‘Alcohol’s an analgesic, isn’t it?’ she said ruefully, taking a big mouthful of wine.
‘You’d better hope so, because you’re going to need a bucket of it by the time I’m finished with you.’
Rob put down his glass and folded his arms.
‘So? I’m waiting.’
‘I wasn’t planning on seeing him on Sunday. We were meant to have a date Friday night, but he got stuck at this conference, and couldn’t make it back to town in time.’
Rob mock-pouted. ‘Shame,’ he said.
‘But then he showed up in church! I turned around to offer the sign of peace and there he was! I nearly screamed. He’s never said anything about being religious.’
‘Money’s his religion, isn’t it? Fucking accountant.’
‘Stop it. He’s not an accountant.’
‘Accountant, banker, whatevs.’
‘Do you want to hear this story?’
‘Do you want to use that tone with me?’
Hard stare.
She swallowed.
‘No, sir,’ she said softly and he smiled for the first time.
‘Go on, then. What happened next?’
‘We left together at the end of the service, and he offered to drive us out to the country, for a nice pub lunch somewhere. Well, I didn’t have anything planned, apart from marking my year 11 coursework folders, so I took him up on it.’
‘I hope you got your marking done, young lady.’
‘I did, sir, don’t worry. But I had to do it standing up.’
He snorted.
‘No doubt. Where did he take you? No, hang on, first of all, what car does he drive?’
‘Oh, I don’t know about cars. A Mercedes, I think. Silver, quiet as a mouse.’
‘Fucking stiff. If I had his wedge, I’d drive a Bugatti Veyron.’
‘Good for you, sir. Anyway, um, he took me to some place near the river, near Maidenhead. Very nice. Lovely food, bottle of wine I’d have to take out a second mortgage to afford.’
Rob sniffed. ‘I’ll take you down Harvester for a carvery and half a lager top, if you like. Can’t compete with that, though.’
‘Sir,’ she said gently, always finding it judicious to open with an honorific if it seemed she might be overreaching herself. ‘With respect, it’s not a competition. I don’t want you to compete with him. You aren’t him. I like that you aren’t him. And I like that he isn’t you.’
He put his head to one side, a little sheepish at being caught out in his jealousy.
‘I just worry that he might dazzle you, you know. Lure you away from me.’
‘He won’t. I’m not like that.’
‘I know. So, anyway. You ate the food and drank the wine and somehow your arse got covered in stripes. How did that happen?’