Getting a Life (3 page)

'That would be great.'

'Okay. Just a minute.' She dived into the kitchen and found a vase. How did one arrange roses? She plonked them into water and took them through. 'Aren't they gorgeous?' she said, genuinely pleased with them. 'Oh, I'll get some wine.' She was burbling on. He was sitting there, looking ... well, just looking. She was so unused to entertaining a man, she realised. She must shape up, she told herself. She opened the bottle of wine and returned with it and two glasses. 'Here we go,' she said, handing one to him. 'Cheers.'

'Cheers. Thank you.' They both sipped the wine. 'Nice,' he said.

'Yes.'

'How was your day?'

'Fine. Thanks for asking.' Another pause. 'And how was yours?'

'Good, thanks.'

'This is ridiculous ...'

'This is silly...' they both said at the same time. They both laughed.

'Why is this so awkward?' she asked. 'I mean to say, we spent last evening together and chatted more or less non-stop. Why is it so difficult now it's just us on our own?'

'Maybe it's the lack of other company to set us going. Why don't we talk about college? Once you get going on something you're comfortable with, it should be easy.'

Hesitantly, she began to talk about the other lecturers. It was certainly easier speaking about something you knew about. Before long, both of them were laughing and chatting as if they had never had any problems. At last, he said,

'Not being rude, but when are we going to eat? Only I didn't have any lunch and I'm starving.'

'Oh my goodness. I never put the oven on. I'll do it right away. I can bring the starter through very soon but there will be a while before the main course is ready.' She shot out into the kitchen and switched on the oven. How could she have been so stupid? She went to the fridge and took out the smoked salmon. At least he could eat that and quell the first pangs of hunger.

'Here we go. Would you like to come to the table?'

'I'd be delighted to. Lovely. I adore smoked salmon.'

'I must have known about that.' As they ate, he talked about his family. He had a sister. Older than him and married. You are still planning to come with me? To the New Years Eve party, aren't you?'

'I'm not really sure. I guess so. Unless anyone else turns up whom you'd prefer to take.'

'Not really likely. I've never taken anyone before. And my family don't know about my extra curricula activities, by the way.'

'What the escort duties?'

'Exactly that. You promise you won't tell them?'

'So, how often do you go out on such events?'

'At most, twice a week but usually only once. It's quite well paid and I don't often have to see anyone more than once.'

'Except me. Two nights in succession. Must be getting serious,' she joked. He frowned and looked away from her.

'Serious? You are joking.'

'Of course. If you have to go to various functions with other women, it could get in the way of anything.' He flicked a smile at her.

'Look, I don't want you to really get serious about me. I ... well I can't really have anyone ... no, I don't mean that. Oh forget it.'

'I'm not sure what you mean?'

'I said forget it. That was nice,' he said as he finished. 'Thank you. Can I help with anything?'

'Oh no. It's all right thanks. The rest must be properly cooked now.' She went into the kitchen and there was smoke pouring out of the oven. 'Oh no,' she cried out, all thoughts of what he'd said forgotten.

'What's wrong?' he said, coming into the kitchen.

'I don't know. Something's gone crazy. I surely didn't put the oven on too high.'

He rushed to the oven and switched it off at the wall. He looked at the switches.

'You put the grill on, not the oven itself. It's somewhat scorched whatever that was. Sorry.'

'Oh I am so useless in the kitchen. I usually live on pizzas. You can't go far wrong with pizza.'

'I agree. So what was that exactly?'

'Oh I don't know. Chicken something or other. I might as well confess. It was a ready meal. The vegetables are all useless too. Oh Mike, I'm so sorry. It was a mess from start to finish.'

'The starter was good.'

'What could go wrong with smoked salmon? I ask you. What do you want to do now?'

'We could always phone for a pizza.'

'We could. Shall I?'

'Go on then.' She phoned the company she had used before and before long, the doorbell rang. They both tucked in, though Joanne gave up before she had eaten all of hers.

'Don't you want that?' Mike asked.

'No more. I'm stuffed.'

'Can I eat it then?'

'Course. I did make a pudding. No, honestly, I bought a pudding. No more pretending.'

'Good. That's what I want to hear. So, what is it?'

'Just a sort of mousse. Nothing too filling. While you finish off, I might just go and rescue the oven. Chuck out the burned mess and see what the damage is.'

She went into the kitchen, no longer smoke filled. She threw away her special meal offer and gave a sigh. She ought to open another bottle of wine but wasn't sure how Mike had come there. It wasn't too bad and wouldn't take much clearing.

'Would you like some more wine?' she asked.

'Wouldn't say no.'

'Okay. I'll get some. I wasn't sure how you'd arrived here. Have you driven?'

'I came on my bike,' he confessed.

'On your bike?'

'Indeed. I don't have car. Just a bike.'

'Doesn't that get difficult? With your work, I mean?'

'Not really. I usually get a taxi. It's quite easy really. Taxis are quite good around the town.'

She opened another bottle of wine and poured them a glass each.

'So, where do you actually live?' she asked.

'Flat. Across the park and in a side street. Not far at all. I can always walk back if necessary so no worries about drinking too much.'

'That's a relief. I wasn't even sure if I should offer you more wine. I'll get the pudding now, shall I?'

'Come and sit by me,' he asked her. 'You're bouncing round like a stray tennis ball.'

'That's not very flattering,' she said, laughing as she went to sit by him.

He took her wine and set it on the small table beside him. He slipped his arm round her and drew her close to him. His kiss sent her senses reeling. She felt light headed and sensuous and felt as if nothing really belonged to her any more. It must be the wine, she thought and stayed exactly where she was to enjoy more of this man.

'Wow,' he said at last.

'I agree. What was in that last glass of wine? It had a weird effect on me.'

'I suspect it was nothing to do with the wine,' he said with a smile.

'Something's coming together for me anyway. Kiss me again, please.' He obliged. It was almost an hour later when she asked if he was ready for pudding.

'I guess that would be some sort of idea. Then I think I should leave. Unless ...?'

'Maybe you should go. It's all a bit quick for me to come to terms with. I like you a lot. But I need a bit of time.'

'Okay by me. I feel the same about you. I like you a lot but I'm not ready for more. If ever,' he added. She stared at him. What was he saying?

'What did you mean by that?'

'Nothing. Ignore me. I was just thinking of something that happened to me. It's all a long time ago now. What did you say about pudding?'

Feeling sobered, Jo went to get their pudding. It was close to midnight and getting rather cold outside.

'Will you be okay?' Joanne asked slightly nervous there could be snow drowning him before he reached his home.

'I'll be fine,' he assured her. 'I'll see you again soon?'

'Tuesday afternoon, if my memory serves me right.'

'Tuesday afternoon. You're quite right. How on earth do you remember such events?'

'I have that sort of mind.'

'I'll work on mine. Thanks for a lovely evening. Burnt special meal and all.' He leaned over and kissed her once more. 'Just one little thing to remember me by.'

'Go home. And please, take care. I don't want you slipping over.'

'No worries. Bye.'

'Bye.' She watched as he went away. She very nearly called after him to come back but common sense told her not to. She went back inside, shivering at the change in the weather. Still, it was early December. What else should she expect?

As she cleared her kitchen and got ready for bed, she thought again about the extraordinary couple of days. She hoped nothing would go wrong ... knowing Trisha, she knew she'd be in for some very direct questioning. She hoped she could carry it off. She didn't want her friend to know how or when they'd met.

On Sunday she went to see her parents. She told them she had met someone and they'd spent some time together. Her mother was thrilled and began to make plans.

'You ought to bring him over at Christmas. The whole family will be here and it would make everything just wonderful.'

'Hey Mum, not so fast. We've only been out a couple of times.' She refrained from mentioning that she had paid handsomely for the first occasion and the second was only the previous evening.

'Well, the offer's there. Think about it. And let me know soon.'

'I'll think about it. I'm sure he won't want to come though. He has a family too and they are certain to want him to go to them.'

'Well don't let him persuade you to go with him.'

'Oh I'm cure he won't. I'm going to them at New Year.'

'Well now, it seems only fair that he should come with you here at Christmas.'

'I'll think about it,' she promised. Was she ready for this whole family thing yet? She really didn't think so.

Back at her house that evening, she gave thought to the whole business of Christmas. Horrible affair, was Christmas. All the family jollity and everyone getting together. She would have liked a good book, a frozen dinner and time alone. But that was unlikely to happen. Should she invite the lovely Mike? She would give it some thought. Meantime, she couldn't wait to see him again on Tuesday afternoon.

Chapter Three

The feeling of excitement was still with her when she awoke the next morning. She stared at herself in the mirror. Same Joanne. No changes. But inside, she knew that she had made a break though. She had come alive. The years when she felt slightly scared of men were over and done. She'd first felt this fear of looking foolish when she'd gone out with a whole group of people at University. She had very quickly realised she was the outsider. Joanne had been to an all girls' school and never really had much to do with the opposite sex. The main problem she seemed to have developed was when talking socially to a group. Without wishing to blow her own trumpet, she realised she probably knew more than most of them. She was very bright. She also learned that most members of the male species feel threatened by a clever woman. What a crashing bore she must have been. No great interest in pop music: rarely went to concerts or theatres. She honestly didn't know where her youth disappeared to. Now it was all about to change. No more Joanne. Jo, from now on. She experimented with the sound of the shorter name a few times, and liked it.

After the encouraging start with Mike, she promised herself she was about to become the femme fatale of the I.T. section. If men liked the occasional helpless little woman act, she would surely be able to oblige. It would probably take some doing but she was certain she could manage it. She was actually planning major life and character changes. Unfortunately, she was unable to start making changes right away as she was teaching pretty well all of the day. She felt exhausted by the time she arrived home. She noticed the answering machine flashing and was tempted to delete the message without playing it. It was bound to be her mother but she played it anyway. She played it a second time, unable to believe what she heard.

'Hi Joanne. Just wondered if you're free this evening? I fancied a film. Call me back.' There was a number. The voice was unmistakable. Mike. He'd actually called. He'd said he would but most people say that and never do. She pounced on the phone and dialled the number he'd given. She was shaking slightly ... nervous tension, she supposed. His answering machine cut in.

'Sorry ... machine speaking. Why don't you speak to it? It always tells me who called, provided you tell it who you are.' She laughed softly. Nice message.

'Hi Mike. Just got your message. Bye.'

She put the phone down and cursed herself. If she had answered it right away, she might have been in time to catch him. What would Trisha have done? Undoubtedly, she would have made some move or suggestion. She tried ringing again. The phone was engaged. Odd. She dialled again. Still engaged. She put her phone down. She could try again later. Her phone rang and she pounced on it.

'Hallo dear. Only me. How are you?'

'Oh, Mum,' she said, the disappointment clearly showing in her voice.'

'I'm sorry to disappoint you,' she snapped. 'I just wondered if you've asked him yet. For Christmas,' she added.

'I'm a bit busy at the moment,' she said, wishing she'd take the hint and clear the line.

'Oh that's nice.' Jo mouthed the words with her. She went on talking for ages.

'Look, I haven't seen him again. But I will ask him. Gotta go now. Bye.'

Suppose Mike was trying to call back? He'd be going out again if she didn't call soon. Mike's number. Still the answer phone.

'Jo? Sorry, Joanne. It's Mike.'

'Not to worry. Sorry I missed you.'

'Your phone was constantly engaged for about half an hour,' he accused. 'I tried to call you right back but ...'

'My mother.'

'I'm sorry. I'm afraid I'm working after all. A late call up. But I'll see you tomorrow?'

'Oh, of course. You're bound to be booked up anyway, at this time of year.' She felt like weeping. She couldn't bear the thought of him being charming to some other woman. Dammit, she could have booked him herself, if she'd only thought of it.

'I'm really sorry. I have to go now. I'll see you tomorrow, at college..'

She put the cover over the computer, just for the sheer novelty of not staring at the blank screen. It was almost nine when she finally sat down with some tinned spaghetti for supper. She wondered what Mike was doing. Was he eating a sumptuous meal with a lovely lady? She hoped not. She tossed the remains of the spaghetti into the bin. It tasted like tomato flavoured cardboard. She opened a bottle of wine and sat sipping it, wondering which colour wine he was drinking. She hated this job of his and promised herself she would find out why he did it and if it was really necessary. Not that it was anything to do with her, of course.