She bought a blue flowery dress in House of Fraser with three-quarter sleeves, simple in style without being frumpy, and a matching pair of blue suede wedge sandals. As she waited in the queue to pay for them, she thought back to how she’d been in the run-up to her first date with Alex. Bella had gone shopping with her for something wow to wear and she’d been giddy as a kipper. She’d even bought new lingerie. It all felt like so long ago, another lifetime, one that lay behind a locked door with no key.
On the Sunday, she stood in front of the full-length mirror in the bathroom and checked her reflection. She’d had to reapply her lipstick because her hand was shaking so much that she’d gone over the lip line twice. She was wearing her hair loose tonight. It was so long, swishy and shiny that she’d once been asked by a teen in town where she got her extensions done.
Seven o’clock came and went. By five past seven Laurie’s nerves were taut as harp strings, when she saw the arc of headlights swing into the drive.
‘Oh crikey, he’s here,’ she said aloud to herself. She couldn’t have been more jumpy if armed police had turned up.
She picked up her bag, her keys, said bye to Keith Richards and hoped that he’d wish her luck. Her new shoes felt too unfamiliar, too high; she had a vision of herself falling over, landing in a heap at Pete’s feet. Pete – her DATE. The word screamed in her head as if Meredith had said it.
Pete was out of the car and was walking towards her. ‘I’m so sorry I was late. There were roadworks at the end of the street and I thought the traffic light had broken, it took so long to change and I don’t have your number, do I, otherwise I’d have rung to tell you.’ He was waffling, flustered as she was. He wondered if he should kiss her hello, rejected that as an idea, felt it was too much. She looked even more beautiful with her hair down. He was right not to kiss her hello because he might not have let her go.
He opened the car door for her and she tried to get in gracefully, a simple act hampered by anxiety. She sat as prim and proper in the passenger seat as a teacher from Little House on the Prairie.
As he got in to his side of the car Pete knocked his head on the door frame.
‘I have never done that in my life before today,’ he said, mortally embarrassed by his clumsiness and she laughed then. The ridiculous bubble of tension that was enclosing them had popped.
‘You look lovely,’ he said.
‘Thank you,’ she said, overriding the stupid compulsion to bat away the compliment. ‘So do you.’
He did too. Black trousers, jacket, pale grey open-necked shirt. A waft of his aftershave reached her nostrils. It wasn’t one she recognised, but it suited him. Bergamot, lavender, fresh, light. Alex wore Rose Smoke by Atelier, heavy, spicy, exotic.
‘Hungry?’ he asked her.
‘I’ve had nothing since breakfast,’ she answered, not saying that she was too nervous to eat.
Pete grinned. ‘So I’m in for an expensive night then.’
‘I fully expect to pay my way,’ said Laurie.
‘Oh, shush. You can get the next one.’ He’d meant it as a joke but began to worry that she’d think he was too pushy. What a minefield. He hadn’t even felt this nervous on his first proper date with Tara. Then again, she’d been so self-assured and clear in her attraction to him that he knew exactly where he stood.
‘Any fires since Wednesday?’ asked Laurie.
‘A small one in a wood. Homeless person decided to have a barbecued rabbit and ended up burning down his tent with all his worldly possessions in it, which admittedly weren’t much.’
‘Poor soul,’ said Laurie. ‘We don’t realise how lucky we are, do we?’
‘We had a whip-round for him. Got him a new tent and some bits. And yes, us people who live safe and secure in houses are lucky. I saw you had a For Sale notice up on yours. Any idea where you’ll move to?’
‘None,’ said Laurie. ‘The plan is to sell first and then maybe move into something rented until I decide. No point in getting in a chain or setting my heart on a property only to lose it because I can’t get rid of mine. I’m not expecting it to go quickly. The Elms, two doors away took over four years to sell.’
‘That’s my next job,’ said Pete. ‘Tara wanted a new house but I prefer old ones. I like a project.’
‘Handy, are you?’
‘I am.’ Pete puffed out his chest. ‘Dad was a joiner and we learned at his knee. Griff drives his wife mad by constantly building things and knocking them down. She once came home from work to find her kitchen ripped out because he was bored.’
‘Blimey.’
‘The one he put in in its place more than made up for it but she was slightly aggrieved at the time.’
Silence fell between them, a companionable one though, like a thick, warm blanket as they drove on towards the quiet hamlet of Lower Hoodley where Firenze was situated, on the lip of a nice big splodge of Yorkshire countryside.
Once it had been a run-down establishment called ‘Burgerov’ until the chef there bought it and turned it into a fabulous eaterie which served Italian food that tasted so authentic, it was as if it had just been flown in from Puglia. Pete considered himself lucky that he’d managed to get a booking as it was always busy, but fortune had favoured the brave on this occasion.
‘I was nervous about tonight,’ admitted Pete, as they pulled up into the restaurant car park. ‘I don’t think I’ve been as nervous about going on a date since I was fourteen.’
‘Me too,’ said Laurie. ‘But then I reasoned a first date after what we’ve been through was bound to be a toughie.’
She smiled at him and he felt his heart give a jaunty bounce inside him.
‘I’m not any more though, I’m looking forward to it so much,’ he said, then his stomach gave a well-timed keen of hunger which made them both hoot. ‘Come on, Laurie, let’s kill all the daft anxiety and stuff ourselves stupid.’
Laurie had eaten here once before, with Alex, though it wasn’t quite grand enough for him. Not expensive enough, because Alex equated cost with quality, but Laurie had enjoyed it far more than many of the stupidly priced places Alex had taken her to. The restaurant had undergone a total refurbishment since she had been there last: now it featured crumbly stucco walls, a blue ceiling with soft white clouds painted on it, pale warm lighting and a stunning central fountain which provided a backdrop of gentle water sounds and changing colours. They were inside a building in South Yorkshire in mid-autumn, but could have easily been outside on the seam of the Mediterranean on a balmy summer evening.
While they perused the menu, Pete sipped from a pint of Peroni and Laurie from a glass of Shiraz.
‘Lovely, isn’t it here?’ she said.
‘You’d think you were abroad, wouldn’t you?’ replied Pete. ‘It wasn’t like this the last time I came. They’ve done it all up.’
‘I love Italy.’
‘Me too. I’ve booked some time off work early next year. I don’t really want to be around for . . . you know . . . the anniversary of . . . so I might take myself off to Venice. There will be a carnival on.’
Laurie opened up her mouth to tell him that she had booked a holiday too, when the waiter arrived to take their order and they had to quickly turn their attention back to the menu to decide.