It was good for him to experience the flipside of the coin. He was spoilt where he lived in a lot of ways.
‘Anyway, who are we meeting?’ He changed the subject.
The pub was filling up. It was almost six o’clock, and the offices were emptying for the weekend. Young professionals loitered at the bar, ready to let their hair down after a busy week at work.
‘Clara, who you met at the hen, of course. Ruth who I live with, and Katie, one of my best friends from college.’
‘Great.’ A sarcasm echoed in his tone. ‘I’m sure they’re going to make mincemeat out of me after your resignation last week.’
‘They just want to see what all the fuss is about. They couldn’t let me swan off with a stranger without giving you a bit of grilling.’ I was excited at the prospect of my friends getting to know the man that had completely and utterly stolen my heart, in a manner that none of us ever dreamt possible, least of all me.
‘It’ll be fun.’ I took a mouthful of prosecco before adding, ‘wait until my mother gets hold of you tomorrow.’
I thought I saw him swallow hard, but I was distracted by the noisy arrival of the girls.
‘Hello,’ Clara said, hugging John with a giggle, ‘I can honestly say I didn’t expect to see you again, but stranger things have happened.’
‘Not to me they haven’t.’ He took the piss out of himself in his usual manner. ‘I dread the day she gets those eyes tested.’ There was a couple of seconds’ delay as the girls processed his accent and translated into something comprehendible, before they dissolved into pealing laughter.
‘I’m Katie,’ she said, kissing my boyfriend on the cheek.
‘Nice to meet you,’ he said warmly.
‘Watch this one,’ I warned him, mocking my college friend. ‘Morals of an ally-cat.’ I winked at her and we cracked up at our own ‘in’ joke.
‘Those days are long gone,’ she assured us, ‘I’ll have you know I’m the sensible one out of these mad bitches these days. Worse luck.’ John laughed along with us. He was swiftly receiving an accurate picture.
‘I’m Ruth,’ she extended her hand in a formal, accountant-like manner. She was the last one to join our friendship group and subsequently a little bit more reserved. John shook her hand politely, then generously went to the bar to buy the girls a drink, and give us a thirty second window to talk about him.
‘Swit swoo,’ Katie said, approvingly.
‘Best-looking ginger I’ve ever seen,’ said Ruth.
‘That accent, love. It’s enough on its own,’ Clara said.
‘Shh girls he’s coming back. Behave please. I’m begging you!’ I urged.
‘Where is Rachel? Is she not coming down for the weekend?’ Ruth asked, scanning the pub in dismay.
‘Sadly not,’ I told her, ‘she’s recovering from her surgery.’
‘Oh my goodness, is she okay?’ Ruth hadn’t been at Rhinefield House.
‘Oh, she’s perfectly fine. Delighted with herself, actually. She feels like a new woman. Literally,’ I said, pretending to honk Ruth’s bust as her eyebrows shot up in realisation. She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the shock.
‘She did not?’ Ruth was flabbergasted.
‘She certainly did. We have the pictures to prove it.’ Katie pulled out her iPhone and began to scroll past three hundred pictures of her kids to find a photo of Rachel’s new boobs.
John put his hands to his head. ‘Oh Lord,’ he said, rolling his eyes to the sky. ‘I clearly didn’t think his weekend through.’ He was only feigning embarrassment, being in his element surrounded entirely by women. He grabbed my hand under the table and squeezed it tightly as he listened to the girls debating the logistics of Rachel’s boob job. Katie was concerned if she would be able to breast feed one day, Clara wondered if she’d ever be able to sleep lying down again. I listened quietly for once, enjoying the banter, delighted to have John here with me.
Three glasses of prosecco later, we decided it would be a great idea to bring John to the tapas restaurant. Thankfully, he had drank as much as us, if not more, and he’d need it to put up with the lot of us.
Katie had given him a detailed account of how she had only marginally avoided a caesarean section, but with hindsight she would have taken it had she realised what the episiotomy involved. She didn’t hold back on the details, explaining to him how she shuddered every time she heard the word ‘vacuum’ ever since, even if it was in a completely different context from the cleaners in her work.
Ruth grilled him about his work and business. She could be a little blunt sometimes, unintentionally of course, but everythingin her mathematically logistic mind was either black or white. In her mind, everything was a formula.
She liked to calculate how everything added up in the end.
