Page 51 of Playing the Field
‘It’s hard to pack when you don’t know where you’re going.’ I think this justifies it.
He pretends to buckle under the weight as he hoists it into his boot. ‘Have you got bricks in there?’
I wince and shake my head. ‘It’s just shoes and toiletries. I did think I was better at travelling light.’
‘You’d have needed a shipping container for your European trip,’ he says, laughing. ‘At least you won’t have to carry this anywhere though. There might be a bit of uneven ground at the other end, but I think you’ll manage it.’
I’m even more intrigued now. I know we can’t be going too far away because he’s told me we’ll arrive in time for dinner. But somewhere with rough ground within a two- or three-hour radius? It could be anywhere. Camber Sands or Hastings or somewhere else by the sea? But he reckons it’s somewhere I won’t have been to before. Oxford or Cambridge perhaps? But I’m not sure I’ve ever mentioned that I haven’t visited either, and they don’t exactly scream rough terrain. Plus the warm jumper recommendation suggests it will be somewhere breezy– a boat trip maybe?
‘Have you chartered a yacht?’ I ask him, once we’re on the road.
‘I have not. I’d rather do that when we goawayaway, with nicer weather and a flatter sea.’
I can’t help smiling at the when, not if.
‘A barge then?’ I remember Phoebs doing a river cruise with her ex once and saying it was romantic.
‘Not that, either,’ Ben replies with a grin. ‘You’ll just have to wait and see.’
‘And you said the drive will take how long?’
‘I didn’t.’ He laughs. ‘But don’t worry, there are emergency snacks in the glove box, if you get hungry.’
I flip the catch and discover a multipack of Smarties inside, which makes my heart swell. He remembered! I reach across and give his thigh an appreciative squeeze. ‘Did you know the UK is the only place where the orange ones are flavoured? And that the blue ones are coloured with sea algae?’
‘I did not know either of those things, but I think I’ve just worked out what yourMastermindspecialist subject would be.’
‘I can also tell you that when they were first invented the brown ones were coffee-flavoured and that the boxes used to have letters inside the lids. I think I’m done after that though. How about you, what would your specialist subject be?’
‘It should probably be something like Premier League goal scorers between 2018 and 2023, but realistically it would have to be something easier, like Oasis lyrics.’
‘Do you know them all? Let me test you...’
After three failed attempts, he admits it’s not so easy when you can’t hear the tune.
I can’t help laughing. ‘I hope you’re better at the general knowledge round.’
We decide to find out by searching for quizzes on my phone to entertain us for the rest of the journey. And by the time Ben pulls on to a dirt track at the end of a winding country lane in the heart of Dorset, we’ve concluded we know about as much as each other.
‘This is it,’ he announces, even though we appear to be in the middle of nowhere. The last farmhouse we passed was a good mile or two back. There’s a little wooden signpost pointing into the trees though, withShepherd’s Hutetched into the bark, so I finally know where we’ll be spending the next two nights.
Ben parks up and carries my case the rest of the way down the track, with his own bag slung over his shoulder, and on the other side of the trees we find a stilted wooden hut in a fenced well-kept garden with uninterrupted views of the lush countryside. There’s an outdoor hot tub, an ornate bistro set and a firepit surrounded by a curved bench, with a glowing pile of logs filling the air with the sweet smell of wood smoke.
‘Nice touch,’ Ben says approvingly. ‘And it’s actually bigger than I expected from the pictures online.’
I’m already heading for the steps, eager to see the inside. Behind the wide double doors that can be opened right out is a kitchenette brightly painted in cream and oxford blue, with a matching sleeping area at one end of the hut and a shower room at the other. On the counter there’s a welcome basket filled with breakfast essentials and a bottle of red wine. A decent one, which Ben admits he preordered before we arrived.
‘And if I’m not mistaken...’ He reaches down to open the fridge and there’s champagne and a platter of nibbles inside– cold meat, cheese, olives, focaccia, sundried tomatoes, hummus and nuts. ‘Yep, I think that’s everything we need for tonight.’
He turns back to face me and I slide my arms round his waist. ‘Thank you for this, Ben. I love it.’
He grins. ‘So what do you reckon, quick bite to eat first or straight into the hot tub, before it gets dark?’
‘We should eat.’ If I can feel my stomach rumbling then I know he must be ravenous. ‘We can stargaze in the hot tub later.’
‘Excellent choice,’ he says, grinning. ‘I was hoping you’d say that.’
We carry the platter to the outside table so we can dine al fresco. With no noise from the road and not another soul around, I don’t think there could be a more tranquil setting.
