Winning this dinner tonight is worth more than any TV, because I’m at The Hopeful Ghost, with Alfie, with their private function room to ourselves. I might have worried that I was overdressed but as soon as I got in Alfie’s car and saw that he was wearing a navy suit, I relaxed. He’s clearly made an effort tonight too.
The food here at The Hopeful Ghost is great. It’s just good, old-fashioned pub grub, but it’s done so well.
To start with, I opted for the haddock fishcakes, topped with a poached egg and hollandaise sauce, which was absolutely delicious – so delicious that I cleared my plate, which is why, when they placed my main down in front of me, I was worried I might not be able to eat it. The roast beef was cooked to perfection, the vegetables were spot on, and the giant Yorkshire pudding – puffed up like a cloud – was perhaps the best bit.
My dessert, baked chocolate chip cookie dough with peanut butter ice cream, has just been placed down in front of me and, despite thinking I was full, the sight of it has caused my stomach to somehow make way for more.
As soon as we arrived, I filled Alfie in on the latest drama in the life of Lily Holmes, and after a brief chuckle at the absurdity of the chain of events that saw me resume my public enemy number one title, he assured me that everything was going to be OK. His optimism is touching, but I’m not sure I have his faith.
After polishing off as much of my dessert as possible, I finish off my Westwood Farm cider.
‘God, these are good,’ I tell him.
‘Thanks,’ he replies. ‘I’m hoping to sell them further afield, you can only get them locally at the moment. Watch this space.’
I’m not just saying this because he’s my friend, his ciders really are amazing and they should be sold all over the country. I feel like they’d be really at home in a YumYum deli, alongside our other speciality alcoholic drinks. I’m going to give Eric a call in the morning and mention it to him.
‘The deli is pretty much ready to open now – the only thing we’ll be missing is customers.’
‘I believe in you and I believe in the deli,’ he says and, again, I wish I had his faith. ‘Why don’t we go for a walk? I could do with it, after everything I just ate, and maybe we’ll come up with something that might help.’
‘That would be great,’ I reply. ‘I’m in no rush to go home.’
Alfie smiles.
‘You know, I think that might be the first time you’ve called this place home.’
‘Really?’ I reply.
‘Yeah, you always refer to it as “the cottage”,’ he points out. ‘Do you think you might be finally fitting in?’
‘If you’d asked me that this time yesterday, I probably would’ve said yes,’ I say. ‘But now, everything feels messy again.’
As we leave the pub and walk along the seafront, I take Alfie by the arm. This is mainly to steady myself on the bumpy path, but there’s also this overwhelming urge to be close to him.
‘It’s chilly tonight, isn’t it?’ I say, offering up an alternative reason for holding on to him.
‘It is,’ he replies. ‘I’d say it was a welcome break, after some of the roasting nights we’ve had this summer, but apparently it feels so much colder because of the wind, ahead of the storm coming tomorrow.’
‘I heard about it on the news,’ I tell him. ‘Am I going to be OK in the cottage or am I going to wake up in Oz?’
Alfie laughs.
‘You know where I am if you need me,’ he says. ‘But I’m sure Nathan will know what to do, given his experience.’
‘Oh, yes, of course, his experience,’ I reply. I’m growing increasingly convinced he doesn’t actually have any real experience in anything, and I have a few pieces of wood haphazardly placed in a tree to show for it.
‘We haven’t walked this way before,’ I say. We’ve been on a few walks together and we’ve been around looking at the sights, but this part of the beach is new to me.
Alfie leads me to a small cove. A private little nook in a coastline I thought I’d seen every inch of. It’s dark here, and oddly quiet – I suppose because we’re away from the roads, and the public hot spots.
Using our phone torches for light, we walk across the small patch of sand, sandwiched between sea and grass. Alfie leads me towards a weather beaten old bench with a rusted plaque screwed onto the backrest. I hold my torch closer to it, leaning in to get a better look.
‘In loving memory of Donald and Joan Barton,’ I read out loud. ‘Were they related to you?’
Alfie nods as we sit down.
‘My grandparents,’ he tells me. ‘You know that my relationship with my dad wasn’t great, and that my mum’s relationship with my dad wasn’t great either. I don’t think anyone who knows about my parents’ marriage is surprised I’m 35 years old and unmarried, because growing up in that kind of environment isn’t exactly an advert for it. But my grandparents were a different story. They met when they were kids, they got married, had my dad and lived happily together until my granddad died. My grandma, who was seemingly healthy, died of a heart attack a few weeks later. Now, I’m not saying she died of a broken heart, but that’s what everyone said at the time. What I do know is that they devoted their lives to one another and that’s why I’m not put off love and relationships, because some of them work and some of them don’t. But the great ones are really something special, you know?’
‘I know,’ I reply with a smile.
‘Bad experiences put us off things, but everything has the potential to be something great. Don’t let a little setback convince you that you can’t be happy here. The headway you made with the mums at school is a sign you should keep at it, because it is possible.’
‘I know, I know. I just feel like this is a big sign that I should give up.’
‘This isn’t a sign,’ he laughs, wrapping an arm around me. ‘Signs are more obvious.’
As I turn to look at Alfie and smile, I notice that he’s already looking at me. Our faces are just inches apart and all I want to do is kiss him, because he’s wonderful, because he looks after me, because my feelings for him just won’t go away. Is he giving me a sign that I should kiss him? Or are signs really much more obvious than this?
I feel my breathing quicken as we look into each other’s eyes. As much as I want to kiss him, I should respect what he said about wanting to be friends, and not wanting to get involved with me while things are so messy. I should…it would be awful of me if I didn’t…and yet…
I’ve barely moved my face an inch towards his when his phone rings from inside his pocket. I quickly pull back.
‘It won’t be anything important,’ he insists.
‘No, no, it’s fine, answer it,’ I say, feeling a little saved by the bell. If I had tried to kiss him, and friends was still all he wanted to be, I would’ve ruined everything.
‘It’s just Charlie,’ he says. ‘I’ll call her back later.’
‘No worries,’ I say, wiggling free from his arm.
If there really are unexplained signs in the universe, this seems like a pretty blatant one.