“That was a one-off—not at all indicative of our usual run of events.”
“I get the impression it’s really a women-only affair.”
“You’re probably right. There’s lots of feminist talk and bra burning. Once a month we sacrifice a man to Hecate under a blood moon.”
John nodded sagely. “I thought as much,” he said.
“Was your dad a big reader?”
“Yes. Or at least, I think I remember him reading a lot, but that could be my memory adding embellishments.”
“How old were you when he left?”
“I was about nine. You know those stories about men who go out one day saying they’re going to buy a packet of cigarettes and never return?”
“Yes.” Annie laughed.
“That was my dad.”
Annie straightened her face. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. He told us he was going to the off-license to get a packet of fags and a pint of milk and he never came back.”
“Oh my God! Did you ever find out where he went?”
“Oh yeah, he had a whole other family in the next town.”
“What!”
“Yep. I shit you not. Some of his other kids were even the same age as my siblings. He’d been leading a double life for nearly ten years, and then one day he obviously picked a favorite. And that was the end of that.”
“What did your mum do?”
“She waited for him to come home and she bore the shame.”
“She bore the shame?” Annie asked incredulously. “What about his shame?”
“I don’t think he had any.”
“Did you ever see him again?”
“He turned up at my mum’s funeral. My brother punched him in the face; I didn’t intervene.” His face darkened, but then he checked himself and smiled. “My sister found herself on a double date once with her half sister. That was an interesting evening!”
“Oh my God!” Annie laughed. “I’m sorry, I know it’s not funny, but it’s the kind of stuff you read about in women’s magazines. I mean, can you imagine? Well, I suppose you don’t have to. How awful for your sister. Did they stay in touch?”
“As a matter of fact, they did. They’re godparents to one another’s children.”
“Your family makes my family seem terribly dull.”
“I’d have taken dull. I’ve spent my adult life trying to make Celeste’s home life as uneventful as possible.”
“Ah well, now there we are similar. I classically stayed in a bad marriage to ensure that my children didn’t come from a broken home.”
“How admirable of you,” said John insincerely.
“Wasn’t it? After all my years of faking happiness, I have recently discovered that my kids knew exactly what was going on and grew up knowing that their dad screwed around and their mum put up with it. What a fabulous advertisement I am for feminism.”
“I think you’re being too hard on yourself. We’re all just trying not to fuck up our kids in our own way.”
“I worry that by trying not to fuck them up I might have fucked them up more,” said Annie.
“I think your boys have got a lot to be proud of.”
“Do you? That’s very nice of you to say so.”
“I’m a nice guy.”
“I’m starting to believe it.”
“What would convince you?”
“If you let me buy Saltwater Nook.”
* * *
—
They started the meal with a sharing platter of black bean nachos, the fiery chili quelled by a cooling guacamole with fresh coriander and the richness of the cheese cut through by a sweet tomato salsa. John was interested in Annie’s take on the food and fascinated by how she could identify single ingredients from the impossible jumble before them.
The jug of sangria they shared was as potent as it was fruity, the addition of cinnamon and brandy lending itself to the cold November night.
“I thought you didn’t drink,” said Annie.
“I don’t drink often—Christmas and birthdays usually—but I’ll make an exception tonight.”
“I wouldn’t want to lead you astray,” Annie remarked, tongue in cheek.
“What a pity,” said John, staring at her in a way that made her want to flash her boobs at him.
By the time their main courses arrived—fish tacos for Annie and beef enchiladas for John—the conversation had moved on to John’s various brushes with the law before he found peace in his career and then fatherhood. Annie was feeling warm and relaxed, and like she might tell John all her deepest secrets.