to the light, ‘this is quite an exceptional piece.’ He jokes in the voice of a posh antiques dealer, which makes me laugh. ‘Yes, a fine specimen from the seventeenth century… the Ming Dynasty perhaps?’
‘Mmm, I was thinking it’s more the mini Sainsbury’s dynasty – the Beech Road area, circa earlier tonight?’ I join in.
Without taking his eyes off mine, he slowly begins to twist the Father Christmas head.
‘What are you doing?’ I ask, surprised.
‘I’m opening them.’
‘They’re for Harry,’ I say, aware I sound rather childish.
‘I know,’ he answers, continuing to twist, still not taking his eyes from mine.
‘Don’t open them, Alex, I’m warning you…’ I say, joking, but wishing he’d take the hint and put them back in the carrier bag. ‘I’m going to give them to him tomorrow.’ Alex twists once more. ‘He likes… Smarties,’ I say desperately, as he twists harder and pulls the lid off the tub.
‘So do I.’ He throws his head back and pours the brightly coloured chocolate sweets into his mouth.
‘Alex!’ I gasp, surprised and a little pissed off. I wasn’t comfortable with him taking them from my carrier bag, but to open and eat them feels like something more. ‘I can’t believe you’d do that.’ I try not to sound angry, but I am.
‘And I can’t believe you’d buy gifts for other men,’ he says, smiling through a mouth bulging with Smarties. Then he seems to realise, probably from the look on my face, that I’m not happy. ‘Sorry. I was only teasing,’ he says, putting the lid back on.
‘Yeah I know but I’ll have to buy another box now.’
He moves towards me, his arms open, and a rather awkward hug suddenly turns into an embrace and, before I know it, we’re kissing and I’ve almost forgiven him.
‘Sorry,’ he murmurs in my ear, his warm breath making me shiver. ‘I thought it would make you laugh, it was silly.’
‘No, it’s fine, I overreacted, it’s a box of sweets, it really doesn’t matter, just don’t do it again,’ I say with a mock frown, and look at him like a teacher letting a cheeky kid know they’ve been spotted.
We kiss again, and I tell myself it doesn’t matter, it was nothing, he did it in fun, and I can easily buy some more.
Later, we sip coffee together on the sofa, and he asks me about my past relationships. ‘So, I told you all about me, and my tragic history with women, what about you?’ he asks.
‘I’m not sure you did tell me all about you,’ I say. It still feels very sketchy. ‘I know you broke up with your girlfriend last year, but you never even told me her name.’
‘Does it matter?’ he says softly, gazing into my eyes and twisting a lock of my hair around his finger.
‘No, I don’t suppose so – but it’s pretty basic.’
‘Helen – her name was Helen. I met her through work. She’s a lawyer, a good one, far brighter than me.’
‘Do you keep in touch?’ I ask.
He shakes his head vigorously, and takes a sip of coffee before answering. ‘No, not at all.’ He takes a breath. ‘So, enough of the Spanish Inquisition – let me interrogate you now. How long have you been single?’
‘About the same as you, twelve months,’ I say vaguely.
‘Why did you split?’
‘I just realised he wasn’t what I was looking for. My fault, we were together for two years – I should have realised sooner. Jas says I kept it going for too long, but it’s hard to break up with someone when technically they haven’t done anything wrong.’ I don’t point out that Tom hardly did anything right either, it feels disloyal.
‘What you’re saying about him is what Helen said about me – at the end.’ He looks at me with such sadness in his eyes, I feel that pang of guilt again. I’m even taking it on for bloody Helen now – is there no end to my capacity for self-flagellation?
‘Tom and I weren’t right from the beginning, we had nothing in common. I felt more alone with him than without him, it’s just how it was. But the longer I let it run, the harder it was to end it. He wanted me to tell him why, but it was hard to vocalise. He said it hurt to think I just didn’t love him, that there was no actual reason. His reaction surprised me – I didn’t think he’d be that bothered, but he was so upset he