Margaret began explaining the rules, Paula interrupting when she didn’t think Margaret was being clear enough (which turned out to be most sentences), and we started to play.
The first round went well, mostly because Paula won and the wine was flowing. I was getting the gist of the game. Luke was talking to Paula and Mags, and had somehow managed to tell them about the deal we had made with Grandad.
‘So I’m now courting Lottie the old-fashioned way,’ he said proudly.
‘And you’ve persuaded Teddy to date again,’ Paula said, her eager eyes swivelling over to Grandad’s table. There he sat, innocently. Should I send up a flare warning?
‘That sounds very romantic,’ Margaret said, smiling sweetly at me, two dimples appearing in her cheeks.
‘You need to get yourself a new man, Mags. First husband,’ she said, barely lowering her voice, ‘overbearing, dominated Mags here, didn’t he?’
Margaret nodded slowly, a blush building. ‘He was quite forthright on occasion.’
‘Oh, don’t look now, Mags, but it’s Howard, he is such a dish. Hi, Howard,’ Paula cooed, almost spilling her white wine spritzer in an enthusiastic wave.
Howard saluted her from his chair. He seemed to have about three wine glasses lined up in front of him and no cards. Paula made her excuses and headed his way. Luke went to fetch more wine.
‘Sorry’ – I turned to my right – ‘is it Mags or Margaret?’ I asked, liking this softly spoken woman with the kind eyes and not wanting to offend her by using the wrong name.
‘It’s Margaret. I always wanted to be Maggie actually,’ she added in a quiet rush, ‘but my parents wouldn’t let me and then I suppose it felt a little silly, changing it. Stephen, my husband, told me Margaret suited me. I was never sure what he meant by that.’ She trailed away, the flush creeping up from the bottom of her neck as she darted her eyes away.
I wanted to reach across and grab her hand but instead I just said, ‘I don’t think it’s ever too late. If you want to be Maggie, you be Maggie.’
She sighed, adjusting one of the clips in her hair. ‘Young women today are amazing,’ she said. ‘You’re so confident. You know what you want and you don’t mind saying it. Most of us never really spoke our minds. Feminism wasn’t for everyone and it’s a bit late to start now.’
‘I hadn’t looked at it like that. Sometimes I just feel completely exhausted wanting it all. You know: the job, the relationship, kids someday, hobbies, friends, family. Then I feel guilty because lots of women didn’t get to do all of this. Imagine the frustration, all that talent that we will just never know about.’
We had failed to notice Paula had returned. ‘Talent. I know. I was just saying they keep dying on us. They’re quite literally a dying breed. There is no talent, Lottie. None. Well, your grandad and a couple of others but . . . ’
‘So, how do you two know each other?’ Luke asked, returning with drinks and oblivious to the steer in conversation.
‘Paula and I play golf together. She’s very good,’ Margaret said, nodding earnestly at Paula, who shrugged and drained the rest of her glass.
‘I am very good.’
‘Oh, my grandad plays golf. I’m sure he’d love a game.’
‘Well, the thing is, bar one morning a week the course here is men only so we have to get a minibus to the course a few miles away,’ Margaret explained.
I thought I’d misheard her. ‘Er, one morning – is that really true? Are they aware it’s 2020?’
‘It’s not 2020 in Maplelands Club,’ Paula sniffed, looking around for Luke, who had gone to talk to Geoffrey.
‘No matter,’ Margaret said with a small wave of her hand. ‘What do you both do?’
I wanted to find out a little more but instead I took another sip of my drink. ‘I’m a barrister, and Luke’s a graphic designer.’
‘But what do you do for fun?’ Margaret asked, her amber eyes focused on me.
I paused, wine glass halfway to my lips. ‘Fun?’
She gave me an encouraging smile and nodded.
‘Um, we, we live together. That can be fun.’
Her smile was fading slightly.
‘And we sometimes go for a drink. Out, you know,’ I continued, knowing this all sounded pretty sad, even to me.
Jeez, this woman who must have been about fifty years older than me had more of a buzzing social scene than I did. We go out for drinks. Edgy, Lottie, really edgy and cool.
‘Oh, sometimes we go to the cinema.’ I said it way too enthusiastically. Margaret was just giving me pitying nods now.
Maybe Grandad had been right to get us to go along to these things. Luke was standing at the bar laughing with Geoffrey and Grandad and I felt my heart swell for him. When we had first started dating we had been out loads. We had gone bowling, we had gone to museum exhibitions, art shows, the theatre, comedy nights; we’d gone on day trips at weekends, punting in Oxford, surfing in North Devon. We’d even gone to Amsterdam on the Eurostar just to cycle and eat our way round the city. I remember clutching his arm as we had rolled, giggling, out of the Soho Theatre bar, a standup night that had gone horribly wrong when the audience turned on the poor comedian. We had planned these minibreaks and days away, taking the train, relishing just being in each other’s company.
When had we stopped planning the adventures? Or had I stopped? Hadn’t Luke suggested we hire some bikes, cycle along the Thames only the other week? When had we last really spent any quality time together? Our conversations now revolved around the recycling (yes, the food recycling is gross but it makes the main bin so much less gross that it’s totally worth doing, and you really do feel you are doing a bit of good), the money we are saving for a deposit on a house that we are never going to be able to afford, discussions about whether you can really raise children on a houseboat (Luke thinks it would be slippery and ‘an accident waiting to happen’), facts about the Tube that day (usual theme: it’s disgusting – we both want to kill ourselves), how we should see that film/exhibition/show but then turn to Netflix for the eighteenth episode of a box set neither of us can remember.
Margaret was still sitting beside me, politely waiting for my weird daydream to end. Was it my turn to speak?
‘So, yeah, we have loads of fun.’
I looked over at Grandad, roaring with laughter at something Geoffrey was saying. Arjun and Howard had joined them too and I watched him, his friends surrounding him, Luke slapping him on the back.
‘Loads.’
I was quiet on the journey back, mulling things over still, and distracted by the fact I needed to go over what I was doing the next day. The evening hadn’t been a complete waste of time but I probably wouldn’t be joining the next biannual whist meet.
It had been good to meet Margaret and we had swapped email addresses. I wanted to send her some links to websites and podcasts by inspiring women I thought she’d like. Subject heading: It’s never too late for feminism.
Grandad had been a bit flustered as we were leaving. ‘This wasn’t really your crowd, was it? We shouldn’t have started it like that. Howard did warn me. Keep the faith, Lottie,’ he said, and the passion in his voice made me laugh and nod.