Is She Really Going Out with Him?

Chapter 6

Google searches:

Journalism jobs in Bath

Signs someone might be a narcissistic sociopath

Who is the actor in Outlander?

How old is Sam Heughan?

Sam Heughan, wife

I don’t know who came up with ten as an arbitrary number for everything . How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days , 10 Things I Hate About You , 10 Years Younger —why does it always have to be ten? Six feels more than adequate. I e-mail Jonathan to suggest I start with five dates.

“I need to talk to you two about something,” I tell Jess and Ethan as we sit down for chicken fajitas at the kitchen table.

“Is it about the vase in the bathroom?” Jess asks, fiddling with her phone.

“No, why? What’s happened to the vase in the bathroom?” I ask.

“Nothing,” Jess says, her eyes darting back to her phone. She scrolls, then frowns at the screen. I look to Ethan, who shrugs.

“Phone away, please,” I say, nodding toward Jess’s hand. Dan and I agreed she could have a phone for secondary school. We thought she needed one if she was going to be walking home from the bus, but sometimes I worry she’s too young to be so constantly connected. We don’t allow her on social media, but she’s still always messaging people. Since she’s struggling to make friends at her new school, I don’t want to cut her off from her old ones.

“I wanted to talk to you both about my work,” I say, pouring myself a glass of wine. Lately my policy of not drinking alone or on weeknights has become less a policy and more a general guideline, which nobody, least of all me, adheres to. “So, as you know, I am very happy being on my own, I’m not looking to meet anyone.”

“Sure, Mum,” Jess says, shooting her eyes toward the ceiling.

“Well, I am, but work wants me to go on some dates for my column. I was thinking, rather than let the internet choose people, it might be fun if you two came up with a few ideas.”

“What?” Jess frowns. “Why?”

Just as Ethan cries, “Great idea!”

“It would be like a science experiment. It could be fun.” There is no part of me that thinks this could be fun. I imagine a seminar on the history of tax codes would be more entertaining. “It’s just an idea. Online dating has been written about so much already, I was trying to think of something new.” As I sit down, Katniss jumps up and curls into my lap and I start stroking her head with my free hand.

“You can go out with Tilly’s dad!” Ethan says, gesticulating wildly.

“Yes, you have mentioned Tilly’s dad. Though we might have to widen the net beyond your school friends’ divorced parents.”

“What would the rules be?” Jess asks.

“I guess you could take it in turns to pick someone. It would need to be someone who’s single, who lives locally, someone I could feasibly ask out.”

“And we get to pick where you go,” Ethan suggests, kneeling up on his chair.

“Um…”

“Yes, otherwise you’ll just go for a drink at a pub and it will be mega boring,” Jess says.

“Fine, you pick where we go, within reason. I’m not going on a date to Rome or Legoland.”

“Yes! Legoland!” Ethan cries. I should not have mentioned Legoland. The children look at each other, silently conferring.

“Okay, we’ll do it,” says Jess, and Ethan nods eagerly.

“But I don’t want you feeling responsible if people say no, or if they don’t amount to anything. They wouldn’t be real dates, it would just be for the column. You know I’m very—”

“Happy on your own,” Jess says, finishing my sentence. “Yes, you’ve said that like fifty thousand times.”

As I’m clearing the plates, Ethan tips a small bag of plastic dragons onto the table in front of Jess. “Dragon school?” he asks hopefully. Jess used to spend hours creating stories for Ethan with his toys. She does it less now, but if he catches her in the right mood, she might just oblige. He’s in luck tonight. She picks up a red dragon and taps it on the table.

“This one’s a Stitch Dragon and a Fire Walker, she has the power to transform.”

Ethan is soon caught up in Jess’s story, and I watch them affectionately from across the room. Like any siblings, they sometimes squabble, but they can also be so kind to each other that it makes my heart swell.

The moment is interrupted by a sharp knock on the door, which is strange. No one knocks on your door after eight o’clock, except maybe knife-wielding maniacs. Cautiously, I check the video doorbell and see that it’s Noah from next door. Great. I might prefer a knife-wielding maniac; at least then I could call the police. Noah is a more benign menace.

“Hi, Noah,” I say as I open the door.

“You trimmed my hedge,” he says, pointing a fierce finger at me.

“I trimmed my side of the hedge,” I say calmly. “It was getting out of control.”

Noah and I are engaged in an ongoing dispute about the height and bushiness of our shared garden hedge. I want it trimmed to a normal height, so it doesn’t block out all the light in my garden, while he wants it wild and untamed, towering over us like the Wall in Game of Thrones . He’s got a thing for birdwatching and thinks he’s “creating a habitat.” Last week, knowing he was away, I took it upon myself to trim a few inches from the top. Just enough to keep the sun on our patio in the evenings. I didn’t think he would notice.

“It is my hedge, you can’t trim the top, only the bit that overhangs your side,” he says, mouth tight, dark eyes swirling with rage. Noah is a reclusive widower in his early forties. I suppose he’s attractive, if you can ignore the Crocs worn with socks, the grubby grandpa shirts, and the unbrushed hair. Lottie is convinced he’s just a wounded pup, in need of rehoming, but I see him as one of life’s petty aggravations that needs to be endured, like noisy building work or getting your IUD replaced. Ironically, it was Dan who started the hedge dispute with Noah, but in the spoils of war, Dan got the car and most of our savings, and I got the house and the ongoing feud over the hedge. Lucky me.

“Noah, I don’t get any sun in my garden after five o’clock because of that ridiculously tall hedge, and I am not usually home until after five, so you are condemning me to live in perpetual darkness.”

“You can’t cut it in the spring, birds are nesting in it. You probably scared them all away, hacking away like that.”

“I didn’t hack away. It was a small trim, perfectly within—”

“Touch it again, and I will escalate this to the council,” Noah says, his index finger waggling wildly now. Then he turns to stomp down my steps, shoulders hunched around his ears.

Back in the kitchen, Jess and Ethan eye me warily.

“It’s fine. It was only Noah,” I explain with a dismissive wave.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have cut it, Mum,” says Jess. “He really loves that hedge.”

“And I love sunlight and vitamin D. Whose side are you on?”

As I load the dishwasher with enough plate clanking to convey my irritation at Jess’s lack of loyalty, my phone pings with a message.

Neil Bradshaw

Hi Anna, Neil Bradshaw here. I believe Tilly and Ethan have been talking and they think we should hang out. Do you want to do a playdate one weekend? Take the kids to the park or something? I know what solo parenting can be like, so strength in numbers C etc. Neil.

A playdate? He’s asked me out on a playdate .

“Who’s that from?” Jess asks, noticing me pause to read the message again.

“Tilly Bradshaw’s dad, he’s suggesting a playdate.” I narrow my eyes at Ethan. “What exactly did you say to Tilly?”

“I said you were looking for men to make friends,” Ethan says, looking thrilled to see his words cause some effect.

Jess reaches for my phone, and I let her read the message.

“He’s just making it sound like a playdate in case you say no. Reply, ‘Cool, let’s hang out, but not with the kids.’?”

“I’m not going to say that. I might have to see this guy at the school gate.”

“He loves fishing!” Ethan cries. “Say you want to go fishing.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I say, laughing, but then I look up and see they both look serious.

“You asked for our help,” Jess says, folding her arms across her chest.

“Fine,” I say with a sigh as I compose a response to Neil.

Anna Appleby

Sounds good. Keen to hang out sans kids, if you are? Ethan says you like fishing. Never been, but I’m always up for trying something new.

Which must be the lamest message I’ve ever sent in my entire life.

My phone dings immediately.

Neil Bradshaw

It’s a date! Don’t have the kids on Sunday. Let me know where you live. I’ll pick you up and we’ll head to the river.

Looks like I’m going fishing.