Page 19 of In the Same Boat

‘I’m glad someone has finally noticed,’ he says.

He’s a good-looking bloke. He’s nailing the tall, dark and handsome brief. He’s got broad shoulders on top of a body that you can just tell is in great shape. Exactly the kind of guy who you know your mum would be happy to see you bring home – so I bet he’s going down a treat here.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asks me.

‘What are you doing here?’ I reply.

‘I asked you first…’

I hesitate for a second. A slow grin spreads across his face.

‘You’re into older men, eh?’

‘No!’ I say quickly. ‘My gosh, no.’

‘Well, that’s not very nice,’ he teases.

‘What? I didn’t mean it like that, I just mean, no, I’m not here because I fancy older men,’ I insist.

‘Are you’ – he leans in, lowering his voice – ‘looking for a sugar daddy?’

I don’t know if he’s just a dick or he’s actively enjoying teasing me but I’m not here for it. Well, two can play at that game.

‘So you’re here looking for a wealthy older woman to take care of you?’ I reply. ‘Have you never thought of, you know, getting a job instead?’

‘Do I look unemployed to you?’ he replies.

He’s wearing a pair of black trousers and a white shirt with the top few buttons undone. Truthfully? No. However…

‘Yes,’ I say simply, without missing a beat.

‘Well, it’s a night out, not work, so I’m dressed for the occasion. You look like you’re dressed for work… unless you are working?’

My jaw drops, betraying me.

I think my red dress looks great. Not too formal, not too night out-ish. Whatever reason he’s here, sparring with me is clearly the highlight for him. Annoyingly, it might be for me too.

‘I’m here with my dad,’ he tells me.

‘I’m here with my mum,’ I reply.

He laughs.

‘At least come up with your own excuse.’

‘So yours is an excuse?’ I check. ‘Good to know. I am, in fact, telling the truth, because that’s my mum over there, with that letchy old man touching her arm.’

‘Well, I am, in fact, telling the truth too,’ he says, copying my words, and attempting to mimic my voice. ‘And that letchy old man is my dad.’

Shit.

‘I didn’t mean… It’s just… he’s touching her arm and… I didn’t mean old, like old, I meant older, I…’

‘Your arms must be shattered from all that digging,’ he points out, trying but struggling to contain his smile. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell him what you said. They actually look like they’re getting on really well.’

Now that I’m actually looking, he’s right, they do look like they’re getting along. His dad looks friendly, chatty, confident – and my mum, honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her light up in front of a man like this. I’m too young to remember what she was like with my dad, but my stepdad never made her smile beam and her eyes sparkle.

I edge closer to them. The man – the son – follows me.