Page 88 of Leaning In

Tom frowns. “I’m certain it will go well. I’d love to meet them properly.”

I should try and explain more. About how lunch won’t really be about the food it will be about performance; saying the right things, wearing the right things. But I still don’t know how to explain it without him realising that being with me involves too much work.

So instead I smile and offer to top up his cup of tea too.

Chapter 36

Tom

Itriple-check my shirt is correctly buttoned before ringing the bell again. I don’t know why I’m so nervous, I’m sure things will be better this time. Maybe I’m anxious because I already feel more serious about Claire than I’ve ever done about anyone else. Whatever it is, my palms feel clammy as I press the bell.

We haven’t spoken about it, but I know that I’m only here because her mum forced Claire’s hand. But if I can survive singing eleven-year-olds on a bus, I can survive this.

Claire spent the morning shopping with her mum. Even though it’s November, Christmas markets are beginning to open, and she wanted to help her mum pick out some presents. I was at football, but I wish we were arriving together. It’d mean that I could double check all the approved topics she’s been briefing me on this week. Maybe I should’ve written flashcards.

The person who answers the door is an unfamiliar face. I almost double back to check I’ve got the right house, but then she introduces herself as the housekeeper and offers to hang up my jacket. Ah, so this is a housekeeper sort of house. I take in the paintings on the wall. That one looks original and not like a print.

I’d imagined this house would be nice, but it’s not even in the same hemisphere as nice. My vague recollections from childhood and going with my mum to pick Kath up are faded and faulty. I was probably more focussed on things like the latest football scores, than interior décor.

I clutch the bottle of wine and flowers tightly as I take in the hallway. This place is way bigger on the inside; the front door was deceptive, it’s like stepping into the TARDIS. The hallway looks like something out of a magazine. Everything is both incredibly clean and incredibly tasteful. No stacks of trainers leaning precariously like the Tower of Pisa, half broken umbrellas or scuffed marks on the wall from a bicycle. There are vases filled with fresh flowers, and suddenly the ones I bought from the supermarket look wrong.

“Everyone’s just sitting down to lunch,” the housekeeper tells me, and I give an awkward nod, before heading into a ginormous dining room. It has a huge wooden table that could seat at least sixteen people, and the places are clustered at one end, with Claire’s father sitting at the head of the table. David (if I’m remembering his name correctly) is a tall, thin man, with neat grey hair and eyes that match his daughter’s. He gives me a half-smile and a nod as I enter the room.

Claire sees me and stands to give me a hug, as does Sophia. Claire’s hug is tense, and I suddenly notice that she’s in a very nice dress with a matching blazer. It looks more like she’s going to a business meeting than a lunch. I knew to dress smartly, but maybe I should have worn a jacket.

Claire squeezes my hand and introduces her parents to me as “Mr and Mrs Robinson”, even though we’ve met before. Including relatively recently. Despite that, there’s no offer of a first name. I kiss her mum on the cheek, handing her the flowers and wine, before shaking her dad’s hand. I scan the room and notice another guy, a blond man. Maybe he’s a cousin or something. He’s in a blue collared shirt and perfectly tailored trousers. The light glints off something and I realise that he’s wearing cufflinks. Oh god.

“And this is Angus,” Claire finishes, and he waves at me.

“What region is this wine from, Tom?” Mrs Robinson says, and my steps stutter as I make my way to my assigned seat. Region? This was just the nicest looking bottle in the local supermarket. I haven’t memorised the label.

“I’m not sure, I’ll have to look it up.” I give her a smile.

“Hmm.” She purses her lips.

I try to keep my smile in place as I take my seat opposite Claire. “I’m sorry I didn’t arrive with Claire. I volunteer on Sunday mornings and we had a meeting afterwards, so I couldn’t get away earlier.”

“Oh, where?” Sophia asks.

I start to explain the charity and football coaching whilst Claire sits stiffly opposite me.

The housekeeper brings through bowls of soup and I realise that not only are we having a three-course meal, we’re also being served.

“Claire’s done some volunteering with the arts side of the charity,” I tell Mrs Robinson after finishing a mouthful of bread.

Sophia perks up. “She’d mentioned it, it sounded really fun.”

Claire flashes her a grateful look, but I catch the slight twitch in her shoulders, the way she sits just a little too straight, like she’s bracing herself.

Mrs Robinson blinks, momentarily thrown, and Mr Robinson hums non-committally. Possibly-cousin Angus looks vaguely impressed, like he just clocked that Claire has hidden depths beyond what he expected.

Claire looks at me, meeting my eyes, and something in her face softens, but then she just shakes her head almost imperceptibly. I bump her leg with mine, but she doesn’t acknowledge it. The silence after my comment sits in the room, and my palms start getting clammy again. I rack my brain for one of the pre-approved conversation topics, but my mind goes blank. I think something to do with a recent holiday to France?

I open my mouth, trying to work out what to say, but luckily Sophia redirects the conversation, and I discover that Angus isn’t a cousin, but a family friend.

A family friend who makes a pointed remark about being single. Ok then.

“I meant to talk to your mother about Christmas,” Claire’s mum says to him. “See if we could do something together before. I was hoping to organise a drinks party.”