Page 22 of Annabel and Her Sisters

André and I walked to Bishops Park together on Tuesday evening and it was indeed glorious weather.

I loved London in the summer; so many people were away, it was empty and beautiful, and all the tourists were in the centre, not leafy Fulham.

I’d packed a picnic and given it more thought than was humanly possible.

Nothing elaborate, I’d decided. No homemade quiche or Coronation chicken, or indeed anything that required a knife and fork, just egg mayonnaise sandwiches, strawberries, crisps, a few beers and tinned Pimm’s.

But I made the egg mayonnaise twice because I put too much salt in the first time, and then I panicked and added a few ham in case he didn’t like egg– Derek didn’t– and then it looked like a sandwich mountain so I ate a few and immediately felt fat.

I also went online and bought a couple of cheap, lightweight, collapsible chairs to do away with the horizontal rug situation.

But when they arrived, from Amazon, they looked tacky and flimsy, so I flew to Homebase to buy some more.

The outfit was easier: just a wrap dress and wedge trainers, but dangly earrings and slightly more make-up than I’d usually wear, which I then rubbed off in panic in case in the sunlight it looked overdone.

André arrived in a pale blue shirt and chinos with still slightly damp hair: he looked amazing.

I’d never seen him in mufti. He took the chairs as I carried the basket, and actually, it was easier than I expected.

The chat. The banter. The feeling of walking to a park with a man.

It had been well advertised, the concert, and quite a few people were making their way; the young with plastic bags from Tesco clinking with bottles, the older, like us, carrying portable chairs, I was pleased to note. And he was easy to talk to.

‘How are the skint neighbours? Still throwing gin bottles at each other?’

Next door, the Spanish family had decided to gut the entire ground floor, which involved knocking down all the internal walls, but then Javier had lost his job, so they argued constantly.

‘Yes, and God, it echoes, because they’ve ripped out the carpets, but luckily I don’t understand what they’re saying.

Also I’m out a lot in the evenings so I don’t really hear them.

’ I wasn’t. I watched TV like most people, but I didn’t want him to think I had no life.

‘Or I turn the TV up,’ I added hastily, in case he thought I had too much of a life, with other people.

He nodded. ‘I watched that film you recommended the other day. In Bruges . Hilarious! I was surprised you liked it, though.’

‘I watched it with Polly,’ I explained quickly.

I knew what he meant. It was a bit edgy for me.

A bit… crude. Something you’d probably only watch with young people, like Normal People during Covid, which I’d found squirm-makingly embarrassing, but had to pretend it was fine to watch sex scenes with my children. I mentioned it now.

‘Oh, I couldn’t be doing with that with my lot. It swept the board though, didn’t it? Along with long rosé afternoons. Those I did like, best thing about the pandemic.’

I was glad I’d swapped the beer and tinned Pimm’s for a bottle of Whispering Angel and some glasses at the last minute. The cans had seemed a bit tacky.

‘Your lot being?’

‘Two boys. Eighteen and twenty-six.’

‘Ah. Big gap?’ I couldn’t help saying.

‘Different mothers. I’ve been married twice. Not many women can cope with army life. Lisa left me when I went on a year-long unaccompanied tour in ’96, and Caroline during Afghanistan. In the spirit of full disclosure, my track record for keeping women is not great.’

Again, I liked the honesty. And Hebe had got it slightly wrong. Two ex-wives. And the fact that he was seeing a need to disclose was surely a good sign?

‘That must have been tough for you?’ I hazarded.

He shrugged. ‘Tougher for them. I always chose the army over family, I suppose. Could have left and had a proper home life.’

‘Well, you have now?’

‘I’m a pensioner,’ he told me with a grin. ‘They retire you from active service at a certain age and give you a desk job. I prefer to be active so I started the building business.’

‘Oh, I see. Makes sense. What a clever idea. And with no experience?’

‘I was in the Engineers,’ he explained. ‘Plus, I did engineering at university, and as you might have noticed, I don’t exactly get my hands dirty.’

I laughed. André was the boss, the foreman: he had a team of tradesmen, all of whom were delightful. I mentioned this.

‘Some of those guys were in my squadron. They went on bricklaying courses, plumbing. I told them to, then I employed them.’

‘That was kind.’

He shrugged. ‘No one understands. Ex-servicemen retire so early– they have to– and then all sorts of problems set in. Depression. PTSD.’

I was silent. But he knew what I wanted to ask.

‘Not depression, but definitely some PTSD. You get flashbacks. The Gulf War was pretty horrific. You can’t help but be affected.’ He grinned. ‘Probably another challenge for my wives. Apparently, I sent bedside lamps flying in the night. No recollection. And you?’

‘David died,’ I said simply. ‘Very suddenly and very unexpectedly. Ten years ago. I loved him very much. So…’ Why not. I went for it. ‘You’re my first date, actually.’

He glanced at me, astonished. ‘You’re kidding.’

‘No.’

‘Oh.’ He looked uncomfortable and I wished I hadn’t said date. We were only going to a concert.

‘I mean, not date, but someone I’m– you know–’

‘Date,’ he interrupted firmly.

I smiled down at my trainers. I’d cleaned them thoroughly so they were very white.

‘Well, I’m honoured. Ah– here we are.’ We’d reached the park. ‘Wow, quite a crowd.’

It was. And I also realized, as soon as we went through the gates, that this was a huge mistake.

I immediately saw about three people I knew: one a mother from Polly’s old school, one who lived in the next street, and the third, a very gossipy woman called Anthea, who I’d been friendly with when Luke was younger because our boys had been friends, but who was too catty for me, so I’d backed off.

Despite looking firmly at the grass as we assembled the chairs and the picnic, they all caught my eye, waved, and then looked at André and did a double take.

Lordy, how public this was. And I’d thought safety in numbers.

Hadn’t wanted a cosy tête-à-tête. I concentrated on getting the glasses and the wine out of my wicker basket, as André slipped the chairs out of their canvas slips, which I’d scuffed up a bit to make them look worn.

Homebase hadn’t had any, so I’d had to go elsewhere and they’d been quite expensive.

They looked a bit smart and green wellie.

‘These are nice,’ he said admiringly as the first one converted easily into an attractive canvas and wooden chair.

‘Yes, we’ve had them forever.’

I think we both noticed the price tag hanging from the wooden frame at the same time. I flushed and unpacked the sandwiches.

The concert was fun and the tribute band excellent, and although it wasn’t Gary or Robbie, it almost could have been.

They started with the ballads and then they played the more rocky numbers at the end, and everyone got to their feet and danced a bit.

Well, jigged around and swayed. André and I even sang along to a few we knew, laughing and smiling as we sang out the lyrics to ‘Let It Shine’.

Everyone did, and then we all roared for an encore, which obviously was ‘Angels’.

I realized I hadn’t had so much fun in a long time.

As we began packing up, André folding the chairs and putting them in their slips, Helen, who lived in the next road and was sweet actually, looked about to come and say hello.

I glanced away and she got it immediately.

I saw her put a restraining hand on her husband’s arm as he recognized me and made to come across.

We walked home, chatting easily, and as we turned the corner into my road I knew I should have thought this through. The doorstep moment. Whether just to say goodnight, or ask him in for a coffee. He had the grace to take the decision for me.

‘I won’t come in,’ he said easily. ‘I’ve got an early start tomorrow.’

I think he must have seen the gratitude in my eyes and grinned. ‘For your first date in ten years the last thing you want is a teenage dilemma. And anyway, your parents might be in.’

I laughed. ‘You don’t know how true that is, actually. My mother’s coming to stay once you’ve done the loft extension, but Polly might be in. Not that– you know…’ Suddenly I was all confusion.

He kissed me softly on the cheek. ‘I know. Not that it would matter. And we’ve had a lovely evening, let’s leave it at that. I’ll see you in the morning once I’ve beetled over to check on another job in Barnes.’

And with that, he turned and took his leave.

I let myself in. Then I shut the door behind me and walked down to the kitchen to sit down on a chair, my heart pounding.

Easy. Peasy. Lemon Squeezy. Nice man. See, Annabel?

Not difficult. And no disasters. I swallowed.

Just Thursday to get through now, then I’d have a clearer view.

A better idea. I stayed sitting like that, gazing at David’s photo on the dresser for a long while.

Then I got to my feet, made myself a peppermint tea and went to bed.