‘So what?’
‘So… no. Sorry Bridget.’ He called over to Mary. ‘We’re going to see an old French film. Aren’t we, Mary? Mary is educating me in the art of the French film. I’m a philistine, in her eyes.’
What was this? I wanted to go to see a French film with the two of them. It sounded lovely.
‘That’s right, Red,’ Mary called and walked over to them. ‘I mentioned that I was a fan ofJean de Floretteand he’s never seen it – can you imagine! – so, it’s on and we’re going. Unless…’ She had noticed the daggers that Bridget was glaring at her. ‘But, Red, if you have other ideas, we can go anothertime… it’s not a problem.’
‘We’re going,’ he said firmly. ‘I need to do something about my general philistinism. Man cannot live by Johnny Logan alone.’
‘But he can try,’ said Mary. She scurried over to me and busied herself sorting out a huge pile of empty Tupperware, ready to be returned to their owners. Bridget moved so she and Red were hidden from our prying eyes.
Clodagh came up with Mary’stea brack, now wrapped in foil, for Red. As she was a few yards away from them, she realised that some kind of intimate discussion was going on and she did an abrupt about-turn and sidled to me, giving me a look. I nodded in return. She began picking up fluff and bits from the floor with her fingers, the two of us working in silence.
‘But…’ Bridget obviously was unused to men not falling at herfeet. ‘Would you like to do something else? Something with me, perhaps? Something that doesn’t involve strange foreign films. I’m thinking cocktails, something to eat. Hang out in town.’
‘God, I’m so sorry, Bridget,’ he said quietly. ‘But I am way too old for all that.’ I kept sweeping the floor, pretending I wasn’t listening to every word, thrilled he wasn’t falling for Bridget’s obvious charms.
‘Sounds fun, though,’ Red said politely, speaking quietly, ‘I’m sure you know loads of people who would want to go.’
Bridget was looking utterly bewildered. ‘Really?’ she said.
He nodded. ‘Really. People not old like me,’ he said gently. ‘I’m ancient…’
‘But…’
He stood there with his massive pile of cartons and boxes like a contestant on an old kids’ show, trying not to drop a thing.
‘Right,’she said slowly. ‘Okay. Let me know if you change your mind.’
‘I will…’ He glanced at me and saw me looking, widening his eyes a fraction.
‘So, I’ll be going.’ She shook her head, slightly, as though she couldn’t believe it. ‘Red,’ she said, ‘I have to ask you something.’
‘What?’
‘Are you gay?’ She was blinking at him, as though something just didn’t compute. ‘Because I can’t think of anotherreason. I mean, you disappeared last night, you don’t want to come out with me tonight. I just don’t… I just don’t understand. Normally… usually… this doesn’t happen.’
Clodagh and I, eyes wide, looked at each other. I was worried that Red would drop everything in a huge cacophony of old containers. But he laughed. ‘I’m not gay, Bridget,’ he said, lowering his voice so low, my ear drums were onthe point of bursting with the effort of trying to hear.
She hesitated for a moment. ‘Let me know if you change your mind, okay?’ And she walked out, without saying goodbye to anyone else. Life lesson, I told myself. Even Bridget has to face rejection at least once.
He nodded. ‘I will. Thank you.’ Now, he was able to put down everything he was carrying on the table by the door while Clodaghscurried over with the cake. ‘Here’s Mary’s cake, Red’ she said. ‘She says it’s yours.’
‘Thank you, Clodagh,’ he said calmly as though he hadn’t just had a really unusual conversation, flattering and awkward and… weird. ‘What are you taking?’
‘A chocolate roulade,’ she admitted. ‘I’m going home to eat the whole thing with a cup of tea and an old film on the telly.’
‘What an afternoon,’ he laughed.
‘Sometimes, Red,’ she said, ‘life demands chocolate roulade and a black and white film. I’m hoping for something with Cary Grant.’
‘Anything with Bette Davis does that for me.’ He turned to me. ‘What about you Tab,’ he said. ‘Who does it for you?’
‘Um…’ But I knew exactly what film I could watch over and over again.
‘Listen,’ said Clodagh, ‘I’m going to head off. See you all soon.’ She puton her sunglasses and squeezed me goodbye. ‘You’re worth a million Bridgets,’ she said into my ear.
‘Thanks for coming.’
