To Walter’s surprise they had quite a lot to chat about, and he found himself enjoying her company. Lunch was bitter-sweet though, because the last time he’d been out for a meal with a woman it had been with his wife, when she was alive. Not that they’d gone out for meals much: that had been reserved for special occasions.
Still, this was very nice and as they waited for dessert and coffee, he sat back with a contented sigh.
‘This is a real treat,’ Beth said. ‘I don’t eat out very often – unless you call having a cuppa in a cafe and smuggling in a packet of Fig Rolls, eating out.’
‘I don’t eat out at all,’ Walter said. ‘Except for going to Dulcie’s.’
‘What about the pub? Do you ever go to the Black Horse?’
‘Now and again, but not for a meal. I used to play darts.’ He hadn’t played for a long time. Now that he came to think about it there were lots of things he hadn’t done for a long time, and he realised how insular he had become over the years.
‘Is there much to do in Picklewick?’ Beth asked.
Walter’s mind went blank. ‘I’ve no idea.’
‘I wondered what was on at the community centre.’ She got out her phone, the tip of her tongue poking out as she scrolled, and Walter could imagine her doing the same thing in school when she was a girl, as she worked on her sums or concentrated on her spellings. The image made him smile.
‘Yoga, mother and toddler group, photography club, bingo, knit and natter… And The Black Horse has a quiz night and karaoke. Can you sing?’ she asked.
‘Er, no.’
‘Me, neither. I sound like a scalded cat. Knit?’
Walter shook his head.
‘Do you like quizzes?’
‘I don’t mind Tipping Point on TV, and I quite like The Chase.’
‘Wanna give it a go?’
‘Oh, I don’t think so. I can’t see myself being on TV, can you?’
Beth chortled. ‘Not on the telly! Down the pub.’
Walter blinked. ‘Maybe.’
Beth carried on, ‘There’s a gardening club.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Nah, if I feel the urge to get my hands dirty, I’ll ask Dulcie if I can grub about in her veggie patch.’ Beth fell silent for a moment, her eyes on the screen, then she yelled, ‘Kite flying!’ and Walter almost leapt out of his skin.
‘Where?’ His gaze shot to the window.
‘There’s a kite flying club,’ Beth explained. ‘I quite fancy flying a kite again. I haven’t done that since I was a kid. Pendine Sands in West Wales. We had a caravan for a week.’ She looked wistful.
Their desserts arrived, along with their coffee, but Beth didn’t begin to eat hers straight away; she was busily typing one-fingered into her phone.
Walter was tempted to tell her off, the way he’d heard her reprimand Maisie for playing with her phone at the table, but he held his tongue.
Then he wished he hadn’t when Beth made an announcement. ‘Righty-ho, I’ve just signed us up for Half Board on Thursday afternoon.’ And when Walter stared at her in confusion, she explained, ‘It’s an afternoon of board games. And on the following Monday we’re going to bingo.’
’I don’t like bingo.’
‘Have you ever been?’
‘No, but—’
‘Don’t knock it until you try it,’ she said, around a mouthful of apple crumble and custard. ‘If you give it a go and still don’t like it, we can try something else.’
‘What if I don’t want to?’
