Plastics, or
something. He’s an MBE.’
‘Ah,’ said Dad, the tone of his voice changing from concerned to proud. ‘John Evans. I know him. Very important man, gives a lot to charity. You know, Martha – he belongs
to the Rotary club.’
Mum nodded, with disinterest. I had no doubt that she would rather hear about Danny’s music.
‘Well, well,’ said Dad. ‘So you’re going out with John Evans’s son.’
I didn’t feel I should tell him that Danny didn’t like his father – appeared to hate him even.
‘So when do we get to meet this Danny, then?’
‘Leave her alone, David,’ Mum said, in the same voice she used to tell me and Emily off. ‘She’s only been on one date. I’m sure she’ll let us meet him when
she’s ready.’
‘Sure,’ I said, already dreading that day. ‘I don’t want to scare him off. Maybe in a few weeks.’
Unlike Dad, Mum knew it was time for the cross-examination to end. ‘Naomi, your dad and I are going into town to do some shopping. You’re welcome to join us.’
‘No thanks,’ I said. ‘I’ve got a few things to do myself.’
I had nothing to do, of course – just an afternoon to fill while I waited for Danny to text me about tomorrow’s date. When my parents had left I went back up to my bedroom and tidied
away my clothes. It took no time at all. After that, I decided to call Debbie, to tell her how the date had gone. I was a little disappointed that she hadn’t called me first. I’d rung
and told her how much I liked Danny and she knew it was my first date for many months. Wasn’t she interested? I hoped that wasn’t the case.
I couldn’t find my phone and panicked, momentarily, until I remembered I’d left it in my coat pocket. The coat – which Danny had so admired – was hanging over the
banister at the bottom of the stairs.
It is a beautiful coat
, I thought, stroking the collar, just as he had done. I was sure I could still make out the faint smell of his aftershave, or was
that just dry-cleaning fluid?
I took out my phone and saw that it was switched off, just as Emily had said. I couldn’t remember doing that. As soon as I switched it on it bleeped and shuddered violently; I had twenty
missed calls and four messages – all from Emily. It was nice that she had been so concerned and, for the second time, I felt guilty that I hadn’t called her. I played each message
through before deleting it. Emily had started off with a cool, ‘Hi, Nay, hope you’re enjoying your date,’ (giggle). ‘Let me know who’s in Yellow tonight’;
progressing to a concerned, ‘Are you all right, Nay? Please give me a call’; to ‘Naomi – call me!’. Her last message was, ‘I’m hoping you’re OK,
Naomi. I’m going to wait up for you.’
Debbie hadn’t called once.
The phone rang about six times before Debbie picked up.
‘Hi, Naomi,’ she said. ‘I was going to call you this afternoon. What are you up to?’
‘Nothing much,’ I said, annoyed that she appeared to have forgotten about my date. ‘What about you?’
‘I’ve got an essay to write. I should have done it last week, but you know what it’s like.’
‘What’s it on?’ I asked. I didn’t care a jot, but it seemed the polite question.
‘Something to do with the causes of the First World War. Pretty dull stuff. I’m hoping to get it done today because a group of us are going to head out on a trip tomorrow. Mike, the
guy I told you about who lives in my halls, is driving us.’
‘That’s nice,’ I said. I no longer felt like telling her about Danny and I wanted the conversation to be over as quickly as possible.
‘So what’s been happening with you? Oh yes, have you gone out with that guy yet?’
So she did remember.
‘Yes, it was last night.’
‘And?’
‘And it was great. We had a really good time and I’m seeing him again tomorrow.’ I left out all the detail because I could tell she didn’t have time to hear it. The
evening deserved to
something. He’s an MBE.’
‘Ah,’ said Dad, the tone of his voice changing from concerned to proud. ‘John Evans. I know him. Very important man, gives a lot to charity. You know, Martha – he belongs
to the Rotary club.’
Mum nodded, with disinterest. I had no doubt that she would rather hear about Danny’s music.
‘Well, well,’ said Dad. ‘So you’re going out with John Evans’s son.’
I didn’t feel I should tell him that Danny didn’t like his father – appeared to hate him even.
‘So when do we get to meet this Danny, then?’
‘Leave her alone, David,’ Mum said, in the same voice she used to tell me and Emily off. ‘She’s only been on one date. I’m sure she’ll let us meet him when
she’s ready.’
‘Sure,’ I said, already dreading that day. ‘I don’t want to scare him off. Maybe in a few weeks.’
Unlike Dad, Mum knew it was time for the cross-examination to end. ‘Naomi, your dad and I are going into town to do some shopping. You’re welcome to join us.’
‘No thanks,’ I said. ‘I’ve got a few things to do myself.’
I had nothing to do, of course – just an afternoon to fill while I waited for Danny to text me about tomorrow’s date. When my parents had left I went back up to my bedroom and tidied
away my clothes. It took no time at all. After that, I decided to call Debbie, to tell her how the date had gone. I was a little disappointed that she hadn’t called me first. I’d rung
and told her how much I liked Danny and she knew it was my first date for many months. Wasn’t she interested? I hoped that wasn’t the case.
I couldn’t find my phone and panicked, momentarily, until I remembered I’d left it in my coat pocket. The coat – which Danny had so admired – was hanging over the
banister at the bottom of the stairs.
It is a beautiful coat
, I thought, stroking the collar, just as he had done. I was sure I could still make out the faint smell of his aftershave, or was
that just dry-cleaning fluid?
I took out my phone and saw that it was switched off, just as Emily had said. I couldn’t remember doing that. As soon as I switched it on it bleeped and shuddered violently; I had twenty
missed calls and four messages – all from Emily. It was nice that she had been so concerned and, for the second time, I felt guilty that I hadn’t called her. I played each message
through before deleting it. Emily had started off with a cool, ‘Hi, Nay, hope you’re enjoying your date,’ (giggle). ‘Let me know who’s in Yellow tonight’;
progressing to a concerned, ‘Are you all right, Nay? Please give me a call’; to ‘Naomi – call me!’. Her last message was, ‘I’m hoping you’re OK,
Naomi. I’m going to wait up for you.’
Debbie hadn’t called once.
The phone rang about six times before Debbie picked up.
‘Hi, Naomi,’ she said. ‘I was going to call you this afternoon. What are you up to?’
‘Nothing much,’ I said, annoyed that she appeared to have forgotten about my date. ‘What about you?’
‘I’ve got an essay to write. I should have done it last week, but you know what it’s like.’
‘What’s it on?’ I asked. I didn’t care a jot, but it seemed the polite question.
‘Something to do with the causes of the First World War. Pretty dull stuff. I’m hoping to get it done today because a group of us are going to head out on a trip tomorrow. Mike, the
guy I told you about who lives in my halls, is driving us.’
‘That’s nice,’ I said. I no longer felt like telling her about Danny and I wanted the conversation to be over as quickly as possible.
‘So what’s been happening with you? Oh yes, have you gone out with that guy yet?’
So she did remember.
‘Yes, it was last night.’
‘And?’
‘And it was great. We had a really good time and I’m seeing him again tomorrow.’ I left out all the detail because I could tell she didn’t have time to hear it. The
evening deserved to
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