‘Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m ten minutes away,’ I say, giggling as I end the call and walk into the shop.
After scanning the limited stock, I find a decent Merlot, it’s twenty pounds, but if Alex is providing dinner, the least I can do is bring the wine. While queuing to pay, I spot a container of Smarties shaped like Father Christmas and pick it up for Harry to thank him for all the croissants and cakes he brings us.
I pay for my stuff and leave the shop with my purchases in a thin carrier bag. I’ve put Alex’s postcode into the app on my phone as he suggested. ‘It’s a bit of a maze,’ he’d said. Twenty minutes later, I’m still walking round ‘the maze’, sure I’ve seen some of these houses more than once. It’s not far from the high street, but this part of town isn’t somewhere I often venture, it’s a forgotten area of empty buildings and overgrown weeds, and the only houses here seem to be boarded up. I can’t help but feel vulnerable, especially after receiving the horrible note today, and as I walk, I keep glancing behind me.
There’s no one about, and I’m aware it’s getting later and later. I’m just walking around in circles, have no idea where I am and it’s starting to feel creepy. I’m tempted to call Alex, but feel like such an idiot getting lost following a map in a city I’ve lived in for most of my life. But after another ten minutes, I’m feeling slightly panicky, and decide to call after all, when he calls me.
‘Are you okay, Hannah? Where are you? I thought you said you were close by.’
‘I’m… I’m… not sure. You live on Black Horse Road, right? The app’s sent me somewhere else… I’m down near the canal, I think. I put the postcode in, but…’ I’m freezing, I hope he can’t hear my teeth chattering.
‘Ahh yeah, the postcode can be a bit iffy, it messes with satnavs too. Look, I’m coming to find you, but as I’ve no idea where you are, I’ll have to find you by your phone.’
‘Okay, but I’m not sure how to do that.’
‘It’s simple. I’m going to send a request to your phone – you accept it, then I can see where you are and come and get you,’ he explains.
‘Great,’ I say, relieved.
And, sure enough, within seconds a message comes through for permission for Alex to see my location. I click it and hear him say, ‘Yeah, I can see where you are, stay there – I’m on my way.’ And the line goes dead.
It’s now 8.15 on a wintery Wednesday night. The rain’s coming down, the street’s empty, and I’m shivering, so rather than just stand and wait, I walk slowly along the path to see if there’s anywhere I can shelter from the rain until Alex turns up. I spot a bus shelter a little further on and walk towards it. The state of me. On our last date, I’d had my hair done, new dress, make-up, perfume, the lot – and even though it was raining that night, I managed to avoid the worst of it. But the rain’s so heavy, even when I’ve reached the shelter, it’s bouncing off the plastic and splashing on my head and up my legs.
Within minutes, a car pulls up beside me, the driver’s window opens and I lean in, feeling a tiny bit like a sex worker.
‘Thank God it’s you!’ I say, laughing, as Alex leans over and pushes open the passenger-side door. I almost fall in, rain shaking off me onto the pale upholstery of his Audi. ‘I’m so sorry to drag you out,’ I say, fastening my seat belt.
‘It’s my pleasure, no problem at all,’ he says. His hands are on the wheel and as I settle in and look up, he’s smiling at me.
‘I know, I know, I look terrible, but I promise I’m the same woman you were out with the other night, just very wet.’
‘And even more beautiful,’ he half-whispers, as he leans over, gently putting his lips on mine.
What starts as a peck becomes more and it’s only when a car beeps loudly behind us that I try to pull away. But he keeps going, his tongue pushing more urgently into my mouth, his arms now wrapped around me. I wish I could relax and enjoy it, but the car behind’s beeping again, harder and longer this time, and Alex suddenly stops kissing me.
‘What the f…?’ He looks in the rear mirror and his hand goes to open the driver’s door. He’s about to get out.
‘Alex, what are you doing?’ I say, looking behind – no wonder the beeping is so loud, it’s a bus. ‘We’re at a bus stop, we have to move,’ I call anxiously to him. He’s now opened the door, and is half in and out of the car. The interior light is on and I can see what looks like pure rage on his face. I put my hand on his arm to stop him getting out, and in a moment, he seems to think better of it.
He moves back onto the seat, and wordlessly turns the key in the ignition, puts his foot down and we roar off down the road. Too fast. In the rain. I’m confused, caught between the afterglow of the moment and his surprising reaction to what just happened. I’m trying to understand it, but feel dizzied by it all.
‘What… what were you doing? Were you going to say something to the driver?’ I ask, incredulously.
‘No, no, I was just looking to see if I knew him.’
‘We were at a bus stop. It was a bus.’
‘Yeah, yeah. I didn’t realise until I got out… I thought it was someone I knew.’
I’m confused. When the bus sounded its horn the second time, Alex’s immediate reaction seemed to be one of anger, which doesn’t suggest that he thought he knew the other driver. And it’s dark and rainy – he clearly wasn’t getting out of the car to say hi to someone.
‘You seemed angry,’ I offer quietly.
‘God no, not at all – I just thought it was a guy I used to… know.’ His voice fades. ‘So how was your day?’ he asks, changing the subject. I wonder if I imagined his anger – or perhaps it was a moment of road rage and he’s a little embarrassed.
‘I had a terrible day,’ I answer blankly, my mind still on what just happened, feeling that he overreacted; but we’ve all been there, an angry beep, a two-fingered salute in response.
‘Well, hopefully your day is about to get better. You okay?’ he asks, probably seeing the questions in my eyes.
‘I’m fine,’ I say, as he slows down to turn off the road and rests his hand gently on my knee.
Perhaps he did think he knew the driver behind, or perhaps the beeping shook him a little. He’s bound to be a bit nervous because we’re new to each other and I get the feeling he’s the protective type, and perhaps thought that I was upset by the bus driver’s reaction. I mustn’t overthink everything, he’s a nice guy, it’s a third date, all I have to do is enjoy it – and settling down into the warm, expensive, new-smelling car, I’m sure I will.
‘I don’t know how I ended up there.’ I smile. ‘I couldn’t find your road, the map app on my phone is useless.’
‘It’s the postcode. Like I said, it causes no end of problems.’
We’re only a few hundred yards from where he picked me up and he turns into Black Horse Road. ‘Oh, I’m such a fool, I was only a few minutes away – I dragged you out into the cold, wet night, I’m so sorry.’