Independent Jenny (21 page)

Chapter Forty-Eight

“I think you should go on a few dates,” said Andrew as I opened our second bottle of red wine. He and Shane had come round for a Chinese take away and we were now discussing my next step, now that I was established in my flat as an independent woman. Or spinster. At least I didn’t have any cats yet. Although crazy dog-lady sounded even worse.

“I don’t know about that,” I told him. “I’m healing.”

“No, you’re not, you’re wallowing.”

He turned to Shane who was stroking his beard and thinking.

“Yeah, he’s right,” he said, nodding his head.

“You don’t have to go out and find your next husband, but why not just have a bit of fun? Realise there are other nice men out there. Live the single life.”

“Ross wants to take me on a date,” I told them.

“Ross can wait. It’s about time you met some other men. See what’s out there. If you don’t like what’s out there, you can know for sure he’s worth another shot,” Andrew said, nudging Shane, who nodded his agreement.

“I guess I’ve never really dated before. It might be fun.”

Or hideously embarrassing and soul-destroying, enough to obliterate the little bit of self-esteem I had. But after several glasses of wine, lots of things seem fun. So, by the time we’d moved to our fourth bottle, giddy as my Aunt Nora after several sherries at Christmas, we got out my laptop, created an online dating profile and sat back to wait for the offers to flood in.

A week later, I was getting ready for my first date. So far, I’d exchanged a few texts with Howard, who looked quite like Matthew McConaughey in his online dating profile. I thought about Hayley while putting my make-up on and wished I could call her for advice about what to wear. She’d probably come over, pull everything out of my wardrobe, then go home and fetch me one of her designer dresses. Which would be a little too tight for me, but make me feel special, sexy, confident … Seeing as she wasn’t even returning my text messages and Facebook pokes, let alone be available for fashion advice, I was on my own.

I pulled out a blue dress I’d bought for Hayley’s parent’s wedding anniversary a few years back. It had a low front and I remember when we were shopping she’d insisted I buy a push-up bra at the same time to plunge my cleavage. I’d not worn it since. I wondered if it still fit; there was only one way to find out. I found the bra and pulled the dress on. To my utter surprise, it was a bit loose. When I thought about it, despite the free muffins and cookies at Shane’s, I hadn’t been eating as many big portions since I stopped living with Ross, a.k.a. the human dustbin. Plus, I’d been walking more than ever before.

More than satisfied with my outfit, I put on a little make-up, splashed myself with my favourite perfume, found some shoes I might just about manage to walk in, fluffed up my hair and went out to my car. I didn’t want to get drunk on a first date, so driving would be a good excuse. I also didn’t want to fork out for a taxi unless I was pretty sure the guy was worth it. I found a parking spot and walked down to the Italian restaurant we’d agreed to meet at. A man was standing outside and I realised he’d put the best photo of him ever taken on the dating site. But, to be fair, who wouldn’t? He did have a slight air of Matthew McConaughey about him, with the same shaggy curly hair, he was just a much less cute version with a Cornish accent. Still, never one to judge on appearance only, I was prepared to get to know him.

“Jenny?” he asked as I approached him.

“Yes, you must be Howard?”

“Indeed I am! You look lovely,” he said, looking at my dress and quickly back to my eyes. At least he was conscious of not staring at my chest, unlike the perv I’d just walked past on my way here.

“Thank you,” I said, glad he thought so and hoping I wasn’t as different to my photo as he was.

We went inside and sat at our table. An awkward silence descended while we browsed the menu. I opted for soup and salad, figuring it’d keep me fitting in this dress for the next date I’d go on; I already couldn’t see this one progressing to a second date.

I watched Howard telling the waiter what he wanted and decided I was being unfair. I had to give the guy a chance.

“So, Jenny. You’re a photographer?”

“Yes. Weddings mostly. A bit of portrait photography.”

“And what do you like to do in your spare time?”

“Walking. I love to walk, I’ve got a dog.”

“I had a dog once.”

“Oh yes?”

“Yes. He died.”

“Oh, that’s really sad.”

I fiddled with my napkin. This was harder work than I’d expected.

“And what about you? What do you like to do in your spare time? Any hobbies?”

He flashed me a crooked smile. His teeth were less white than Matthew’s too, but I reminded myself that Matthew definitely wouldn’t be interested in me, plunge bra or no, whereas Howard appeared to be.

“I play ice hockey,” he told me, followed by an animated explanation of how he spent most weekends travelling around the country competing; about his skates, his team mates, the ice, the pucks, the competition, the venues, the hotels.

“Are you any good?” I asked, when I eventually got a chance to speak. The waiter bought our starters and I dug right in.

“I’m alright. Some of my friends are brilliant. I know a few guys who have played for Britain.”

“Wow, impressive.”

I wasn’t being sarcastic, either. It was nice to meet a man who had such a passion for something other than Playstation games (Ross) or staying in watching TV (Aiden), and I quite enjoyed listening to him talking about how he had learned to skate as a kid, and so on.

Okay, I admit, by dessert it was getting a tad boring. But, he was quite charming and he did manage to ask me a few questions about Wentworth while I tucked into my honeycomb cheesecake. Which was the highlight of my evening; divine goodness on a plate.

“You should come and watch me tomorrow,” he said as the bill was put on the table. “I’ll get this.”

“Oh, thanks so much,” I said, relieved and pushing my feminist impulse to insist we go halves out of the window. I was on a tight budget these days.

“Watch you do what tomorrow?”

“Ice hockey of course. In Bristol. Bring a few friends.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, they never sell that many tickets, so you’ll be able to get them on the door.”

It could be fun and I was pretty sure I could drag Shane and Andrew along.

“Write down the details for me.”

I passed him a pen and a slip of paper from my bag and he scribbled what I needed to know.

“So you’ll come?”

“Maybe.”

“Great. Well, tonight has been fun.”

We got up to go and he helped me put on my coat.

“It has,” I said, thinking I’d give him at least two dates before I decided he wasn’t for me. I hadn’t exactly fallen in love with Will at first sight, had I? And then look what happened: I now thought about him night and day. So I should give Howard a chance. And myself a chance to get Will out of my head.

“You want to get a drink? Even just a coffee?”

“I’m shattered actually, do you mind if we don’t?”

He looked disappointed. “Of course.”

“I really enjoyed myself though,” I said, trying to reassure him. “I’d definitely like to go out again.”

“Great!” He smiled and we said our goodbyes on the street.

I walked back to my car, drove home, took my make-up off while thinking about ice hockey, and got into bed. The evening hadn’t been a total disaster; despite the fact that Howard preferred to talk about ice hockey than anything else. I’d made the first step towards moving my love life on, and that had to be a good thing.

That night, once again, I dreamt that Will and I were sitting together at Elgol, watching the clouds pass over the Cuillins, not tense or nervous but just being ourselves. I woke up feeling sad.

After breakfast that morning, I called Shane. He and Andrew were up for the ice hockey and Shane offered to drive us all there.

Chapter Forty-Nine

It was my first Saturday without a wedding for a few weeks and I pottered around the house cleaning, and then took Wentworth for a long walk. On our way back home, I saw Aiden walking down the other side of the street and wondered for a moment if I should look down, pretend I hadn’t noticed him, or cross over and say hi. I was just about to opt for the latter when he caught my eye, smiled and came over to my side.

“Hey Jenny.” He looked about as awkward as I felt.

“Hi Aiden, how are you?”

“I’m fine. You?”

“Fine.”

We smiled at each other. Wentworth was shaking his bum from side to side and nudging Aiden’s arm. He bent down and made a fuss of him.

“You’re such a good boy,” he told him, rubbing his ears. He looked up at me.

“I heard about your flat. It sounds nice.”

“Yeah, it’s lovely.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, I’d better get on,” he said, standing up.

“Yes, me too.”

He nodded and smiled and I started to walk.

“Jenny?”

I turned around to face him. He was such a lovely, kind person, and the hurt on his face made me feel so guilty.

“We’ve broken the ice now, so don’t be a stranger, yeah?”

I smiled. “Yeah.”

He nodded and turned away. I walked home feeling sad again, Wentworth’s cheerful expression being the only thing to lift my spirits.

Now, what does one wear to an ice hockey match? I went through my wardrobe, deciding to go for comfy casual, seeing as I wouldn’t spend much time with Howard up close, if at all. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a fleece I’d bought for the Skye holiday. A few flicks of mascara and I was good to go.

“You’re going to be freezing,” Andrew said as I climbed into the back of Shane’s car outside my house.

“Really?” I asked. “It’s so mild out.”

“Didn’t the word ‘ice’ give you a clue?”

“Ah, well.” I shrugged. “Drive on.”

An hour later, I was wondering what the hell I’d been thinking. Howard hadn’t exaggerated when he said they didn’t sell that many tickets; we had plenty of choice about where to sit, and Andrew was correct about how cold I might be. It was freezing. Shane put his arm around me and rubbed my shoulders but I couldn’t help but shiver.

“Want my gloves?” he offered.

“No, I was stupid enough to come without mine, you keep them.”

“Here, you have them,” he said, taking them off.

“You two are so like a married couple,” Andrew said, rolling his eyes. “I can see why it bothered Ross.”

Shane nudged him hard in the ribs and while I giggled. I knew Andrew was joking.

I got out my phone and texted Howard.

We are here. Good luck! x

He replied straight away.

Great! Wait behind after x

I smiled and put my phone away. And then the drama started.

My expectation of the evening was that two teams would come out, they’d skate around, knock the puck about, score some goals, and it’d look something like it did on the Winter Olympics, of which I’d watched plenty, thanks to one of my mum’s ex-husbands, Bill, a Canadian who had us all glued to the TV screen during the 1994 games.

This was nothing like that. For a start, I don’t remember the quite so dramatic music and disco lights.

“Why do I feel like we’re at a wrestling event instead of ice hockey?” I whispered to Shane.

“What?” he yelled back, unable to hear me over the music which surely only belonged in an epic disaster movie right at the point the hero was about to save the day.

“It doesn’t matter,” I yelled back, unable to repeat myself when the guy sitting on the other side of me was obviously a serious fan. He had already started whooping and yelling.

To my enormous relief, the coloured lights stopped rather abruptly and out came the teams. I couldn’t tell which one was Howard with his helmet on.

“What’s his last name?” Andrew asked across Shane.

“Morris,” I told them.

We scanned the player’s shirts until Shane pointed him out.

The game began and to start with, I was quite excited as Howard’s team seemed to be playing quite well and nearly scored a few goals.

Then a fight began. I wasn’t sure how it started but someone barged someone else and then Howard threw his gloves and helmet on the floor, as did a player from the other team and they started fighting each other, really rather brutally, in my expert feminine opinion.

I felt myself get anxious and looked to the referee to break it up, but to my dismay he just let them get on with it, and then the music and the coloured lights started up again. What?

The guy next to me jumped up, yelling: “Yeah! Go on Morris, kill him!”

What?

I looked at Shane and Andrew in horror but they were just laughing.

And then, just like that, Howard and the other guy were escorted to a box beside the rink.

“They have to have time-out, then they can come back in,” Andrew shouted across Shane when I gave him a confused look.

I sat quietly after that, watching the part-sport, part-fighting and was relieved when there was a break.

“It’s fun huh?” Andrew smiled at me.

“I didn’t expect all the fighting,” I admitted. “I find it a bit … un-sportsman like. How come it’s allowed?”

“It’s just part of it,” he told me. “Sometimes it’s even planned in advance. For entertainment.”

Huh, so it really was like wrestling after all.

“I think I just lost respect for the whole thing,” I said back, careful to ensure the huge ice hockey fan next to me didn’t hear. “I don’t like fighting.”

Andrew shrugged. “It’s just the way it works.”

“I think it’s quite good fun,” Shane said, getting up. “Drinks?”

“A coffee would be nice,” Andrew said.

“Make that two,” I told him.

“It doesn’t work like that at the Winter Olympics,” I declared. “Or at least, not that I remember.”

Andrew shrugged. “Different rules.”

A text came in.

Enjoying it?! Xx

Well, no actually.

Yeah, it’s great x

I sat through the next twenty minutes, feeling a bit lifeless. The fighting was annoying, but even the actual ice hockey between the combat bored me. Every time another fight started I felt uncomfortable, and I was so cold I couldn’t feel my toes. I couldn’t be doing with this every week, or every other week, or however often he said he played, I couldn’t remember now.

I told the guys I was going to pee during the next break. After leaving the ladies, I bought a hot chocolate and found a seat in the cafe area. There were rows of yellow plastic chairs and a handful of hockey fans wandering about. One of them had ‘Morris’ on the back of her jersey and I wondered if she fancied him. She’d probably think I was lucky, getting to date him. Maybe I should give her his number. The people started to drift back to their seats but I continued to sit where I was, staring into my murky brown water and wondering if this dating game was really for me.

The game started up again and I didn’t get up. I stared down at the table in front of me and wondered how long it’d be until we could leave.

“You okay?” Shane’s voice made me jump.

“Yeah, sorry,” I said, smiling. He sat down opposite me.

“It’s not what you thought?”

“No. It’s not. I hate it.”

“It’s not for everyone. Andrew loves it. I’m not bothered really.”

“You can go watch it with him.”

“It’s all right. How are you, really? You seem kind of sad.”

“I don’t know Shane. I just didn’t expect to find myself here.”

“Watching ice hockey?”

“No, almost thirty and almost divorced.”

“I know.”

“And it’s all very well, saying I should date and have fun, but I don’t want to. I want to be married again. I want to feel safe and loved and settled.”

“Well, have that then.”

“What?”

“Take Ross back.”

“You really think I could trust him again?”

“I don’t know. But marriages do recover from this sort of thing. Maybe he would go to counselling.”

“He has been, actually. And he said we could go together.”

Was I really considering this?

“I’m just saying, you loved Ross, he loved you, you were happy at one point. You both let things slip. Maybe you could start again. Maybe it’s something to think about.”

“I thought you didn’t like him much.”

“I’m not the one who’d have to live with him.”

“It’s just … since I went to Skye … I can’t stop thinking about Will. We had something, Shane. Something real and amazing.”

“It was a holiday romance, things always seem better on holiday.”

“I know. But I think I love him.”

Shane raised his eyebrows then started rubbing his beard.

“And he’s married, right?”

“Yes,” I sighed.

“You’ll get over him. Just relax, keep your spirits up, and you’ll meet someone else, just as amazing as Will. Or even better. Or even figure things out with Ross.”

“Thanks, Shane.” I reached out and squeezed his hand and he gave me a warm smile.

A loud roar came from the crowd.

“Another fight?”

“Probably.”

I rolled my eyes.

“You wanna go as soon as it’s over?”

“Yes please.”

“I’ll go wait with Andrew and we’ll see you by the car.”

He handed me his keys.

“Thanks Shane.”

“It’s going to work out fine, you know that, right? You’ll be happy again.”

I smiled and choked back a tear.

“Thank you. I’m not unhappy … I like my flat … I’m just lonely I guess.”

“I know.”

He walked off to find his boyfriend and I grabbed my stuff and headed out to his car. I realised I’d better tell Howard I’d left, so once strapped in on the back seat, I texted him to say I had a headache and therefore gone home. He never replied and I didn’t hear from him again.