The tumult of youth shooed into the weekend world and Patrick came to join me in returning the scores to the cupboard.
‘Are you leaving tonight?’ he asked. ‘Do you have time for a drink?’
Only the rest of my life.
‘A quick one.’
Was this wise? Throughout the rehearsal I had been cautioning myself to hold back, to be enigmatic, not to let him think I had any more admiration for him than was seemly from a member of staff to her supervisor.
All the same, it was with a giddy sense of being flung on the breeze like an autumn leaf that I followed him to the same pub we had visited that last time.
‘So,’ he said, drinks bought and packet of crisps ripped open for free consumption on the table. ‘You were saying, a while back, that you had no secret lovers in the music stores. Is that still true?’
Wow, straight to the heart of the matter. Was he really going to ..?
‘Um, yes, last time I looked.’
‘So you’re single.’
‘Technically.’
Oh fuck! What kind of a stupid response was that? Why didn’t I just say “yes”?
He frowned. I had just more or less admitted that I was indulging in a festival of commitment-free shagging.
So what? I thought, with a hint of libertine irritation. My sex life was my own affair. Just because I was having sex outside a conventional relationship, did that make me a pariah?
‘What does technically mean? Either you’re single or you aren’t.’
Wrong again, mister.
‘I mean, y’know, Gareth’s obviously still not over everything and I’m –’
‘Oh. Gareth. Right.’
‘He keeps calling me.’
‘He wants you back? Do you want him back?’
‘No. I’m ready to move on.’
‘So don’t let him hold you hostage. He’s a grown-up.’
‘Yeah. I know.’
My cagey tone wasn’t winning me any romance points here. I could see the “Is this worth it?” sliding behind Patrick’s eyes, feel the unsighed breath before it came out. I couldn’t possibly cry off the ball; I would be letting Justin and Maz down badly. It was one weekend. Give me one weekend …
But it didn’t look as if he was going to.
‘OK, the time’s not right,’ said Patrick enigmatically. ‘Story of my life.’
‘Time’s not right? Right for what?’
‘Anything.’
He drained his pint, stood and gathered up his belongings.
‘Patrick, I’m not sure what I’ve done to upset you.’