Page 22 of Wild Swimming at Croftwood Lake
‘It’s so unusual for a man your age to be unattached. Let me do what I can to help.’
He hated that she thought he was a charity case. Hated that she hadn’t cottoned on that he was too old to be an attractive prospect for anyone.
‘Really, Mama. It’s very kind of you, but I’ve arranged to go out for dinner with someone, so there’s no need for you to worry about me.’ He could hardly believe how easily he’d blurted out something that wasn’t remotely true, without even thinking about it.
His mother couldn’t hide her astonishment. ‘Whomever have you asked?’
‘She’s only recently moved here, so I doubt you’d know her.’ Although it was an outright lie to tell his mother he’d asked someone out, he had thought that perhaps, at some point, he might ask Nora. He was still convinced she must be married or attached to someone. Why wouldn’t she be? But he could ask her under the guise of wanting to know more about the lake swimming. So even if she had a partner, it’s not as if it had to be strictly a date or anything like that.
‘Oh, darling. Well done.’
Somehow, it made him feel even worse that his mother was a well-mannered step away from jumping up and down and cheering. That the idea of him taking a woman out for dinner should be cause for celebration was yet another mark on the tragic tally that was his life.
‘Thank you,’ he said, tightly.
‘When is the big night?’
Oh god, he hadn’t thought this through at all. ‘Next week sometime. I forget now.’ He patted his breast pocket, and looked around the table, pretending to have lost track of his phone.
‘You must let me know so that I can tell Mrs Milton not to cook for you that evening.’
It was starting to feel like the butterfly effect; a tiny fib was beginning to blossom into a web of lies he already knew he was going to struggle to keep track of. The best thing he could do now was to actually arrange something for an evening next week, even if it was to take Seb up on his ongoing offer to go to the pub.
‘I will. Right, I must be off,’ he said, more to put an end to the conversation than because he had anything pressing to do. ‘What are you doing with yourself today?’
‘Penny is picking me up. We’re going to the pictures.’
‘In the park?’
‘Yes. It’s a special showing of Singing in the Rain and we can knit while it’s on.’
‘That sounds… fun.’
‘It will be. Bye darling!’
Since the Croftwood Festival the previous summer, his mother’s social life had blossomed. Joining the book club and a sewing circle, which Seb’s fiancée Jess ran, had given her friends she could have fun with instead of the stiff-upper lip crowd she used to socialise with before his father died. Losing her husband at a relatively young age had isolated her. No longer part of a couple, the invitations fell away, and she had become lonely. Archie’s father had been brought up to keep up a benevolent yet arm’s length relationship between the Court and the town and it was only recently that Archie and his mother had ventured into becoming part of the community by becoming involved in the festival. Both planning and attending had been wonderful experiences for the pair of them.
Archie was hoping that Seb might be around when he went to the estate office, but he wasn’t. He looked at his watch. He’d almost certainly missed Nora this morning, and anyway, he had been uncomfortable with the idea of seeing her two days in a row in case it frightened her off. But the impending evening out was pressing down on him as if he were carrying a sack of potatoes across his shoulders so he rang Seb.
‘Seb, I wondered if you were on the estate somewhere.’
‘I’m in town. I popped into the council offices to see if I could make an appointment with the planners and now I’m having a coffee. Have you got time to come and join me?’
Archie was about to say no, then he stopped and wondered why not? A coffee was not as bad as having to go to a pub and if he was thinking of becoming friends with Nora as well, he ought to get some practice in. Although why Seb would pay for a coffee when he could have a perfectly satisfactory one in the estate office, Archie couldn’t fathom. ‘Where are you?’
Seb gave him directions to Olivers, a café he’d driven past numerous times but never been into.
‘I’m on my way,’ he said decisively and with a small thrill that he was doing something very much out of the ordinary.
Oliver’s wasn’t very busy. Archie supposed it was between the breakfast rush and elevenses.
‘Archie!’ Seb raised a hand and pointed to the two cups on the table, indicating that he’d already bought Archie a coffee.
Toby, who Archie had met a few times while they’d been organising the festival licensing, was sat at a table engrossed in something on his laptop but otherwise, Archie didn’t recognise anyone. It wasn’t a surprise but it made him feel a little sad that even though he’d lived in Croftwood his whole life, he was that much removed from the town.
‘I got you a cappuccino,’ said Seb, pushing the cup towards him.
‘Thank you.’ Archie took a sip and realised straight away that this coffee was in a different league to what could be produced from a jar.
