Page 58 of Old Girls Go Greek
‘Oh, I don’t know?—’
I interrupted his protests. ‘We agreed when we had dinner last time that the next time I would pay, so don’t argue.’
He held up his hands in submission. ‘Okay, whatever you say.’
I thought about my bank balance then. It was all very well being firm and independent, but how much would a meal in that place cost? How much was the wine? How much was the taxi?
No, I was sure it would be fine. My pension had just gone into my bank account, and if the worst came to the worst I had a credit card.
We sat in companionable silence for a while, looking out at the sea, the children playing on the rather gritty beach, four young men playing volleyball at one of the nets set up there.
I gave a deep sigh, pleased to be seeing all these things, knowing that this would not be the last time I went somewhere different and looked out on new places. It was a very liberating sensation. I wondered how Will was feeling. Had this week brought him a new sense of freedom too?
I suppose I had always thought that men like him lived their lives and dealt with changes and losses and doubts very differently from the way women did. Women were able to confide more in their closest friends, draw support from each other. They could sympathise without feeling they needed to provide a solution.
Men on the other hand didn’t seem to do that. He had friends, he already said as much, but were they the sort of people he would split a bottle of prosecco with and to whom he could unburden himself? Where did men get their support mechanism when they needed one?
I’d always assumed the male of the species had things easier than women, but now I wasn’t so sure. I suddenly felt rather sorry for him, which wasn’t an emotion I had ever felt for a man before. Certainly not for my ex-husband, who had managed to turn each success into a personal victory and every failure into someone else’s fault.
I wanted to learn so much more about Will, to discover what made him tick and perhaps more importantly, why a man like him, who had been successful, was good-looking and well-mannered, sometimes had such a look of sadness in his eyes.
‘It sounds as though you have travelled far more than I have,’ I said. ‘Where’s the best place you’ve ever been?’
He took another sip of his lemonade and pursed his lips thoughtfully.
‘Australia is great. But then so is Italy. And France for that matter. But if I think about it, and if I had to choose, I went skiing once, a few years ago with a couple who are still really good friends. They had helped me get through a difficult time and I needed to get away. It was unforgettable. We rented a glorious log cabin overlooking a wonderful view of endless hills and valleys. There was a broad wooden balcony all around the first floor and one night I stood out there, just looking out at the moon shining on the mountains. I felt at peace for the first time in ages. It had been snowing and everywhere was so crisp and clear, and there was a bright, full moon that seemed so close it almost felt as though I could reach out and touch it. Vermont,’ he said. ‘That’s my favourite place.’
Gosh. What a coincidence. How marvellous.
* * *
I encouraged him then, to talk about small, everyday things. The way he spent his leisure hours, what sort of food he enjoyed, did he support a particular football team (no, thank heavens).
His nearest neighbour was an elderly woman called Mrs Haliburton, who had apparently owned ten cats over the years, all called Fluffy. Will shared the company of the latest Fluffy, a cat who took advantage of both of them, pleading hunger and settling down comfortably on its own blanket next to Will’s wood burner on cold winter nights while its other owner called fruitlessly at her back door and rattled bags of treats to try to lure Fluffy back.
‘I like cats,’ he said, reinforcing my earlier view that men who were cat-lovers either were or became more attractive as a result. ‘I think I would like Ivan from what you tell me of him. He sounds the independent type.’
‘Irascible might be a better word,’ I said. ‘He has only sat on my lap once, and I have never shown that cat anything but kindness. Still, he does bring me gifts from time to time. Mice and a couple of shrews as a treat.’
‘I think Fluffy is too fat and lazy to catch anything, and why should she when she has two of us feeding her?’
‘What about cooking? Are you a maestro in your new kitchen?’
He laughed. ‘Hardly. And now I have a new one, I don’t know how much of it works, but occasionally when my sister comes to visit with her family, it’s nice to try. But then she will shove me out of the way and take over, as all much younger sisters do, I think.’
So, he had a much younger sister.
‘Nephews and nieces?’ I asked.
‘Twin nephews. Emlyn and Huw. They are in the middle of their A levels. What about you?’
‘I have one sister who works for the World Bank in Washington. Bridget is married to an American called Cole, and they have a son called Newt, after Sir Isaac Newton, not the amphibian, and I have one daughter. She doesn’t have any children yet, although I remain hopeful. Nicky is a librarian, but her library is in danger of being closed at the moment, and there doesn’t seem to be anything they can do about it.’
He shook his head. ‘It’s such a shame; libraries are important places for so many people. Is there nothing that can be done?’
‘They are planning a protest or a sit-in.’
‘Oh dear, you know things are bad if librarians are protesting.’
