Page 49 of When We Were Young

FHD has come up behind me as I’m swallowing a great glug of wine. I’m coughing and spluttering and trying to breathe all at the same time. Wine is coming out of my nose, and I have to wipe it along the back of my hand.

‘Oh God, I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘I startled you.’

‘It’s fine,’ I wheeze.

I need a drink to stop the tickle in my throat, but that’s the last of my wine. My eyes stream as I embark on a fresh bout of coughing. I hold up a finger and make a face that I hope says, ‘excuse me while I nip to the loo’.

In the mirror, my face is dark crimson, and my low-cut top shows a vast expanse of blotchy décolletage. I’m sweaty and my eyes are bloodshot, only adding to the delightful green bruise that remains from the car accident. Then I remember I have no job and my teenage daughter has moved out. I have far more important things to worry about.

I make my way back to FHD who’s chatting amiably with the barman. He exudes such confidence. What must that be like? To be at ease wherever you go? I remember my ‘get a life’ motto – I need to be more like him even if I have to fake it. ‘Shall we try that again?’ I ask.

He orders our drinks and we find a table in the corner.

I ask about his holiday. He tells me about his trip to Devon and then I draw a blank. I sit facing him, dismissing every question that pops into my head. When was the last time you went on a date? Are you on any dating apps? How long have you been divorced? Who split up with who? EvenIknow that’s not what you’re supposed to talk about on dates.

‘You look like you’re trying to solve a riddle,’ he says.

I laugh. ‘Sorry.’ Suddenly I think of a question that’s not terrible: ‘So, what do you do?’

‘I was hoping you’d ask me that,’ he says. ‘I’m in IT.’

‘IT?’

‘Yeah. I tell people to switch it off and back on again.’

‘Fascinating. Tell me more.’

‘Well, people ring up and they say they’re having a problem and I say “try switching it off and back on again”. And they do and it works and they’re all grateful and pay me lots of money.’

‘You must be very proud.’

‘A friend and I set up the business eight years ago now.’

‘Are you still friends?’ I ask, cheekily.

‘Funnily enough, we are.’

We both take a drink, and the silence is only a little awkward.

‘I already know whatyoudo,’ he says. ‘Very important work at the primary school.’

‘Not anymore.’

He pauses, his drink halfway to his lips. ‘You got a new job? Where are you off to?’

‘No, a sane person would find another job first, then hand in their notice. I got angry and quit on the spot.’

‘What happened?’ He sips his drink.

‘Long story.’

His smile is slow and lazy. ‘I’m here all night.’

‘I lost my temper with the Head and told her to stick her job.’

‘Ooh,’ he chuckles. ‘Sounds juicy! She’s got quite a reputation for being a bit of a dragon. What did she do to piss you off?’

I don’t want to tell him she accused me of flirting with him. ‘It was a catalogue of things, really. Ten years’ worth. It all came to a head over nothing in the end.’