She began shepherding him down the drive, turning at the last second to mouth another thanks as Wilf continued his post-match commentary. Isaac waved, grinned and then closed the door, slumping his back against it, eyes closed and jaw flexing with tension.
‘Well done,’ I offered, meaning it.
After a few seconds he opened his eyes again, and rather than the anguish that had been hiding in them earlier, I was surprised to see solid granite.
‘Did you see that?’ he asked, as we walked back towards the kitchen. ‘Connie, I mean?’
‘I didn’t notice anything different to normal, no.’
‘Exactly.’ He opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer. ‘No sparkling eyes, glowing cheeks. She didn’t float down the path lost in a dreamy haze.’
‘Okay.’
He popped the cap on the bottle and then pointed it at me. ‘Once Connie’s been on a date with me, there’ll be no mistaking it.’
* * *
For the rest of the week, I couldn’t resist ducking to the Barn’s upstairs office more often than usual, under the pretext of a question about Arthur’s party plans (with less than a fortnight to go, my anxiety was increasing in direct proportion to his excitement), offering them a leftover chunk of cake from round two of the Great Barnish Bake-Off or borrowing a stapler.
‘She’s at the wholesalers,’ Isaac said on Thursday, not bothering to glance up from his computer screen. ‘You’ll have to spy on us another time.’
‘Fair enough,’ I said, with an indifferent shrug. ‘I’ll see you both later.’
‘Wait!’
I hovered in the doorway, my back to him.
‘Would you like a coffee while you’re here?’
I slowly swivelled around. ‘Ooh, I’m not sure. I only popped in because Arthur wanted me to check whether Connie had found the banner he wanted.’
‘Despite Arthur having called to ask her that exact thing yesterday?’ He gave me a pointed look. ‘If you’re going to keep slinking up here to check on me, the least you can do is fill me in.’
I cleared some bunting off a chair and sat down while he poured us both a drink.
‘Well?’
Taking a couple of sips, I considered whether there was any point in trying to dodge the question. Isaac narrowed his eyes, confirming that there was no point whatsoever.
‘I’m actually quite impressed. I thought you’d be mooching around here like some scorned Victorian poet. Either that or back to snappy and stroppy.’
‘I was never stroppy! You make me sound like a moody teenager.’
‘You said it, brother. Anyway, as I was saying, you’re doing an admirable job of pretending you aren’t seething with envy or walking about with broken chunks of heart rattling about in your ribcage. I’m pretty sure Connie suspects nothing.’
Isaac puffed up his chest like the woodpigeons currently courting their mates in the Barn garden.
‘Although, I am wondering if you’re acting a bittooMr Reasonable, Friendly Nice Guy.’
‘Too reasonable? Is this how you earn your expert relationship fee, by giving your clients directly contradictory advice so they can’t complain if whichever one they follow doesn’t work?’
‘Well.’ I shifted in my chair. ‘If she is starting to like you, she might secretly hope that you don’t love her dating someone else.’
‘It was one date.’ Isaac was very still. ‘Wasn’t it?’
I hesitated about whether answering that was betraying my friend’s confidence, before realising that what Connie did in a public place was hardly a secret. ‘She stayed for training on Wednesday and a bottle of lemonade and packet of fancy crisps might have been shared on the side-lines.’
‘Shared between who?’ Isaac gripped his coffee mug so tightly I feared the handle would snap off. ‘Just the two of them?’
