‘Thank you, these are lovely, but you shouldn’t have, really.’
‘Oh, it’s my pleasure. It’s been a while since—’ He pauses, awkwardly.
‘Since you had a date?’ Heck, there’s no point in avoiding the obvious.
Ronan casts me a rather nervous glance. ‘Well, yes, a date – I was rather hoping that’s what this is.’
‘Take a seat. Maybe you can uncork the wine while I dish up? I think the bottle you brought will be a safer bet than the one I randomly picked off the supermarket shelf.’
That raises a smile too. Ronan is wearing navy trousers and a slim-fit white shirt, which really suits him, and I can see he’s made an effort tonight. I think he’s even styled his hair, as it’s usually a little wayward on the top. I pull out the plates that are warming in the grill, trying not to look his way as he rolls back his sleeves and turns his attention to uncorking the wine.
We work in a companionable silence as I ferry the casserole across to the table, then the dish of crispy roast potatoes. After pouring a little wine, Ronan picks up the small box of matches next to the candle in the centre of the table to light it.
‘I like that you’re a candle person,’ he says, his words softly spoken. ‘This is vanilla?’
I nod. ‘Yes. I think it’s my TV brain and the years I’ve spent being reminded about lighting, and the mood of a room.’
We’re side by side staring down at the table and I turn my head to look up into his eyes. My mouth has gone dry.
‘Um… well, take a seat and let’s eat!’
I was a bit nervous that acknowledging this was a date might make things a little awkward between us, but I needn’t have worried. In between two helpings we chat almost non-stop, mainly about childhood memories. Ronan admits he yearned to travel.
‘You’ve obviously always been curious and an explorer,’ I add, as I watch him finish clearing his plate.
‘Now that was good.’ He sighs, relinquishing his knife and fork. He wipes his mouth on a napkin, sitting back in his chair to relax. ‘My mother, Eve, was over-protective, and the truth is that there were occasions when I felt hemmed in. I spent a lot of time in my room either reading or watching films and it opened up a whole new world.’
‘It sounds like a rather solitary existence for a child.’
He shrugs his shoulders.
‘It was all I knew. I was the centre of her life. I guess in my head I wanted to become this intrepid explorer, wielding a machete as I stumbled through the jungle discovering ancient ruins. Or white-water rafting, to reach some far-flung village, away from the beaten track.’
‘Ah, now I understand. And that wasn’t such a bad thing in your case.’
He cradles the wine glass in his hands, staring down into it.
‘I felt it was my job, well, my role, to keep her happy; to make up for the fact that she loved my father, but he didn’t love us. They were never married and had never lived together, so she only ever used her maiden name, Arnoult. When, eventually, he did marry he had two daughters, but there was no contact and hadn’t been for years. I doubt they even knew of our existence at that point. To my cost, much later I came to learn just how badly he wanted a son, but one who was under his roof and his control.’
The undertone of bitterness he can’t hide is poignant. To be rejected once is hurtful, to be rejected twice is unforgivable.
‘She must miss you, even after seven years, but I’m sure she understands why France was such a draw,’ I offer.
He raises his head. ‘There were two reasons I turned my back on the UK and my mother’s well-being was one of them, ironically. It forced her to take a step back and start living her own life before it was too late, but it was tough on us both for a while. We’re gradually repairing our relationship, but she hasn’t totally forgiven me yet. But it did force her to look for ways to get out and meet people, including a widower named Frank, when she joined an art class. They’ve been seeing each other for two years now and he’s good for her. In all honesty, there were times I felt I couldn’t breathe, if that makes sense.’
It’s a sad story, but something he said has made me think about my own family rift.
‘It must be a relief for you. Family stuff can be hard to deal with sometimes. I haven’t seen my older brother for a few years now and it does hurt; the family no longer feels complete. It’s heartbreaking for my mum. Being on her own, she tends to spend a lot of time worrying about us all, even though we try to encourage her to lead a full life. My dad spent most of his working life travelling, so she was very much the rock in our family. It worked for us, but maybe for my brother, Jake, being brought up in a household full of women, he was the one who missed Dad’s influence the most. It never occurred to me that as the oldest he might feel he had to step up. I thought he was just full of himself. He’s a bit like that.’
The candle between us flutters as the melted wax swamps the wick. The light dies and the last few puffs of smoke are blackened, filling the air with an acrid smell.
‘Hmmmm. Time to clear the table, I think. Are we going to sit and finish this wine, or did you drive? I could put the kettle on.’
‘I came by taxi as parking isn’t the easiest here,’ he admits.
We clear the plates between us, and I quickly run a sink full of water, washing as we talk. On several occasions our arms brush as we work around each other in the confined space. I’m certainly not complaining and neither is he.
‘If you carry the glasses over to the sofas, I’ll dry my hands and find another candle. Can you turn the side light on, too? Thanks.’
The evening is going so well and I can’t remember the last time I felt this level of connection on a date. I find Ronan fascinating to talk to and there is definitely that little physical thrill thing going on between us. Maybe it’s because I’m not on my home turf and France adds that frisson of being able to let my hair down, away from anyone who knows me. Whichever, it’s clear we are both enjoying it.
When I walk over to Ronan, I hesitate momentarily about whether it will look presumptuous to sit next to him on the sofa rather than opposite him, but there’s something about the twinkle in his eye and I decide to take a seat next to him. He hands me a full glass of wine and raises his in a toast.
‘To a fabulous evening with great food and wonderful company. Thank you, Lexie!’
We touch glasses; our eyes are on each other as we each take a sip, before settling back in our seats.
‘So, are you ready for tomorrow?’
‘Yes. There comes a point when you can’t really do any more and you just need to get on with it. The nerves are beginning to kick in, but it’s been a weird afternoon, if I’m honest with you, and I’ve been a little distracted.’
He frowns, putting his glass back down on the coffee table in front of us.
‘Distracted? There isn’t a problem, is there?’
‘No. Everything is fine. This is family stuff. A part of the reason why I’m here, as you know, is to do with my grandma.’
He raises both eyebrows. ‘I’m glad you mentioned that. I trawled through some of the info on my database, but I haven’t found anything as yet. Have you discovered some new information?’