I cast my eyes over the room again. A north London pub with pretentions and an ironic name.The Spit and Sawdust.Thankfully, there’s not a fleck of either in sight. Micro brewed beers on tap, top shelf liquors behind a gleaming bar, and pub grub that’s a little street food yet a little gourmet.
I’ve chosen a table near the door, just in case I need to bolt, but not so near that I get cold every time the thing opens.
What happens if he doesn’t turn up?
What happens if he does?
Do I stand to greet him? Hold out my hand? Proffer my cheek for a little peck.
‘Heather, right?’
‘Um, what?’ I blink up at the man who definitely doesn’t need to work a camera angle because he’s already pretty good looking—and as tall as his bio made out.Just shy of six foot, if you’re wondering.‘Oh, Jeremy. Hello!’ I jump to my feet at the same time as he leans in for a kiss, effectively smashing the top of my skull into his nose. ‘Oh, my God, I’m so, so sorry!’ I whisper, awestruck, because only I could make this kind of lasting impression.
With a groan, he more like slumps than sits onto the chair opposite, both hands covering his nose as though the thing is gushing blood. It isn’t, by the way.
‘Fucking hell.’ Holy annunciation, posh boy. ‘I’m so pleased tonight is my last date.’
What the what-what?
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘My last date,’ he says, pulling away his hands and prodding the bridge of his nose gently. ‘No need to look so worried,’ he says when it becomes clear to his roaming fingers that all is well. ‘She wasn’t nearly as pretty as you. Good kisser, though.’ And then he winks.
Ew. Just ew. And his bio made him sound so genuinely lovely.
Likes: Dogs. Long walks in country parks. Foreign cinema. And his eighty-year-old granny.
Auntie Nelly, I’m so sorry you’re about to be killed off before the end of the first episode.
‘Would you like a drink?’ I shoot out of my chair, blurting the first thing that comes to my head.
‘This place has table service,’ he says with a smirk, like I’m such a dolt.
‘Yes, but I have to get my steps in!’ I shove my arm behind my back as I add, ‘Oh, would you look at that. I appear to have forgotten to put on my FitBit.’
I don’t have a FitBit. I have a Chinese rip-off I ordered from Amazon that my brother Dan, or Orion, depending on how much he’s annoying me, dubbed aShitBit. And it turns out, he was right. It lasted only a week.
‘A sort like you doesn’t need to keep count of her steps. But I’ll tell you what. I have a better way you can get in some of those all-important steps. My place. I’ll even let you go on top.’
Ewie-ewie-ewie. The horrible man winked at me again!
‘Drink?’ I repeat manically.
‘You’re not planning on running away, are you?’ Along with the sly question, he presses his index finger onto the back of my phone, sliding it to the opposite corner of the table.
Well, I won’t be going anywhere without my phone now, will I? But it’s not like I was planning on creeping out and leaving my coat, even if my ultimate plans are escape. When Vee calls.
‘Oh, of course not. So, drink?’
‘That’s very decent of you. I’ll have a glass of the house Pinot Noir, but watch the barmaid pour it, would you, there’s a love. We had a little altercation last time we were here.’
Huh. Maybe I’ve just found out why this place is called TheSpitand Sawdust.
Huh. Maybe I’ve just found out why this place is called TheSpitand Sawdust.
I got to the bar, anyway. Order him his drink. Try and fail to get the attention of the only female member of the bar staff who looks pretty badass. Feline eyes thanks to lashings of liner, and a jet-black bob. She looks like she could seriously kick butt, especially with that elaborate nose ring.Anyone who gets a hole poked in their nose is not to be trifled with.
After dragging out the process as long as possible, I trip back over to the table. It can’t be more than twenty minutes until Vee calls.Buck up, buttercup; you’ve worked with Haydn, king of the offensive tosspots, I tell myself.
