they'd hear it next door.
‘I was hoping you'd say that,’ said Mark.
Chapter Eight
‘So you've got a date with the gorgeous Mark?’ Katie teased Emily as they sat in the lounge watching
Dirty Dancing
, where Patrick Swayze was showing how the rumba should be done. Isabella had recommended it as useful background. So far, the combination of chasing children into bed, far too much wine and gossiping had led them to miss most of the film.
‘Well, it's not a date,’ said Emily. ‘I went round to watch
Green Wing
and he's coming round to mine to watch some more. I'm cooking. It's not a date.’
‘Nooooo, of course it isn't,’ teased Katie. ‘And he wants to come round for dinner with me too.’
‘Well, you're married,’ said Emily.
‘Oh right, because I'm married with fat thighs, no man will ever look at me again?’ said Katie.
‘What?’ said Emily.
‘Well, you make it sound as if I'm some old has-been that no sane man would look at in a million years. I know I'm married, but it would be nice to think I might still have an ounce of attractiveness left. Besides, he doesn't know I'm married, and he still chose you. It's my fat thighs, I tell you.’
‘Don't be daft,’ said Emily. ‘Of course it isn't.’
‘So Rob's not the only one who thinks I have fat thighs, then?’
‘Katie, will you stop going on about your fat thighs!’ saidEmily. ‘Anyway, why should you care about what Rob thinks? you've got it all. Charlie, the kids, the house. Your life's perfect.’
‘Yes, of course,’ muttered Katie. For a moment she was tempted to confide in Emily, but she had never been one for girly confidences, always feeling she should be able to sort her problems out by herself. No doubt something to do with having spent years growing up and not talking to anyone about the misery of her home life. Besides, Katie would rather have died than admit there was anything wrong with her marriage. Even to Emily. ‘It's just with Charlie away so much I end up feeling quite sorry for myself. Which is ridiculous. Now, where were we? Isn't this the bit where Patrick Swayze dances with Jennifer Grey in the lake?’
Rob sat in the Hookers, drinking his pint and doing the crossword. The pub hadn't been the same since the smoking ban. It was too cold to go out for a fag under the canopy Barry had erected outside.
Smokers: the most ostracised members of modern society. Discuss.
Rob had hoped Mark would be joining him, but Mark apparently had a date. Although the way Mark had put it was, ‘I'm going round to Emily's to watch the next episode of
Green Wing
,’ and then muttered something about her cooking him a meal. But it wasn't a date. Mark had been adamant on that point. Except that Rob evidently wasn't invited, so here he was, alone in the Hookers, trying to avoid the eye of Paranoid Pete, who needed no encouragement to leap in with, ‘They're watching us, you know.’ Rob knew of old that to answer ‘Who?’ would have Pete touching his nose briefly before muttering
sotto voce
, ‘The others,’ before proceeding to launch into a rant against aliens, New Labour and, bizarrely, scratch cards.
Oh God. And there was Dicey Derek, Thurfield's best used-car salesman. Rob had once made the mistake of buying a car from him. When he was hit from behind by a woman in a 4×4 on the school run, it more or less fell into two pieces. And yetstill, Derek would come to tempt him with more goodies. Rob's salary was so pathetic, and Derek's prices so suspiciously good, it was horribly tempting sometimes.
Rob buried himself in his paper again. Good, Derek had found some pals in a corner. He could relax.
He looked around the bar again. The Hookers. So much a part of his life, it was like a second home. He came here every night of the week apart from Thursday. He had been known to spend the whole of Saturday here. Though now some of his ex-pupils were showing up, that was becoming slightly less appealing. Maybe Mark had a point.
‘I was hoping you'd say that,’ said Mark.
Chapter Eight
‘So you've got a date with the gorgeous Mark?’ Katie teased Emily as they sat in the lounge watching
Dirty Dancing
, where Patrick Swayze was showing how the rumba should be done. Isabella had recommended it as useful background. So far, the combination of chasing children into bed, far too much wine and gossiping had led them to miss most of the film.
‘Well, it's not a date,’ said Emily. ‘I went round to watch
Green Wing
and he's coming round to mine to watch some more. I'm cooking. It's not a date.’
‘Nooooo, of course it isn't,’ teased Katie. ‘And he wants to come round for dinner with me too.’
‘Well, you're married,’ said Emily.
‘Oh right, because I'm married with fat thighs, no man will ever look at me again?’ said Katie.
‘What?’ said Emily.
‘Well, you make it sound as if I'm some old has-been that no sane man would look at in a million years. I know I'm married, but it would be nice to think I might still have an ounce of attractiveness left. Besides, he doesn't know I'm married, and he still chose you. It's my fat thighs, I tell you.’
‘Don't be daft,’ said Emily. ‘Of course it isn't.’
‘So Rob's not the only one who thinks I have fat thighs, then?’
‘Katie, will you stop going on about your fat thighs!’ saidEmily. ‘Anyway, why should you care about what Rob thinks? you've got it all. Charlie, the kids, the house. Your life's perfect.’
‘Yes, of course,’ muttered Katie. For a moment she was tempted to confide in Emily, but she had never been one for girly confidences, always feeling she should be able to sort her problems out by herself. No doubt something to do with having spent years growing up and not talking to anyone about the misery of her home life. Besides, Katie would rather have died than admit there was anything wrong with her marriage. Even to Emily. ‘It's just with Charlie away so much I end up feeling quite sorry for myself. Which is ridiculous. Now, where were we? Isn't this the bit where Patrick Swayze dances with Jennifer Grey in the lake?’
Rob sat in the Hookers, drinking his pint and doing the crossword. The pub hadn't been the same since the smoking ban. It was too cold to go out for a fag under the canopy Barry had erected outside.
Smokers: the most ostracised members of modern society. Discuss.
Rob had hoped Mark would be joining him, but Mark apparently had a date. Although the way Mark had put it was, ‘I'm going round to Emily's to watch the next episode of
Green Wing
,’ and then muttered something about her cooking him a meal. But it wasn't a date. Mark had been adamant on that point. Except that Rob evidently wasn't invited, so here he was, alone in the Hookers, trying to avoid the eye of Paranoid Pete, who needed no encouragement to leap in with, ‘They're watching us, you know.’ Rob knew of old that to answer ‘Who?’ would have Pete touching his nose briefly before muttering
sotto voce
, ‘The others,’ before proceeding to launch into a rant against aliens, New Labour and, bizarrely, scratch cards.
Oh God. And there was Dicey Derek, Thurfield's best used-car salesman. Rob had once made the mistake of buying a car from him. When he was hit from behind by a woman in a 4×4 on the school run, it more or less fell into two pieces. And yetstill, Derek would come to tempt him with more goodies. Rob's salary was so pathetic, and Derek's prices so suspiciously good, it was horribly tempting sometimes.
Rob buried himself in his paper again. Good, Derek had found some pals in a corner. He could relax.
He looked around the bar again. The Hookers. So much a part of his life, it was like a second home. He came here every night of the week apart from Thursday. He had been known to spend the whole of Saturday here. Though now some of his ex-pupils were showing up, that was becoming slightly less appealing. Maybe Mark had a point.
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