Page 48 of The Woman Who Said Yes

Sam is certain that there must have been a message in there somewhere. That it’ll have been a metaphor for something he’s neither clever nor cultured enough to have understood. However, as he and Lucy emerge from the independent art deco cinema into the bright and sunny afternoon, he doesn’t have a clue what it was. Only that the solitary breakfast frying made him wonder if he was in fact seeing his future self on screen, in his future dressing gown, cooking for one with Theo having long moved out.

As Sam and Lucy make their way along the pleasant tree-lined street, it strikes him that the thought of Theo never moving out, and still living with him at forty-seven, is even more disconcerting. It’s not that he’d ever want him to move to Thailand to be with his mum. No – that would be terrible. However, he does hope that at some point in the next few years, Theo will start to form a plan of what it is that he wants to do, and show a bit of ambition. He is feeling particularly ill-disposed towards his son since this morning when, as he poured their coffees, Sam caught him doing something that shocked him to the very core.

Thinking his dad wasn’t watching, Theo had given the actual finger to the radio.

Whether it was directed at the presenter or the radio itself – i.e. a small, inoffensive appliance purchased from John Lewis – Sam has no idea. It certainly seemed uncalled for and was definitely unprovoked. If he hadn’t been so taken aback, he’d have asked Theo to explain himself. So it was a relief to be getting out of the flat. Sam hasn’t yet mentioned Lucy to Theo because, really, there is nothing to tell.

Lucy suggests coffee and as Sam glances up at the wash of blue sky above, his spirits lift. Maybe this is what he’s needed, he reflects as they step into a café with brightly painted tables and bag one at the window. It might not turn into anything more, but isn’t it good to be open to things? To have, if not a relationship, then the beginnings of a new friendship? He’s sure Andie and Eva would agree about that.

They discuss the film, and Lucy – who chose it – espouses what sounds like a feasible theory on what it was all about, what it represented, and what it was saying about the disconnection of humans and the general state of society today. In full agreement with all that, Sam is hoping that Lucy won’t ask him to share any observations of his own. Because he doesn’t have any – apart from the egg-frying parts being so visceral, he was surprised to note that he didn’t stink of fat as they left the cinema.

Having come to the end of her theorising, Lucy seems to catch herself. ‘Sorry, I’m really going on, aren’t I?’

‘Not at all,’ Sam assures her.

Lucy smiles. ‘Anyway, tell me what you’ve got coming up.’

Sam thinks for a moment, hesitating to mention his friend’s wedding as he doesn’t want to get into it all, really. Yet these days it’s ever-present, occupying a significant proportion of his brain space, along with Theo’s rudeness and a further squirrel painting of tricky dimensions, and so he sketches out the bare bones of the situation.

‘Her first marriage, is it?’ Lucy asks.

‘Yeah, it is – at sixty.’

‘Wow! Well, good luck to her. So, what made her decide to do it now?’ Sam knows that Lucy has little time for the institution of marriage. Apparently, as a therapist, she has observed at close quarters how it ‘doesn’t work well for women generally’, and she has told him that she can’t imagine living with anyone ever again. Yet she seems intrigued as Sam describes the speed of the thing; the cruise, the sudden wedding announcement, and how he and Andie – ‘You met her at my shop?’ he reminds her – have been drawn into conducting a little inexpert snooping.

‘And what have you found?’ Lucy’s eyes widen.

Figuring that she might find it too weird, he decides not to mention the Boggis Road toilet pipe, or the frustrated tenant they had encountered there. Instead, he describes Dom’s look of alarm at those missed calls in the restaurant, and how Andie had taken a photo of the mysterious ‘G’ in Dom’s contacts.

He shows Lucy the picture on his phone. ‘He could’ve walked back in at any moment,’ he says, still a little shocked by Andie’s boldness.

‘So, what’re you planning to do with this?’ she asks.

‘I’m not really sure.’ He shrugs, sensing his cheeks reddening. After Lucy’s analysis of that incomprehensible film, this all seems rather silly and juvenile.

‘Aren’t you going to call it?’

Sam looks at her incredulously. ‘Call it?’

She laughs, tossing back her glossy dark hair that swings at her chin. ‘Well, yes! Why not?’

‘It’ll display my number,’ he says.

Lucy shrugs. ‘So what? You can withhold it if you like. But I don’t see that it matters…’

‘No, I don’t suppose it does.’ Sam is reluctant to admit that he doesn’t know how to withhold his number. ‘But what would I say, if I called it?’

‘God, Sam,’ she retorts, as if he had asked for instructions on how to purchase an item in a supermarket. ‘You wouldn’t have to say anything.’

He stirs his coffee unnecessarily and considers this. ‘But they might think I’m a silent caller, one of those perverts⁠—’

‘Well, are you?’ she asks with a wry grin.

He laughs, not quite knowing how to respond to that, because he’s also not sure where this thing with Lucy is going. That first evening, after her exhibition opening, had ended with a friendly hug. That second time, after the Lebanese meal and pub, she’d kissed him on the mouth. Yet he still can’t quite believe that she’s interested in him. Now, though, Lucy seems in no particular hurry to rush away, even when their coffees are finished. ‘I’ll call it on my phone,’ she announces.

‘What? That G person?’ Sam blurts out. ‘But then they’ll have your number!’

‘So what?’ Another exaggerated shrug. ‘Let me see it.’