Page 43 of Playing the Field
I wonder if now is the time to confess that we’re dating, while they’re both feeling so positive towards him. But the reminder that he won’t be in Hamcott forever makes me think twice about it. Ben and I haven’t discussed what will happen when he goes back to Millford so, much as I don’t want to admit it to myself, there’s always the possibility I won’t even need to come clean.
His ears must be burning, because my phone pings with an incoming text from him, to tell me he’s got an idea for an evening adventure.
‘That your mystery man?’ Dad asks. ‘We promise not to bite if you let us meet him.’
But I’m already back to thinking I’ll cross that bridge later, and only once I know whether Ben is going to be in my life for as long as I want him to be.
Ben’s adventure involves another drive to the South Downs. He doesn’t tell me where we’re going till we pull up at a golf club high up in the hills, which has a driving range alongside its swanky clubhouse that faces out over a lush green valley.
‘I saw the look on your face when your dad said the bays were full earlier, so I thought you might like to come and have a little hit,’ he explains.
‘This is stunning.’ I look out at the hillside surrounding us. ‘It’s such an amazing spot for it.’
‘You’re welcome to share my clubs,’ he offers, ‘or we can borrow a set from inside. Mine are designed specifically for my height, so you might find them a bit awkward.’
‘Is now a good time to mention the reason I looked disappointed earlier is because I’ve never actually hit a golf ball before?’
‘Are you kidding? I thought...’
‘I’ve played mini golf and I do like that, but I haven’t ever tried the real thing.’
‘Then I’m even happier I brought you here. What a great place to start. And this is far more satisfying than mini golf once you get the hang of it. I’m not sure how good a teacher I’ll be but I can tell you some of the things my coach told me, to get you started.’
‘Your coach? Is this going to be another thing you’re a secret expert at then?’
‘I wouldn’t say I’m a pro, but I do have a respectable handicap.’
I roll my eyes. ‘Come on then. You’d better show me how’s it done.’
And he drives his first ball so far I can barely see where it’s gone, until it plops into the lake at the bottom of the valley.
I have a go after that, to see if I have any natural talent before he starts trying to guide me. I don’t. I miss the ball completely on my first two attempts and move it only an inch on the third and only then because it’s rolled off the tee.
I’m suddenly grateful we’ve got the place to ourselves. Despite the beautiful surroundings, there’s no one else using the range, either because it’s dinner time or because we’re in the middle of nowhere. With only four tee-off spots, people might not want to drive all the way out here without the guarantee of a space being free.
Ben manages to control his giggles as I swing and miss a fourth time, just about. But that’s largely down to the fact that he moves in behind me after that, placing his hands on top of mine so he can show me what to do. With his arms wrapped around me I think we both start thinking about other things beside golf, so a lot of kissing happens in between working on my swing.
‘Is this how you got taught?’ I ask.
‘Not exactly. My coach was a middle-aged man,’ he says, laughing. Then he releases me and backs away so I can take another shot. ‘Not because I don’t trust you, but I do quite like my teeth.’
‘I’ve got this,’ I assure him, determined to pull off a shot that will impress him.
But although I do connect with the ball, the momentum of the club makes me spin right round till I’m facing him instead of the valley. He stifles a snigger, then apologises, but his eyes are brimming with amusement. When my next try hits the fake grass rather than the tee, he snorts as he tries not to laugh and I get the giggles myself from watching his reddening face trying to hold it in.
‘You look like you’re trying to murder a seal,’ he gasps, which sets us both off even more.
‘You’re the one who taught me!’ I’m clutching my stomach now.
‘I know, and I can only say I’m sorry. I did say I might not make the best teacher.’
‘If you hadn’t kept distracting me...’
‘I can’t help it. You’re very distracting.’
I turn away from him and line my club up again, taking a deep breath and mentally willing the ball to behave for me. I’m going to do this, I amnotgoing to let it beat me. And thankfully– at last!– I manage to send it sailing down the hill for the first and only time.
‘Oh thank God,’ Ben gasps. ‘That was killing me.’
