and head for the fish and chip shop. It’s just before ten o’clock and it’s quiet, so we have to wait while they cook our cod. As soon as we get back, I hastily grab plates, glasses and cutlery and place them on the table. I add tomato ketchup and two glasses of water, and rip open the paper, inhaling the strong scent of vinegar. I’m ravenous and I dig in eagerly. Toby, typically, takes his time unwrapping the fish, arranging it on the plate with the chips, and adding just the right amount of ketchup.
“I know it’s not as good as the place over the road from you, but I’m so hungry I don’t care,” I tell him after the first few big mouthfuls.
“I can see,” he smiles. “Would it be easier if you laid on the floor with your mouth open, and I just tipped it all in?”
“Don’t tempt me! I think watching the wedding guests eating all that sumptuous food probably didn’t help, particularly when that sandwich was the only thing I’d had to eat all day.”
Toby reaches down into his rucksack and pulls out his laptop, firing it up while he eats.
“Can I borrow your camera for a moment?” he asks. “I want to download your pictures from today, if you don’t mind.”
I stuff a couple of ketchup covered chips into my mouth before retrieving my new camera from the bag and handing it over. Toby flips open the cover, ejects the memory card and sticks it into his laptop. We resume eating in silence as the pictures download.
“I like your flat,” Toby observes later, as I clear away the empty plates and stack them in the dishwasher. “It’s very cosy. I can see why you love it so much.”
“By cosy, I assume you mean small? I’d give you the tour, but this is pretty much it.”
My flat is probably less than half the size of Toby’s. It’s in a modern, purpose-built block, and the front door opens directly into the main living space, which is one large open plan room. The kitchen is positioned at one end of it, with my dining table next to it. At the other end is my L-shaped sofa and the TV, along with my bookshelves, which are crammed with travel books and pictures of friends and family. There’s a small corridor leading to my bedroom and bathroom, and that’s it. It’s not big or lavish, but it’s mine and I love it. The only thing it lacks are a couple of houseplants, but I learned early on that frequent travel and houseplants don’t mix.
“It’s nice though. Very you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t really know. It’s a very feminine space, but not floral or chintzy. Does that make sense? It’s sophisticated – Chanel rather than Laura Ashley.”
I decide that’s a compliment and smile at him, just as the progress bar on his laptop screen disappears, indicating that all the images from my card have downloaded.
“Right, let’s have a quick look, shall we?”
I feel suddenly nervous, like he’s marking my homework, and I’m astonished to discover I’m holding my breath, awaiting his verdict. He flicks through them silently, pausing every so often to examine one in detail.
“These are excellent,” he declares when he’s seen them all. “They’re exactly what I was looking for. You’ve got an eye for the details, and you’ve thought about composition and depth of field. I love the picture of the bride’s shoes in the box particularly, but there are a lot here that I can use. Thank you!”
“You’re welcome,” I smile, blushing slightly from the compliments. “You’ve been a good teacher.”
Toby pulls the card out of the laptop and pops it back into my camera, then slips his laptop back into the rucksack. He rummages around in one of the other pockets for a bit, and then retrieves an envelope, which he hands to me. I open it and find it stuffed with twenty-pound notes.
“What’s this?” I ask him.
“Your fee. It’s five hundred pounds, I hope that’s OK?”
“Oh Toby, you don’t need to pay me. I enjoyed it!”
