‘I don’t have a licence. I walked here.’ I surprise myself by letting out a little laugh. ‘I didn’t realise it had got so late.’
‘If it weren’t for all the boxes taking up the space, we should have thought about camping out. I’d give you a lift, but I can only offer a backie on my bike. My dad dropped the boxes off, but he’s out for dinner this evening so no chance of a lift back.’
‘Don’t worry, I want to get home. I know Lucy wanted rest today, but I’m hoping to see her in the morning at least.’
‘Of course. Well, let me walk you home.’
It wasn’t a short walk, but I wasn’t going to give up the offer of an escort. Otherwise it would be a taxi and Southampton prices are so ludicrous I only ever use them if it’s an absolute necessity.
We’re over a mile into the trip back without having spoken. It’s strange that I’ve managed brief conversations about Clive’s things throughout the day, but now I’m suddenly completely stuck on what to say. There are a multitude of questions on the tip of my tongue, so many things I want to know. I should tell him about the photo, but I find myself wanting to know about him. I want to know the places he’s travelled and about the people he’s helped by volunteering. In the end I only manage to stumble out the thing that intrigues me the most.
‘What made you come home from your travels?’
‘Time and roots.’
I throw him a perplexed look. ‘I take it you don’t mean your hair roots?’
George laughs and I marvel at how, for all my nerves, I’m beginning to feel at ease with this man.
‘No, roots as in I needed to establish myself somewhere. I’d been away for too long. What was going to be a jaunt turned into five years. Then my mum was poorly for a while and I felt too far away. I knew it was time to come home.’
‘I’m sorry your mum was unwell.’ I stop at saying anything about my parents. He doesn’t need to know my mum passed away when I was a baby or any of the tragedy surrounding my dad.
‘The good news is she got better, but once I was home I knew I wanted to stay. Not with my parents forever, mind. I’m saving up to try and get my own place. What about you? Will you always live with Lucy?’
‘As long as she’ll have me.’ I laugh, knowing we should have cut the apron strings years ago, but as we haven’t, we’re likely to remain that way for as long as we can.
When we’re near to approaching home, George takes off down the hill on his bike. So much for chivalry. When he’s out of sight, I begin to feel guilty for all of the dates I’ve walked out on. Maybe this is how it feels… like their stomach has been taken out from underneath them.
Not that it worries me… Walking home solo doesn’t scare me. I’ve done self-defence classes and I’ll take a bet on being capable of weirding out the worst of weirdos given the right circumstances.
As I think about such possibilities, George is back, macho-wheeling his way up the hill. Definitely showing off. Perhaps it’s some strange alpha-male display. The hill is at quite a gradient and it requires a good level of athleticism to not fall off. Still, even if it is what he was attempting to demonstrate, I’m not going to fall for that. Am I? My stomach feels like it’s made of marshmallow with its response to everything that is going on.
He comes to a halt when he reaches my feet as if he is testing whether I’ll jump.
‘What was that all about?’ I have to ask.
‘Dinner,’ George says, as he hops off his bike and produces an open cone of chips at the same time. ‘I thought we should probably eat.’
As soon as I taste a hot, salty chip, my theory about George being odd switches to me concluding that he is an absolute genius. For a woman who doesn’t eat takeaways, this second lot within a week reminds me why people indulge in them. This chip is the yummiest thing I’ve tasted in a lot time. I try not to think about the salt content.
I hold a fry up to the sky to see if it matches the crescent of the moon. It’s something I