We wound our way back to Brooksby through the twilight. I watched the sky melt through Prussian blue to thick black with fluttering joy and wonder. I had only gone and done it.
After spending the drive home phrasing and rephrasing multiple times in my head how to invite Nathan, coach-friend, in to help me celebrate by washing down some of the farm-shop purchases with a glass of wine, he saved me the bother.
‘You made it.’ He parked the car outside my house.
‘I still can’t believe it. Today’s been like a dream. Beyond anything I could have dreamed of, to be honest.’
‘Well done.’
‘Thank you for persuading me to do it. It made all the difference, you being there. And, I’m astounded to say, I really enjoyed myself. And the planning – I can’t tell you how much it means, you bothering to do that.’
‘Well, planning’s kind of my thing.’ He laughed, awkwardly, glancing across until his eyes hit mine. And there it was – pow! A bolt of intensity, like a traction beam locking our gaze. And suddenly we were enveloped by velvety darkness, as the car filled with soft, heart-thumping silence. My chest seized, but this was nothing like the anxiety which had been mumbling in the background for most of the day. This was good nerves. Positive Panic, which I probably just made up, but for goodness’ sake, Amy, stop wittering and do something adorable or sexy or preferably both. But don’t use your hands because they’re sweaty and gross. And watch the handbrake. Maybe try leaning in and—
On second thoughts, maybe not.
Nathan abruptly whipped his head back to face the road. ‘You must be exhausted. And I’m meeting a friend later, so I’d better get on.’
‘Right. Right! Yes, of course. And Joey’ll be back any minute. I can’t wait to tell him.’ I fumbled at the seat belt, continuing to blether on until I’d managed to extricate myself and figure out where the handle was on a door I’d been opening quite merrily all day.
Nathan waited for my malfunctioning mouth to pause for the briefest of breaths, engine already running. ‘Enjoy your evening.’
‘You too! Enjoy your… friend. Thanks again. See you Wednesday. If not before, who knows – I’ll probably be all over the place now, could turn up anywhere.’ Thankfully, at that point, my body took over, slamming the car door and allowing Nathan to drive off before I sprinted down the path to safety.
He did wait at the end of the road until I’d made it inside, but hey, that’s just the kind of guy he is.
* * *
Two glasses of wine, an enormous salad and five different types of cheese later, I texted my boss, saying I’d be delighted to accept his invitation to discuss the senior bid writer’s role – name a time and a place and I’d attend the heck out of it, in person, face to face, in actual bodily form, all present and correct.
He replied shortly afterwards, inviting me to his office on 11 February and congratulating me on my use of synonyms.
After a slice of cake made with local, organic carrots, some quick-fire bartering, and a longer online loan application, I had bought myself a car.
47
Stop Being a Loser Programme
Day One Hundred and Twenty-Five
I shouldn’t have been surprised that the following Wednesday morning, more than a few of the Larks seemed to have chosen me as their pacemaker. Not only had Dani left Nathan and me on top of the hill together, Mel had winked at me so many times across the chapel, someone had asked if her eye needed praying for.
I kept up a steady too-breathless-to-speak pace, but not saying anything only piqued their curiosity, and by the time we reached the Cup and Saucer, I was like the popular girl in an American high-school movie cafeteria scene, there were so many chairs squashed around my table. Nathan didn’t help by leaving straight after the cool-down.
Giving in, I offered a boring as possible summary of the day, pretending that my Cheshire cat grin was down to conquering a day outside, not the company while I did it.
‘Well, I reckon it’s fab that you two are friends,’ Mel said. ‘Nate’s everyone’s mate, no one’s friend. He could do with someone to get a bit more real with.’
I nodded vaguely. He’d barely said three words to me all morning, and not even asked whether I’d been out again (yes, on both days, around the village and even inside a couple of shops), so I was pretty sure I’d been bumped back from the friend zone to client. At least Mel wasn’t insinuating we were more than friends, like there’d been a lust-filled moment in his car or anything.
‘Enough about that,’ Selena flapped her hand, as if discussing the second-best day of my life was beyond boring. ‘We need to plan the triathlon. It’s only three months away, and we haven’t even decided who’s doing what.’
‘If nine or more of us are taking part, the rules say we need at least three in each race,’ Isobel announced from the next table.
‘Thank you, Isobel, for pointing out what we all already knew,’ Selena droned back. ‘The crucial question is, who does what?’
We then entered into a brief debate, involving everyone talking over everyone else and saying the same thing, which was that Marjory should run. By process of elimination, we then determined that the three women with a bike would have to cycle – Dani, Isobel and a woman whose name I hadn’t found out in the acceptable window of asking time and would now remain an awkward mystery until someone else joined the Larks and got introduced. I called her Mystery Woman One, to distinguish her from the other woman whose name I’d failed to learn or remember — Mystery Woman Two.
Selena was the only one who wanted to swim.
