Chapter 29: Another First Date

Pulling up outside Lily’s house on Friday evening felt very, very strange. Before I’d left the house, Clarissa and I had exchanged text messages wishing each other good luck on our respective dates. The previous three nights had been repeats of Monday, with Clarissa phoning me after her mom had thought she’d gone to bed. I also got a lot more saucy photos from her during the week. On Thursday night, before we said goodbye, she’d asked why I hadn’t sent her any photos of me. I duly obliged—much to her textual delight.

Lily’s father opened the door. The last time I’d seen him was just before I passed out in the bathroom at The Halloween Ball.

“Paul, right? Come on in. Lily’s still getting ready. You know how women are.” He extended his hand, which I shook.

“Thanks, Mr Williams.”

“Oh, none of that, now. Call me Pete, please.”

“Okay. Thanks, Pete.” That felt weird.

“I knew your father. Hell of a dedicated man. And a great engineer. Some of the changes he’d started to make on the shop floor would have led to major efficiency savings if he’d have been able to follow them through. That accident really was a tragedy in more ways than one.”

“Daddy, are you talking about the factory again?” Lily came down the stairs looking amazing in a black knee-length skirt with pleats at the hem and a white sleeveless blouse. “Paul’s not interested. Are you, Paul?”

“It’s okay, Lils.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Pete said as Lily hugged his side. He kissed her on the top of the head then looked at me. “You take care of my little girl, now, you hear?”

“I will, sir.”

“Pete.”

“I will, Pete.”

“Good. Back by midnight, young lady. Now, you two go have fun. Just not too much fun, if you know what I mean.”

“Daddy!”

Lily practically dragged me out of the house.

“He was just trying to embarrass you, don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah, well, he succeeded.” She composed herself and stood by the car door. “Do I look okay? I wasn’t sure what to wear. I mean, I know it’s not a real date, but we’re supposed to make it look like one in case anyone sees us, so I figured—”

“You look fantastic. Just perfect.”

She smiled. And blushed, but just a little. “Thanks. Okay, let’s go then. Are we eating before the movie or after?”

We watched the movie first—mindless in the mould of many an action movie, but fun nevertheless. Afterwards, we headed for Mario’s, the pasta and pizza restaurant on the same leisure park, and spent ten minutes chatting about the movie while we waited for our food.

“Did your dad have anything to do with the factory before he started working there?” I asked as we started tucking into our meals.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I suppose it’s possible. He was—well still is, I suppose—a business consultant, which I think means businesses pay him to help them be better businesses or more profitable or something like that. Anyway, he had—well, has—loads of clients. The way I understand it is that he’s at Liddington’s for two years helping to sort out where they can save money. His two partners in London are still looking after the clients they have there, and he’ll go back when he’s finished here. I don’t know if Liddington’s was a client before or not, but I suppose it’s possible. Why’d you ask?”

“Something he said earlier. He said he knew my dad. But Dad only ever worked at the factory so the only way he could have known him must have been through work.”

“Must have been. I’m sorry, Paul. I wish I could tell you, but I honestly have no clue.”

“It doesn’t matter. I was just curious.”

I dropped Lily off half an hour before she had to be home. We exchanged good night kisses—on the cheek—and I drove home. I was in bed before midnight, watching a Friday evening comedy on my laptop via the BBC iPlayer. How did we ever cope before it?

Ten minutes in, my mobile rang.

“Hi, Riss.”

“Hi.” She didn’t sound happy.

“How was the date?”

“Awful. Just awful.”

“Who was it?”

“Tom Chapman.”

“The one she wanted you to go to The Halloween Ball with?”

“Yeah, that’s him. I swear, Paul, he’s a slimy, tactless, arrogant git.”

“That bad?”

“Worse.” She sighed. “It’s like ... I don’t know ... I got the impression he felt like it was his right to go out with me or something. Like he thinks he’s something special. But he’s not. He’s really not. He’s horrible. He put his arm around me in the taxi home—yes, I said taxi, he wanted to drink so refused to drive—and he tried to pull me closer to him and grab my boob. Then I kissed him goodnight on the doorstep—cause it’s only polite, isn’t it?—and I just wanted a little peck and he tried to shove his damn tongue down my throat. Then afterwards he said that he knew I had to see a couple of other guys that Mom had lined up, and he hoped I didn’t mind if he saw other girls while I was, but he’d be waiting for me when I was finished. Slime ball.” Another sigh. “What about you? How was your date?”