Istiffen,bracingmyselffor a sanctimonious lecture. I tilt my chin, hug my ill-gotten stash tightly to me and glare at him.
He lifts an eyebrow.
Here it comes. Any second now. He’s taking it all in. His eyes are darting back and forth over the heavily laden shelves before coming to rest sharply on mine. The corners of his eyes crinkle as he squints disappointedly, but I simply do not care. I straighten to my full height of not much above the national average.
He shakes his head slowly.
‘That won’t be anywhere near enough,’ he says, swiftly launching at the dusty bottles of wine on the shelves and scooping up armfuls of fatty produce. ‘Here, take this. And these. I’ll grab those and… aha, they will do nicely thank you very much. How are you with gluten?’
And before I know it, we are scampering through the woods with bottles of wine, a box of multi-flavoured crisps, a wedge of Manchego cheese, cartons of olives swimming in herby oil and two freshly baked baguettes between us. We are giggling hysterically and shushing each other for fear of getting caught.
We find a small clearing hidden behind the trees, have the same thought and whip off our baggy tunics to make a picnic blanket. We plonk ourselves down. Fortunately, I’d had the foresight to wear a very flimsy little vest top with no bra underneath, but Oliver apparently didn’t. I rummage around the food pile to stop my eyes from wandering over to his naked six-pack.
I hope this isn’t going to be awkward. Him giving off catalogue-model vibes and me, in an ironic twist of fate, giving off pervert-stalker vibes.
‘Christ, I need this,’ says Oliver, tearing off some bread and a lump of cheese and handing them to me. Surprisingly, once we’ve had a few bites to eat we relax easily into each other’s company.
‘What sort of utter horseshit are they feeding us?’ I ask. ‘This beats those dry sticks that’s for sure.’
‘I know,’ agrees Oliver. ‘And those two warlocks? What’s their game?’
‘I’ll be leaving worse off than when I arrived! I’ve never been so frigging stressed. Did you have to do any Tear Seeking? I mean, what the actual fuck is going on? I think I picked the wrong package.’
‘Hmmm,’ Oliver says, cramming more cheese and half a baguette into his mouth. ‘I got forced to come here from work. The bastards.’
He doesn’t seem the type to be ordered about by anybody.
‘Who do you work for?’
He yanks the cork out of the wine bottle with his teeth and blows it onto the ground, holding it out to me before picking up another and doing the same thing again. He glugs it down wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
‘A company of morons.’
‘Ah, now I am a veritable expert in that field. I bet you any money I have far worse tales to tell than you,’ I say downing half of the bottle almost in one go.
Oliver’s face lights up unexpectedly. ‘Ah yes, the whole sister making you redundant saga.’
‘Wait until I tell you about Karen the boss.’
‘Let me guess. She’s a sexually confident woman in her forties and everyone needs to know about it.’
We spend the next hour trying to suppress our laughter while swapping workplace horror stories. Oliver is having trouble breaking away from the company. He has not enjoyed working for them for a number of years, but can't quite bring himself to leave the generous pay and conditions.
‘Your sister sounds like a nightmare,’ he says, deflecting attention away from himself.
‘She is.’
‘Why do you let her walk all over you like that?’
I freeze mid-slug and realise I have no proper answer. ‘Well, I… don’t let her walk all over me for a start, and for your information… I… erm, I’m very assertive with her. I’ve made it sound worse than it is. You know, for comedic effect.’
Oliver breaks off more cheese, handing it over to me. ‘Here, you simply haven’t lived until you’ve tried Tree Tickling,’ he says, quickly changing the subject. I force a smile while he demonstrates what he got up to all afternoon, which was tickling each other on the arms and neck with leaves.
‘I’ll show you,’ he says, which feels like a deliberate tactic to distract me and pull me out of the mood that seems to be grabbing hold of me. I stuff the cheese in my mouth and savour the strong flavour. It is delicious.
‘Okay then. Do your worst,’ I say, reluctantly holding out my arm.
Oliver takes my wrist gently and turns it palm up. He plucks a leaf from a nearby branch and trails it round my hand and along my arm. It is a very slow and sensual act, far from the harrowing sobs that my group were treated to. I take a deep breath in and feel my whole body relax.
