style="font-size:15px;"> ‘I bet he’s still boring,’ Ed says.
‘You have a shed where you go to escape from your life,’ Clarky points out. ‘You’re boring too.’
‘I suspect we’re all kind of boring now,’ I say. ‘Mr Muscle over there is probably more interesting than all of us put together.’
‘What do you two do for work?’ Clarky asks the couple.
‘I’m a dentist,’ Toby reminds him.
‘I’m a dental nurse,’ the girl adds.
‘You work together then?’ Clarky asks.
‘We do,’ he says proudly.
‘That must suck. If you’ve got your missus watching you all day, you can’t flirt with the customers, can you?’
I’m not sure if he’s making an observation or asking a question.
‘They’re not customers, they’re patients,’ Toby corrects Clarky, as his brow furrows angrily. ‘And I don’t flirt with them, it wouldn’t be ethical.’
That’s a real shame, because I can think of so many dental puns.
‘What do you all do?’ he asks us all, getting the subject back on track.
‘I’m a producer on a soap,’ Zach says, not that he seems all that proud of it. I think he’d rather be making stylish action movies with international location shoots, guns, sexy women and even sexier cars. Instead he produces a soap opera, set just outside Glasgow, in which one of the characters just died by accidentally drinking a spiked drink that was intended for his mum, who it turned out was actually his dad. I learned this watching an omnibus one night last week when I couldn’t sleep, so I can’t even begin to explain it.
‘I’m an acting agent,’ Fiona adds. ‘But we don’t work together.’
‘I’m a paediatrician,’ Ed says.
‘Oh wow, that’s impressive,’ Toby replies.
‘I do social media for a protein company,’ Clarky says.
‘You want to start using it, mate,’ Zach jokes. ‘You might grow a bit.’
‘Piss off,’ he snaps back.
‘Clarky is so short, I’m his doctor,’ Ed quips.
‘Alright, alright,’ he says. ‘Enough of the short jokes. I’m 5'8".’
‘I’m 5'8",’ I point out. The only way he’s 5'8" is with his arms in the air. ‘I work in PR too, for a fashion retailer.’
We’re interrupted by the starters being placed down in front of us. Everyone at the table gets two tiny canapés, apart from Toby and his fiancée, who get a couple of cherry tomatoes and a couple of sticks of celery.
‘Tight arse,’ Clarky muses, throwing one of the small savoury pastries into his mouth whole. ‘I hope the main is decent.’
‘I hope it’s surf and turf,’ Zach jokes, putting on a scouse accent.
‘Apparently we’re getting a little downtime between our starter and our main,’ Fiona tells us.
‘What?’ the boys all whine in unison.
‘I’m starving,’ Ed says. ‘And drinking heavily, but this is my day off so I don’t care.’
He dances in his seat a little, to demonstrate just how carefree he is.
‘You enjoy it, mate,’ Zach tells him, patting him on the back. ‘Before it’s back to misery.’
Fiona shuffles uncomfortably in her chair.
‘Are you OK?’ I ask her.
‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she replies quietly. ‘Sometimes he just says the wrong thing and it winds me up.’
‘He’s just joking. Ed knows that.’
I look down at my canapés. One of them has a sort of creamy mushroom paste in, which I give to Clarky because I don’t like mushrooms, and he’ll eat pretty much anything. The other is a ham and cheese thing that isn’t too bad, I just wish I had twenty of them. It’s past lunchtime now, and the lack of food makes me really happy I decided not to drink. I can see Zach, Ed and Clarky getting quite merry already. Hopefully they are different drunks to the ones they were when we were at uni. The last thing we need today is to see these guys regress ten years.
‘Tommy boy,’ Clarky sings as Tom approaches our table.
‘Hey, how’s it going?’ he asks everyone.
Everyone makes small talk for a few minutes. Everyone but me. I just watch Tom as he chats. He’s got this easy way with people. He treats every word uttered to him like it’s important, which makes people feel important, and everything he says in response just oozes with charisma. You know how men have a bad reputation for not really listening? Well, Tom isn’t like that. Tom has a brain like a hard drive, storing every little detail.
‘Luca, can I borrow you?’ he says.
‘Are we allowed to leave the table?’ Clarky asks, worried.
‘It’s not school,’ Tom laughs. ‘We’re not eating our mains for a while, we’re allowed to circulate.’
‘I’m not going to chance it,’ Clarky says seriously.
‘You’ll take a risk, right, Luca?’
‘Course she will,’ Fiona tells Tom.
‘Yep,’ I reply reluctantly.
What could be better than hearing all about my not-quite ex’s perfect life? Literally anything, I’d imagine.
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