39 Weeks (31 page)

‘Right. Well what if I promise not to talk to you and stay
out of your way
the whole time. How about that?’

‘Oh okay, come on then.’

‘Gee thanks
’ Rob said
. ‘You’re so good to me.’

‘Would you like some tea or coffee before you start?’
I asked as politeness dictated I should.

‘It’s okay I’ll get it, are you having one?’

I picked up my still steaming cup from the dining table in answer to his question, and he nodded on his way to the kitchen.
I sat back down at the dining table and tried to get back into work mode after being interrupted.

‘It was a good night last night don’t you think?’ Rob said
,
unseen to me while he waited for the kettle to boil
in the kitchen
.

‘Mm.’

‘Nice flat I thought eh?’

‘Mm.’

‘The kitchen could do wi
th a bit of an update
though,
but it wouldn’t take much.’

‘Mm hmm.’

Rob came back into the living room carrying a mug of coffee. ‘They both seemed happy anyway and I suppose that’s what counts.’

‘Mm.’

‘Maybe we should invite them back, it’s a bit crowded at Marsha’s but they could come to yours up here. I’d buy all the food and do all the cooking. What do you think?’
He said standing in front of me sipping his freshly made brew.

‘Rob I’m trying to concentrate.
I have to get this finished.’

‘Oh yeah. Sorry.’

He walked over to the window, deposited his coffee on the window sill and started fiddling with the paint roller that was still drying out from being washed after yesterday’s first coat.

‘How much more have you got to do
of . . whatever it is you’re doing
?’ Rob asked as he poured paint into the roller tray.

‘A bit.’ I said not looking at him.

‘How long will a bit take?’

‘All day if you keep interrupting.’

‘Sorry.’

He arranged the old shower curtain he was using as a dust cloth to prevent any spats of paint on the carpet, and started rolling paint on the wall. For all of five minutes it was quiet while he painted and I worked on the last page of the spreadsheet, this was the important one that would give Norman’s sons business it’s final figures.

‘I just thought that maybe, when I’ve finished this, maybe we . .’
Rob started to say.

I stopped and looked up at him on the ladder he’d borrowed from Mac and Marsha.
‘Sorry, I said I wasn’t going to interrupt didn’t I?’
he said contritely.

‘Well I’ve stopped now, so what were you going to say?’

‘No it’s alright I won’t interrupt again. Promise.’ He said turning back to face the wall.

‘Rob just say what you were going to say.’

Turning back to face me he said,
‘I was just wondering if maybe when you’ve finished that, and I’ve finished this second coat tha
t . . well while it’s drying
. . we could . .’

‘Could? Just say it and then I can get on, I really have to finish this. Could what?’

‘Um . . go for a drink was all I was going to say. I just thought you’ve been working at that every night this week and maybe you’d li
ke to, I don’t know . . get out . . go out . .
maybe for a drink, that’s all I was going to say.’ Rob gibbered.

‘A drink.’

‘Yeah a Sunday lunch time drink, you know at a pub, maybe get some lunch while we’re at it. But only if you want to.’

My last remaining brain cell went into overdrive. Was this Rob asking me out on a date, or was this two friends
just going somewhere together? Oh my God. Well only one way to find out.

‘Yes that would be nice.’ I said trying desperately to sound as casual as I could and play it down as much as possible as if the idea of a ‘date’ hadn’t even entered my mind.

‘Okay. Great. When do you think you’ll be finished?’

‘Oh um, another hour should do it I think.’

‘Okay then. I won’t say another word
,
I mean it this time.’

‘Okay.’ I said turning back to my computer so he wouldn’t see my face.

Oh God what was I going to wear? What do you wear to a Sunday lunch time date that might not be a date? It’s got to be attractive, well as much as I could manage
given my ever expanding waistline, on the other hand it can’t be too full on obvious in case it’s not a date, so it’s got to be casual. And I didn’t really have that much to choose from anyw
ay. Jeans and my new black cost-a-
fortune, shirt, I
decided.

Finalising accounts
was off the agenda for the time being, it was impossible to concentrate on anything. Course I tapped away at the laptop going through the motions, the last thing I wanted was for Rob to see that I’d flipped out over the idea of a date. No it was important for him to think I was working hard and hadn’t given the idea of him asking me out for drink any more than a moment’s thought. But I can’t say it was easy. Thank God I’d washed my hair. 

6
th
November – Week 23 +
Half
A Day

Rob had finished giving the living room it’s second coat and was in the kitchen wa
shing out the paint tray and
roller. The paint fumes were making me a bit queasy so he’d opened the windows and I was still sitting at the dining table, but now I was wearing an old cardigan
,
over the top of my tee shirt
,
and
that I couldn’t do up
properly
, but it was helping to keep me
a bit
warmer now the windows were
wide
open.

I’d tried to get my head round finishing everything off for Norman’s son and the taxman. I’d wanted to get it all done and dusted by Monday morning, although Norman hadn’t actually put a time limit on it
, but still it would have been quite impressive to be able to w
alk in Monday morning and say ‘t
here you go’, well maybe not quite that exactly but something along those lines. But after Rob’s lunch proposal my poor little brain cell was not co-operating, and the final figures I’d arrived at were showing that there was a profit of more than fifty thousand pounds, which couldn’t possibly be right. I mean
I’d already figured
out
that they
’d probably made roughly about three
grand profit but for taxman purposes I needed to show that they’d hardly made any profit at all, and I’
d worked out I could get it
down to nearer six
hundred pounds
what
with all the expenses
and initial outlay.
Obviously
in my
‘he asked me out’
trancelike state
I’d added a zero or two where I shouldn’t have.

All I could think about was is this a date or just lunch, would my black shirt be okay or should I rethink, would I have time to straighten my hair or had it miraculously dried reasonably straight on its own for once?

I told myself again, because I hadn’t thought it for at least ten minutes, that a lunch time drink didn’t necessarily mean anything, in fact almost certainly didn’t mean anything.
I told myself that
even if it was a proper date invite
I didn’t want a bloke in my life, I didn’t need the hassle and the stress that inevitably comes with that particular package, and that Rob wasn’t interested in me in that way anyway, but I wasn’t listening.

Rob finished up in the kitchen and was balancing the roller to stand up in the paint tray
,
on top of the now folded up again shower curtain to finish drying off ready for its next use. The living room looked great, it was probably going to need another coat but now that the peach had
almost been obliterated and everything was pristine cream it looked bigger somehow, and so much more me, not to mention not shouting at my pink settee
anymore.

‘How’s it going, you nearly finished?’ Rob said.

‘Mm nearly.’ I said without looking up trying to give the impression I was too engrossed to worry about casual lunch dates.

‘Well I’ll just go and have a quick shower, see you in about an hour, is that alright?’ He said en route
to the door.

‘Yeah fine, I should be finished by then.’ I said still not looking at him, but raising my hand in a casual goodbye
wave
.

He left, and as soon as I heard the door close behind him, I stopped looking at my laptop for the first time in what had felt like the last three days, and breathed a sigh of relief.
I had an hour to pull myself together, literally as in get ready, and emotionally as in not hyperventilating.

Okay I was going to
have time to straighten my hair but
should I shave my legs? No probably didn’t need to go that far, I mean I was going to be wearing jeans anyway and the chances that at some point I wouldn’t be wearing them were very slim indeed.
What was I thinking, I had to stop letting my imagination run away with me, of course I was going to keep my jeans on. God this was going to be a disaster, we’d go for a nice cosy drink, bit of lunch, and I’d be all gaga and drooling. Wonderful.

I shut do
wn the computer and tidied
up the paperwork promising myself I’d go over the figures again to find my elusive zero’s
after lunch, or this evening anyway, and went into the bedroom to change
into clean jeans and the
new
black shirt
. I was mid-straighten on the hair front, I mean literally half my head was straight and the other half was still all flicky and flyaway, when the phone went. It was Mum.

‘Hi Mum, can’t really talk now, I’m just on my way out.’

‘Oh. I was going to come over, I’ve bought a couple of things for the baby.’

‘That’
s great Mum, thanks.’ God that’s all
I need
ed
another visit from my mother
.

‘What about next week then?’

‘Yes that’ll be fine. Sorry but I really am in a rush.’

‘I’ll see you next Sunday then.’ She said in full martyr mode.

‘Okay next Sunday. Bye Mum.’

Phew that was close. My first proper date with Rob, well it might be, maybe, and m
y ever-loving interfering mater
was about to blow it.

I finished the other half of my hair, and scrutinised my face in the mirror. I definitely needed makeup, no question. But it was lunchtime so it was going to have to be makeup that looked like no makeup, well not much, always difficult that. I applied the minimum of foundation, loads of mascara, and a paler than usual lipstick. ‘So what do you think?’ I asked my bu
mp as I stroked her absently, ‘w
ill I do?’

I felt a weird feeling in my tummy. It was more than the fluttering indigestion I’d been feeling lately. This was definite movement. A hand or a foot, or maybe an elbow. I’d felt it inside and felt it with my hand on the outside. I was rooted to the spot, and waited to see if it did it again. But after a couple of minutes it didn’t look like it was going to.

‘Was that you in there, moving about?’ I asked my bump feeling a bit stupid and that I’d imagined the whole thing
. There was no response and I started gently massaging my bump, but couldn’t feel anything else. Was it real? Did I really feel my baby moving? No must have been a fluke. Some undigested bit of toast or something. Still it had taken my mind off Rob and the whole is it a date or not a date thing for a bit.

Almost exactly to the minute one hour after he’d left, Rob knocked on the door. ‘Ready?’ he said looking scrubbed and completely gorgeous in his own version of Sunday lunch casual.

I grabbed
my
goes with my jeans bag
, and followed him down the stairs. We got in his car and he started the engine. ‘So anywhere in particular you fancy?’
he said.

‘No you choose, I’m not really savvy with Sunday lunch time pubs.’

‘Okay, how about The Willow Tree, they do a carvery?’

‘That sounds nice, where is it?’

‘Well it’s out a bit, takes about twenty minutes to get there, on the river out Richmond way.
It’s r
eally nice in the summer sitting outside, but it’s probably a bit cold for that today,
but the view’s nice.’

‘Okay great.’ I said hoping I wasn’t drooling to
o
obviously.

He pulled out and we remained silent while he negotiated town
traffic that was almost as busy
as if it had been a Saturday. But once we were on the other side of town and things relaxe
d a bit traffic-wise Rob said ‘s
o what is this thing you’ve been working on all week?’