him and find out. It’s my fault. I need to give him time.’ Amy scooted across the sofa.
‘Oh, love, why didn’t you say anything?’ she said, looking upset herself.
I sniffed and wiped my eyes. ‘Um, hello? Because I had managed to completely screw up our friendship as well. I have been on full self-destruct mode for months now. I totally deserve it, honestly, Amy. I just spent so much time moaning at the poor guy and taking out all my frustrations on him.’
Amy held my hand. ‘But we all do that. I know Will has to put up with me biting his head off after a long day of some shitty teenager being shitty.’
‘But not every day,’ I said, refusing to be cheered.
‘Luke gets it. He knows you love him. You guys are so strong. I don’t know a better couple.’
This only tipped me over the edge more. We had been a great couple. Luke was my best friend, we had travelled together, lived together, laughed all the time. I wondered when that had ended, when had I started to take it all for granted?
‘So,’ Amy said, business voice on, ‘how are you going to fix this?’
‘What if I can’t fix—’
Amy held up a hand. ‘Of course you can,’ she said in the voice that I knew to be her no-nonsense voice. I needed that voice. I needed someone to give me strength. ‘Right, I think I have an idea. You have got some work to do, woman.’
I looked at her, hope flooding my face. ‘I’ll do anything,’ I said.
Amy grinned at me, lifting up her wine and raising it at me. ‘Excellent.’
Chapter 28
Love is your wife offering to do the drive home after a boozy lunch
ARNOLD, 81
Amy left just after midnight and for the first time in ages I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep and woke the next day feeling refreshed. Even the hangover didn’t affect me as I stepped into the shower, feeling a renewed buzz. Relief that Amy had forgiven me coursed through me and I was now determined to fix other things in my life, to make things right again. I phoned Grandad.
He told me he would meet me there and I dressed quickly for the occasion, not absolutely sure of the right attire. Gym wear coupled with thick knee-length socks and a peaked cap seemed about right. I wasn’t sure if there were rules at the driving range but I knew golf was one of those sports where you had to look a bit strange to play. I think I’d nailed that look nicely.
The moment I parked I realised my mistake as Grandad was waiting for me outside, his golf clubs propped up next to him, looking 100 per cent normal. He gave me a brief hug and didn’t comment on the sock-hat-leggings combo, and I was grateful.
‘So, thanks for meeting me here,’ I said, feeling strangely nervous.
‘Of course, you know I love the range.’
‘I thought it was about time I learnt.’
Grandad couldn’t disguise the glow as I said the words. I had never shown any interest in golf before.
‘And now they’re going to let women join . . . ’
‘Don’t let Howard hear you. Right’ – he rubbed his hands together – ‘let’s get you set up.’
I followed him inside and we paused at a big steel box where Grandad leant down to pick up a small wire basket. ‘We stick it under here,’ he said, popping the basket in a large hole and inserting pound coins into the slot machine. The thud and rattle made me jump and suddenly the basket was filling with a thousand golf balls. ‘Right,’ Grandad said, lifting the now-full basket and moving down a thin corridor. To our left people were standing on small squares of green artificial grass, striking balls off the square out into the field beyond. Numbers on distant markers announced the distance they’d travelled and every now and again the air was filled with the swish of a club and the loud tink when someone connected with their ball.
‘We can take the two booths at the end,’ he said, pouring half of the balls into a separate basket. ‘You take these and I’ll lend you an iron.’
I knew enough about golf to understand this referred to one of his clubs. I couldn’t identify which one but that was what this lesson was for.
‘Why don’t I show you the rough idea and you just have a crack at it?’
‘Great,’ I said, happy to be