Secrets (24 page)

Tess looked at the buggy as if it was as cumbersome and inappropriate as a pair of high heels. ‘I can't really,’ she said.

Seb didn't look at the buggy, or at Tess's feet. He just looked at her face and gave a disappointed smile. ‘Another time, then.’

Tess nodded. ‘Sure.’

He paused, as if he was about to sneeze. ‘Like – Friday night?’

‘Night?’

‘A date, Tess. Not a walk. I'm saying let's go out on a proper date, on Friday night – babysitting depending, of course. What do you say?’

Tess found she didn't feel like backing away behind her customary reticence. She felt like staying exactly where she was, with the sunlight squinting her face into a grin, buying a little time to mull the offer. And when she accepted she realized the first person she'd be telling – and soon – was not Tamsin for advice, but Lisa for a babysitting favour.

‘Phone me if there's a problem,’ Seb said, ‘otherwise, I'll see you right –
here
!’ And he stamped his foot as if marking the spot.

‘OK,’ Tess laughed, ‘unless you hear from me, I'll be right –
here
.’ And she nudged his shoe out of the way so she could tap hers on the precise place on the pavement.

‘Cool.’ He smiled and he lingered and then he executed a strange bounce on the spot, which tipped his body forward and enabled him to kiss Tess lightly on the lips, regain his composure and saunter off before she could quite register just what had happened. A little way off, he cast a glance over his shoulder to find Tess standing stock-still. He turned, walking backwards for a couple of steps. Then he pointed to the auspicious paving stone with a broad grin before turning again and strolling away.

Tess thought, he's just kissed me. Kissed me for a second time. With more intent than the first time though it was quicker and more chaste. She thought, I've been asked on a proper date. She thought, Seb's fun and good-looking and he's just kissed me and asked me out. And she thought, I must phone Lisa straight away. She walked briskly back up to the house, phoned Lisa who sounded happy to supply the favour and Tess found that, with not much arm-twisting, she was telling Lisa that yes, it was a
date
and that the guy seems really nice. Yes, good-looking too – in that windswept surfer-boy kind of way. From Australia. Our sort of age. Perhaps younger, actually. No, not a toyboy – we might be mums but surely we are not old enough for toyboys, are we?

Unable to sleep, it was only when Tess went down to the kitchen for a glass of water and caught sight of Seb's number on top of Joe's, that she realized she hadn't thought of Joe since Seb appeared at the window of Virgo's. A good eight hours of respite, she calculated. Tamsin would probably say this was no bad thing.

Wondering what to wear wasn't a problem – finding the time to change at all was. Tess prioritized Em – writing a list of likes and dislikes, a timetable of what Lisa could expect and when, and adding Seb's mobile number on every page. The likelihood was that Em wouldn't stir, but as Tess would be uncontactable unless Seb's mobile was in signal, she wanted to cover all options. Apart from her work days in London, she'd actually never left Em before, not in nineteen months, certainly not for her own leisure. She had not been out in the evening, let alone on a date, in all that time. During the afternoon, she started to feel that the whole thing was a little self-indulgent. By early evening, though, she couldn't ignore a frisson of anticipation.

Lisa arrived. Em was asleep. Wolf was fed and had been out for his ablutions and was now prostrate at the foot of the stairs. Lisa marvelled at the expanse of hallway before narrowing her gaze to focus on Tess, looking her up and down.

‘What are you wearing?’

Tess looked at her clothes. She was wearing what she always wore.

‘Is that what you are wearing
tonight
?’

Tess paused. ‘I'm not sure.’

‘Well, off you go and get sure – Mary Poppins is here.’

‘Oh, about that – here's a list.’

Lisa flipped through the pages, which she then rolled up and used as a truncheon against Tess's arm. ‘A list? It's an encyclopaedia! Have you forgotten my son is the same age as your daughter?’

‘I know – I know, it's just I haven't—’ ‘I know – you said. I'm teasing. It's fine.’ And Lisa gave Tess's arm a little stroke. ‘So show me around, show me everything. It's like Buckingham Bleeding Palace compared to my place. Oh fuck – look at that dog.’

‘He's harmless.’

‘He's huge. He looks so—’

‘Shh! You'll hurt his feelings.’

They stared at the great lumbering bulk of Wolf, twitching in his sleep, the pads of his paws looking like dirty pebbles, his coat appearing to have been stolen from a hobo, his oversized tongue looking synthetically pink amidst all the wiry grey and matted brown. ‘It won't suddenly turn on me when you've left, will it?’

‘He's a
he
. And no, he won't. He's soppy and gorgeous.’

They had to mountaineer over him for Tess to give Lisa the guided tour.

‘My place – including the garden – would fit into the entrance hall. I can see why you'll not be leaving anytime soon. What's he like – the chap who owns it?’

Tess tried to counteract the pause with a light tone of voice. ‘Oh, he's fine – not here much.’ She ignored Lisa, looking at her askance. Lisa was starting to remind Tess of Tamsin, which both amused and unnerved her.

‘This your room then?’

‘Come on in,’ said Tess, ‘help me find something to wear.’

After assessing all the clothes Tess owned, Lisa looked at her. ‘You're in serious need of a shopping trip, pet.’

‘I need to win the lottery first,’ Tess said.

‘So, it's jeans or that denim skirt with the stain?’

‘Yes – and that polo neck or any of those T-shirts. It's what they call a capsule wardrobe.’

‘It's what I'd call my biggest nightmare.’

Lisa looked at the clothes thoughtfully. Then she looked at Tess. She thought of her own husband, happy to babysit while she nipped to Yarm to shop. She thought of their cosy but smart two-up, two-down in which he was always tinkering – replacing the plastic sockets with smart chrome, building a breakfast bar, putting in low-voltage lighting, glossing all the sills, skirting and doors. Their home, their castle. A lucky couple – completed eighteen months ago with the arrival of much-wanted baby Sam. She thought of her husband now, babysitting so she could help out her new friend. Happy enough with his takeaway pizza and a couple of tinnies and some crap on telly he wouldn't dream of foisting on her. Bless him.

‘What's he like, then – tell me again?’

‘As I said, he's – he's not here much.’ She paused to dwell on a mental image of Joe, lovely, painful. ‘He's in his forties. He's funny and moody and you could say handsome. He builds bridges. He took me to the Transporter and told me about the Halfpenny Bridge.’

Lisa didn't take her eyes off Tess.

‘I wasn't talking about His Nibs – I was talking about Seb.’

Tess gave Lisa an exaggerated silly-me look.

‘Oh,
Seb
– like I said, he's – nice. Charming. Chatty. Sporty.’

‘And you've had one snog and one quick kiss-with-subtitles?’

Tess laughed at this. ‘On paper – yes.’

‘What does that mean!’

‘It means both times I sort of suddenly found myself in the process of
being
kissed.’

‘Did you kiss back?’

‘The second time was so fast.’

‘The first time then?’

Tess remembered her tongue taking over instinctively because her mind was too slow to react. She nodded.

‘Right then, lady,’ Lisa said and before Tess could express any opinion, Lisa had taken off her own skirt (it was cute: vivid blue, corduroy, A-line, just above the knee) and stood waiting in her tights, arms crossed, while Tess put it on.

‘Suits you!’

‘Do you think so?’ Tess moved this way and that in front of the mirror, slightly in awe of what she saw.

‘Look at yourself, Tess – look at the pins on you! It's a crime to hide them. Do something with your hair, though. Get your slap on. You can take my lippy with you – it's only from Boots but it's called Honeytrap and with you in that skirt, it'll do what it says on the packet.’

Borrowing some shapeless old jogging pants off Tess, Lisa went downstairs. Tess sat in front of the mirror and said, hair, what am I going to do with you?

Mascara helped. And a carefully mussed-up ponytail that took ages to perfect completed the look. She sat there a while longer than she needed. She felt displaced all of a sudden – as if dates were hugely adventurous even risky pursuits undertaken by other more qualified people. She thought of Em. And tried not to. She thought of Wolf and tried not to. She didn't let herself think of Joe. She said out loud that she would borrow Lisa's sure-fire lipstick, if the offer still stood. She looked at herself in the mirror and said, you look stupid, you don't look like you. But then she heard Lisa hiss from downstairs that Tess was late, to get a move on or risk being stood up.

She was late but he didn't stand her up. He was waiting for her at the specific paving stone and he took her to the pub at the bottom of Saltburn Bank. It used to be a dive, Lisa had told her. Minging, she said. But now it was the place to go, all fancy decked verandas speckled with little bright blue halogen lights, woodwork painted in New England colours. Lisa had told her, you don't go to the bog there any more – they've
restrooms
now with polished granite and all. It had a commanding position too, with 360-degree views and an interrupted vista out to sea, hence its new name, the Vista Mar. Tess had never seen it by night. Swish for Saltburn. Then she thought, she hadn't really seen Saltburn by night either – only when passing through by car on the way to the Transporter Bridge.

Stop it! This night has nothing to do with Joe.

‘Loving your hair,’ Seb said. ‘What are you drinking?’

‘Wine, I think.’

Eye contact, Tess, eye contact.

They stayed until last orders. Somehow, she managed to elicit plenty of details about Seb's life without revealing too many of her own. Tess's grandmother always said she was a good listener, for Tess though it usefully precluded too much personal exposure on her part. Her grandmother would have deemed him easy on the eye and Tess would have agreed with her on that one. He was easy to listen to as well, especially on account of his accent. She still had no desire to surf by the end of the evening but his adventures on the waves were entertaining in their own right, as were his tales of Australia and his relatives’ acres in Cornwall. Two ex-girlfriends of any note, one or two rebound flings, a couple of good-time girls this last year. Nothing serious. How about you, Tess?

‘Oh, my family live abroad.’

‘Do you visit?’

‘We're not close, really.’

‘And work?’

‘I'm house-sitting at the moment.’

‘Taking a breather?’

‘I suppose so. Though I find it very satisfying. But I needed a change of scene.’

‘Wise. And men? If you don't mind me asking?’

‘You are nosy, aren't you? Nothing very juicy for you – no one special, really. The teenage sweetheart who was eventually more like a brother. The college boyfriend who I graduated on from once I'd graduated. One one-night stand which was one too many. Em's father, of course – but I wouldn't know how to begin to describe him.’