Page 20 of Love in Tune

Friday dawned cool and grey, and found Honey knocking off work early to go home and cook bolognese for her hot date with Robin.

She’d gone into work full of trepidation that morning, only to find that Christopher was out of the building for a meeting at head office and wasn’t expected back all day.

Honey tried not to wonder if he’d been called in as a result of Tuesday’s shenanigans.

There would undoubtedly be fallout from their actions, but it seemed that thankfully it was to be staved off for the weekend at least.

Mimi, Lucille and Billy had been waiting for her at the door when she’d arrived at work, presenting her with a fruitcake baked by Patrick and a rousing rendition of ‘For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow’.

Much as Honey loved cake and appreciated the support, she left work filled with worry about next week. Lucille followed her to the door.

‘Put it all out of your head for now and have a lovely weekend, dear,’ she said, holding on to Honey’s forearm with a twinkle in her eye. ‘Carpe diem.’

Honey smiled. It was fast becoming Lucille’s catchphrase.

‘Thank you, Lucille. I needed reminding of that today,’ she planted a kiss on the older woman’s cheek. ‘Wish me luck with Robin.’

‘Well, if he doesn’t think you’re wonderful he won’t be worth your efforts,’ Lucille said, and Honey hugged her, especially glad of her loyal support after Hal’s apparent abdication from their friendship.

Making bolognese on her own turned out to be far more stressful than making it with Hal there for guidance.

Honey couldn’t quite remember the order things were supposed to go in, and although the end result looked pretty much as it should, it had gone seriously off-piste in the flavour department.

Robin certainly wasn’t going to be bowled over by her cooking skills, that much was for sure.

Just before five o’clock she nipped to the off-licence for more wine.

She’d tipped an extra glass into the bolognese in the hope of adding flavour and ended up with something alcoholic enough to take the roof off an unsuspecting diner’s mouth.

The addition of yoghurt to calm it down hadn’t helped much, either.

She did a double take when she opened the front door, because Hal was standing in the lobby.

‘Waiting for someone?’ she said casually, still hurt by his latest withdrawal.

‘You,’ he said. ‘I smelled your cooking and thought I’d better ask if you needed any help. I don’t want you killing your date and blaming me.’

Hmm. Honey toyed with refusing his help out of pique, but the bolognese really wasn’t good and he was her only hope of rescuing it.

‘Go on then, you can come in for ten minutes,’ she grumped, letting him know he was still in her bad books. ‘I’ve ballsed it up somehow and I can’t work out what to do.’

Hal followed her into her flat, sniffing the air. ‘It doesn’t smell too bad,’ he offered, and Honey knew enough to realise that was as much of an olive branch as he was likely to offer.

‘Yeah, well. Wait until you taste it.’ She took the lid from the saucepan, spooned a little into a dish, and handed it to Hal. She watched him bring the bowl close to inhale the smell, and then dip the spoon in and test it with a grimace.

‘You haven’t put any salt in,’ he said. ‘No wonder it’s weird.’

‘Salt. Of course,’ Honey said, feeling stupid for missing the most basic of things.

‘Give it a good season and cook it through for another hour or so to really soften the meat and cook off the alcohol. Have you added extra wine?’

Honey flicked the gas on beneath the pan and added salt.

‘Yup. It didn’t help.’

‘No shit.’

‘Nope.’

Silence reigned. As churlish as it was, she didn’t feel like making it easy for him.

‘So, the big date with Robin’s still on then,’ he said, placing the bowl with the failed bolognese carefully on the work surface.

‘Can’t wait,’ Honey clipped.

‘I’ll go then, leave you to beautify.’

‘You do that. And there’s no need to wait up for me tonight, okay?’ she said, and then wished she hadn’t because he was actually trying for once.

‘Just don’t burn the bacon in the morning if he stays over,’ Hal said, already moving towards the door. ‘Knock on my door if you need a condom.’

Honey pulled a face at his back. ‘I’m sure Robin will carry his own protection, should he need it. Which he won’t.’

Hal laughed, and Honey wished he’d turn so she could see his smile.

‘The man still lives with his mother,’ he said. ‘He won’t carry condoms.’

‘Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, because I’m a modern woman. I’ve got my own supply in the bathroom cupboard,’ Honey said, annoyed again, and she followed him down the hall and banged her door shut behind him.

There was a tap on her door a couple of hours later, and Honey knew straight away that it wasn’t Hal because it was quiet and polite, both traits her neighbour didn’t possess.

Well, that was hurdle one jumped – Robin had actually turned up.

Honey had swung between mild excitement in case he was wonderful and hoping he didn’t bother to come at all, and she checked her reflection quickly in the hallway mirror as she went to let him in.

She’d made an effort; her blonde waves hung loose around her careful no-make-up-look made-up face, and she was wearing her favourite vintage tea dress and high heels.

The dress cinched her waist and gave her a cleavage, and the heels gave her confidence and height in case he was another tall guy.

Taking a deep breath and opening the door, she immediately wished she’d opted for barefoot, because Robin only came up to her shoulder.

Aside from being vertically challenged, Nell had been quite right about his hair being a feature. There was just so much of it, and it seemed to grow in all directions in Leo Sayer-style curls.

He thrust a bunch of flowers at her and grinned.

‘You must be Honeysuckle. Fabulous name, darling!’

Honey accepted the flowers, noticing that they were actually gorgeous, awarding him extra points because they included honeysuckle, which wasn’t an easy thing to pull off in a bouquet.

She smiled and swung the door wide for him to come in, hurriedly kicking off her shoes and flicking them into her bedroom as she followed him along the hallway.

That was better. They were pretty much the same height now; all wasn’t lost, although that hair was going to take some getting used to.

‘And you must be Robin,’ she said, waving for him to sit down on the sofa as she dug out a vase for the flowers. ‘Nell tells me you teach music.’

He nodded, and his hair seemed to move independently of his head.

‘Love it,’ he said. ‘Music is in my bones.’ He flung his arms wide and burst into the opening lines of Abba’s ‘Thank you for the Music’, complete with jazz hands.

A huge belly laugh erupted from him as he finished, and Honey found herself relaxing and started to laugh with him.

Robin was a funny guy. Maybe this was going to be a good evening after all.

‘I hope you’re not vegetarian, I made bolognese,’ she said, and he rubbed his round tummy beneath the straining wool of his pullover.

‘It’s my absolute favourite,’ he declared. ‘Besides chicken madras. And lasagne. And my mother’s lime cheesecake.’ He wagged his finger at her like a guest on Jerry Springer. ‘Don’t you judge me,’ he drawled in a dead-on Deep South accent, and then that sunshine laughter erupted from him again.

‘Well?’ she said a few minutes later, having watched him theatrically twirl his fork into the heaped plate of spaghetti she’d placed in front of him and then close his eyes while he savoured his first mouthful.

His eyes pinged wide open again in shock. ‘Should I just give up and join Alcoholics Anonymous now, my darling?’ He put his cutlery down and clutched at his throat, laughing, and then flapped his hands for her to sit back down when she reached for the water jug.

‘It’s fine, it’s fine. I like a woman who’s serious about her drink.’

He wiped at his eyes, and Honey was unsure if he was damp eyed from laughing or because of the food.

Testing it gingerly herself, she suspected the latter.

How could it have turned out so perfectly when Hal had been around and so badly without him?

Even the addition of salt hadn’t managed to rescue it.

‘I’m sorry, Robin. I’m not sure what went wrong,’ she said, poking half-heartedly at her dinner.

‘I think you’re supposed to add meat to the wine,’ he said dryly, gamely scooping up another mouthful. ‘It’s really not that bad once you get going.’ He waved his fork towards her plate. ‘Eat up. We’ll be drunk as lords in no time and I’ll be able to have my wicked way with you.’

Honey giggled and did as he’d suggested, sensing from the twinkle in his merry eyes that Robin’s wicked way was more likely to involve belting out Kylie hits on karaoke than kinky sex.

Nell must have known that Robin was never going to be Honey’s type in the romantic sense, yet still the evening turned out to be one of the best she could remember in quite some time. As she cleared away their dessert plates, Honey quizzed him more on his piano skills.

‘By rights I shouldn’t really be able to play the piano with these sausage fingers, but I can.

I get it from my mother. She’s as round as a watermelon and yet she plays the piano like a light-fingered woodland nymph.

It’s the same with dancing – we’re both as light as feathers on our toes.

’ He lifted his foot and circled it in Honey’s direction, revealing rainbow-striped socks.

‘You haven’t seen anyone line dance until you’ve seen me line dance. ’

‘You’ll have to teach me one day,’ Honey laughed.

Robin looked serious for the first time that evening.

‘Cards on the table, Honeysuckle. You’re a wonderful girl but you’re just not my type at all, my love. I prefer my dates to be over six foot with an Adam’s apple, but if it’s any consolation you do cook a striking bolognese.’

Honey stared at him, round eyed. ‘Well … in the interests of complete honesty, you’re not my type either, Robin. I prefer my evil twisted neighbour who habitually ignores me and then occasionally flirts with me to keep me dangling on a string.’

Robin’s bushy eyebrows moved up into his equally bushy hair.

‘Tell me everything, darling, he sounds divine!’

And so she did, and Robin topped up her glass every time she reached the bottom of it and then offered to nip across the hall and punch Hal on the nose. ‘If I can reach it,’ he added, making Honey laugh for the hundredth time that evening.

‘Now. Enough maudlin, Jolene. Shall we line dance?’

He jumped up out of his chair and dragged the coffee table to the side of the room.

‘I don’t think I have the right music,’ Honey giggled, three sheets to the wind from the way he’d constantly refilled her glass.

‘Don’t worry about that. I’ll sing,’ Robin said, gesturing impatiently for her to stand alongside him on the rug. ‘You here.’

And so they line danced, and they laughed until Honey collapsed on the sofa with mildly hysterical tears rolling down her cheeks.

‘I give up. I’ll never be Dolly Parton,’ she said, her arm flung dramatically across her brow.

‘Probably for the best. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone worse at it, and I teach a class of ex-offenders at the community centre on a Thursday night.’

Honey laid a hand over her heart. ‘Leave. You’ve wounded me.’

Robin checked his watch and then leaned down and kissed her hand with a flourish.

‘Actually, I should bid you goodnight. It’s almost midnight; I might turn into a pumpkin if I stay beyond the witching hour. Or my mother might put the deadbolt on. One of those things will definitely happen.’

‘I like pumpkins,’ Honey said, as Robin pulled her to her feet by both hands.

‘Fabulous in a pie,’ he nodded, shrugging into his jacket as they made their unsteady way along the hallway.

‘Or soup on bonfire night,’ she muttered, leaning on the wall for support as he opened the door and blew her a theatrical volley of kisses.

‘I won’t kiss you on the mouth, darling. It would ruin you for other men.’

Honey nodded and blew him kisses with both hands in return.

Robin glanced cheekily at Hal’s door. ‘Shall I knock and offer to teach him to line dance?’

Honey shook her head. ‘I don’t think he’s a dancing kind of guy. At least not these days.’

‘There isn’t a person in this world who doesn’t like to shake their tush to a bit of Dolly, given the right circumstances,’ Robin insisted. ‘Get him dancing, Honeysuckle, and you’ll find your way behind that wall of his. I guarantee it.’ He tapped the side of his nose. ‘Trust your uncle Robin.’

‘That’s just creepy,’ she laughed, then clapped softly as he pirouetted across the hall tiles and let himself out of the front door.

She looked at Hal’s door for a long minute after Robin had left.

There was no way she’d ever get him dancing, but maybe Robin had been onto something anyway.

There was very little in the way of lightheartedness or laughter in Hal’s life, and he had the most beautiful smile on the rare occasions he let her see it.

Maybe that was a way in with him. Something to think about, anyway.

Tomorrow morning she’d call Nell up and thank her. She might not have found Honey her perfect man, but she’d certainly given her a night to remember.