Things I Want My Daughters to Know_ A Novel - Elizabeth Noble [149]
“I mean, if you’re not, then some other time…”
Mark felt like a gawky teenager. Which he hadn’t even been.
“No…no…tomorrow is fine. Midday, you say?”
“Yeah. Around twelve.”
“I’ll be here.” At least she hadn’t said she’d leave it on the front porch.
“I wondered…if you weren’t doing anything…if you wanted to, I mean…” Spit it out, for God’s sake, you moron. Ask her. “If you would like to have lunch. It’s supposed to be nice. We could go for a drive. Find a country pub, with a garden. Something like that. If you wanted to.”
Again, Jane hesitated.
“I don’t know, Mark. I’m not sure it’s such a good idea, you know?” So she had no plans, but no plans and a ham sandwich in the kitchen alone was better than lunch with him.
He felt his cheeks burn. “No problem. Thought it was worth asking….”
The silence was practically solid. Mark had no idea how to end this conversation.
“Lunch, you say?”
“Yes, just lunch. I just thought it might be nice….”
“Okay.” She sounded more decisive than he did. “Lunch. Thank you.”
“Thank you, Jane.”
By the time he hung up Mark had actual beads of sweat in his hairline. Cool, he told himself, very cool.
The next day, at 12:05 P.M., she opened the door ready to leave, almost as soon as he knocked, with a handbag over her arm, and his abandoned T-shirt in her hand. She seemed much more nervous than she had on their first date, and she pulled the door closed quickly behind her.
He bent to kiss her on the cheek. The kiss missed its mark and landed awkwardly near her ear.
“It’s nice to see you.”
“Nice to see you, too.”
He’d really done a number on her, hadn’t he? Mark felt guiltier than ever and wondered if it had been such a good idea, calling her again. It wasn’t like he had a plan of action. Maybe it wasn’t fair.
He opened her door for her, and Jane climbed into the car. She looked pretty again. She was one of those women who could dress young without looking daft. She was wearing a white dress with a high waistline, trimmed with broderie anglaise, and a short, pale yellow cardigan.
They talked about the weather for a couple of minutes. About the girls and their exams. Jane kept her handbag in her lap, gripping it more tightly than was necessary. Mark concentrated on the road, although there was little traffic. Then they stopped talking, and Mark wondered whether he should put the radio on.
“Why did you call me again?”
“I’m sorry?”
“I was just wondering. Why you called me again. After all this time. I mean, it seemed to be such a disaster last time, I just wondered why you would want to see me again.”
“A disaster?”
“Well, not for me, no. It was the way you left. The way you sounded when I called you about the shirt. I just thought you wished…”
“That it hadn’t happened?”
“Yes—that it hadn’t happened. And then, at school, I just had the feeling you were avoiding me. And so I didn’t expect to hear from you again.”
They’d pulled into the pub’s graveled car park now. Mark parked in one of the empty bays and turned the ignition off. Then he shifted around in his seat to look at Jane. Her chest was red and blotchy with the effort of speaking about it.
“I’m sorry. What a prat.”
“You’re not a prat, Mark. You just went too fast, I think…. We went too fast.”
“I think so, too. I felt like crap afterward. Like I’d taken advantage of you.”
“Hardly.”
“That’s how I felt. It’s like that evening was in two parts. The dinner part—that, I was ready for. I enjoyed being with you, talking to you. I felt better than I had in ages.”
“Me, too.”
“But what happened back at the house? I wasn’t ready for that. It wasn’t fair.”
“I know.”
“So I skulked off. I’m so sorry if you thought it was something to do with you. It truly wasn’t. It was me. I know that sounds like the biggest line in the book, but it really was.”
She smiled faintly.
“You were lovely. You were beautiful and sexy and great. Honestly. You were. I just wasn’t ready…to be with someone in that