When I wake up on Saturday morning, I’m greeted by an empty spot beside me in bed. Rubbing my bleary eyes, I’m about to throw back the duvet and go to find Shep, when the bedroom door is literally kicked open and he bursts through it, brandishing a tray laden with what I’m guessing is breakfast.
‘Good morning, sexy landlady.’ He grins at me, barely giving me enough time to sit up before plonking the tray in my lap.
‘Are you really going to keep calling me that?’ I look up at him with a drowsy grimace.
‘You don’t like me calling you sexy?’
‘No, I don’t like you calling me a landlady. It makes me feel like I’m seventy-five. And frumpy.’
He ponders this. ‘OK, how about… sexy mistress of the house?’
‘Now I sound like a dominatrix.’
‘I could get on board with that.’
I narrow my eyes at him. ‘Yeah… I couldn’t.’
‘Right, then. I’ll give it some thought.’
‘You do that.’ I shoot him a good-natured but scathing look. ‘So, what’s all this?’
My eyes roam the delicious-looking spread in front of me, my stomach rumbling in response to the sight and smell of it. There’s a small bowl of mixed berries, a yoghurt, a mug of steaming tea and a plate of freshly made scrambled eggs with smoked salmon.
He leans in and kisses me softly. ‘It’s for being you. I hope you like smoked salmon and scrambled eggs.’
‘I do.’ I pick up the fork from the tray, scoop some up and taste it. ‘Mmm… that’s good. Is that fried soda bread underneath it?’
‘It is. It’s fusion cuisine.’
‘Would we say putting Scottish and Northern Irish fayre together is fusion?’
He frowns. ‘Are you gonna eat that or do I need to take it off you for showing a blatant disregard for my culinary genius?’
‘Sorry.’ I sneak a cheeky glance at him before diving into my food. ‘It is really tasty, thank you so much. Just what I need for my hangover.’
Shep climbs onto the other side of the bed, stretching himself out beside me, and I feed him mouthfuls while I’m eating. He’s either intentionally served me a plate intended for two or his portion sizing is way off.
Sitting there, chewing contentedly while sipping at my tea, I can feel my drowsiness lingering. Not only have I been getting less sleep than usual, but I’ve also been out most nights in the last week, which I’m not used to anymore. And the truth is: I’m exhausted. As much as I’m loving hanging out with Shep, maybe I need a chilled night in to sort me out. Not sure I want to go into a second week at work with my eyes hanging out my head, especially when—
‘So, I’ve been thinking,’ Shep interrupts my thoughts. ‘It’s my night off. How about we go see Cath Armstrong together? We could go for dinner first. Like a meal out, not just fish and chips or something from a street-food truck. It could be our first proper date?’
My hand goes to my mouth. ‘Oh, I completely forgot about the show.’
I’m also now realising that my idea of a night in is a non-starter. On digesting all this, discomfort creeps over me.
‘Shep, you don’t need to do that.’
He chews and swallows the latest mouthful I’ve fed him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean you don’t need to come with me because I don’t have anyone else to go with.’
‘Were you not listening there?’ He cocks his head, giving me a questioning look. ‘Why would I suggest dinner and a proper date if I was pulling a pity move? If that were the case, I’d have said, give me one of the tickets and have a pint waiting on my seat.’
‘Oh.’ I try to respond positively to his light-hearted teasing, but my self-consciousness persists.
‘Lea, you do realise the only person making a big thing out of your stuff is you?’
‘That’s not true.’ I immediately go on the defensive. ‘You were weirded out when you thought I’d only invited you to stay because I was sad and desperate. You also called me a “weird loner chick” when we first met, remember?’
‘Yeah, I did. I was a total dickhead for doing both those things and I deeply regret using those words.’ He shakes his head in frustration. ‘Now, are you gonna ruin the moment, or are you gonna put me out of my misery and agree to go on a date with me?’
Dialling back his obvious exasperation with me, he reaches across and playfully ruffles my hair, which has the instant effect of lightening the mood.
My face spreads into a smile, while my inner voice tells me I can sleep when I’m dead. ‘OK, let’s go on a proper date.’
Just before seven p.m., I gingerly step out of my bedroom into the hallway, my high heels click-clacking on the wooden floorboards as I do so. It’s the first time in ages that I’ve got properly dressed up to go out. In fact, it’s been so long, I almost don’t recognise myself in the mirror. My hair is tonged into loose ringlets – I’m far from a pro, so it’s a bit of an amateur job, but it makes my hair look thick and glossy. I’ve put on more makeup than usual, so my eyes are glittering with a tangerine sparkle and I’ve defined them with jet-black liquid eyeliner. It’s my attempt at making them pop, inspired by Sal’s killer eye makeup the evening before. I’m also wearing a green chiffon shift dress that’s probably a bit too short – the expectation being that I’ll spend the whole evening self-consciously pulling it down at the back.
Looking at my reflection, I wince, wondering if I’ve overdone it. I’m also wondering why I felt the need to get so glammed up. Was it because I wanted to look nice and it’s a rare opportunity to do so? Or was it because of the conversation I had with Becca, Tess and Sal about Shep, and the impact it had on me? Until that point, I genuinely hadn’t thought much about where things would go – or more likely not go – between us. But now that Pandora’s box has been opened, I know these musings are going to hang over me like a cloud of relentless Scottish drizzle. And no surprises, there’s a part of me that’s blindly hoping this “first proper date” we’re going on is a sign of something more significant developing between us.
‘Come on now.’ I give myself a quiet pep talk in the mirror to bring myself back to earth. ‘You knew from the start what this was.’
‘That you talking to yourself again?’ Shep calls out.
‘Um, no,’ I call back. ‘I’m just saying I’m ready.’
‘At last. I was starting to think that—’ He emerges from the living room and stops dead when he sees me. ‘Oh, wow. Who’s this stunner?’ He follows this up with an appreciative whistle.
‘Stop it.’ I fold my arms across my chest, feeling like livestock being inspected at an auction.
‘Stop what? Admiring the beautiful woman I’m lucky enough to be taking on a date tonight?’
‘I mean stop taking the mick.’
‘I’m not taking the mick. I just haven’t seen you dressed up before. You look incredible.’ He steps forward and coaxes me into a long, slow kiss that makes me shiver with desire.
‘All right, let’s go.’ I wriggle out of his grasp before things go any further, and I have to do my makeup and hair all over again.
We spend the walk to the restaurant – a rustic and reasonably priced Italian place on Newington Road – arguing about who’s paying for the meal, eventually agreeing that we’ll split the bill. Shep’s view is that he asked me on the date, so he should pay, but as he’s already paid for the show tickets – and because he’s not exactly flush, though I don’t mention this part out loud – I’m of the view that I should cover it.
‘Have you heard from your family at all since you’ve been here?’ I ask him when we’re finishing off our main course. ‘I hope it’s OK to ask. It’s just that you haven’t said.’
I pop my last forkful of king prawn risotto in my mouth and wait for his response.
‘Not a word.’ He sighs heavily and I immediately regret bringing this up when we’ve been having such a lovely evening together.
‘I’m sorry. That must be upsetting for you.’
‘They’re making a point. It is what it is.’ He listlessly stabs at the remains of the pizza on his plate.
I purse my lips, feeling his pain. ‘I really do think if they were to watch you on stage, they’d see this all differently.’
‘I’m not so sure, to be honest. They might be willing to accept that I’m good at it, but it’ll never change their view that I should be following the family path. It’s like some kind of prestige thing and I’m tarnishing our name.’
‘It’s not like you’re a criminal.’
‘No, but in their eyes, it probably is a crime of sorts.’ He gives a hopeless shrug, and all I want to do in this moment is phone up his parents and bawl at them for being so shit.
Reaching across the table, I take his hand. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up. Let’s change the subject. Unless you want to talk about it?’
‘No, it’s a waste of time.’ He rubs my fingers with his thumb. ‘Let’s talk about you. We’ve been on me, and the highs and lows of my comedy career, for most of the meal.’
‘That’s because it’s fascinating. OK, what do you want to know?’
‘I don’t know. Like, what’s the focus of the research project you’re working on?’ Shep tops up my wine glass with the cheap, but perfectly acceptable, bottle of Pinot Grigio we’ve ordered. ‘You’ve never told me anything about your job.’
I lift my glass to take a sip, and shrug. ‘It’s not exactly a riveting topic of conversation. Not like having a career as a comedian.’
‘I suppose. Though it depends on what you see as interesting.’
‘The project I’m working on is cardiac related.’
‘You’re in medicine too?’ Shep facepalms. ‘There was me thinking I’d escaped that world.’
‘I’m not.’ I laugh and shake my head. ‘I did start my studies thinking I wanted to be a pharmacist, but in the end, I realised it wasn’t for me and that the research side of medicine was what I was most interested in.’
‘I guess I’ll let you off. Especially as you’re hot and you’re giving me lots of sex.’
The young waitress who’s appeared to clear our plates at the wrong moment clears her throat awkwardly and does a U-turn, as if she’s suddenly needed elsewhere.
‘Good timing.’ I smirk into my wine. ‘I thought you were a master of delivery.’
‘How do you know I didn’t do that on purpose?’ He has a glint in his eye that almost makes me think he did. ‘Anyway, back to you, tell me more about your research study.’
‘You don’t really want me to tell you about it, do you?’
‘I do.’ He balls up his napkin and discards it on the table, his gaze lingering on me. ‘We’re on our first real date and first dates are important. I want to know more about you, and your job is part of who you are. Stop avoiding the question, Miss Deflector.’
‘I’m not deflecting. It’s fairly complex and probably difficult to understand if you don’t have a background in medical science.’ I wince on saying this, concerned that Shep will take offence, given his dysfunctional relationship with medicine and medics. But he doesn’t seem fazed by this comment.
‘Try me.’
‘OK, I’m working on a project to develop a new cancer drug. It’s very close to my heart because my great-aunt Lizbeth – who I inherited my flat from – died from cancer. I stayed with her during my first two years of university, when I couldn’t afford to rent a room in halls or a shared flat. She was really kind to me, so it’s sort of my way of paying her back, if that makes any sense.’
‘It makes a lot of sense.’ He smiles at me with sympathetic eyes. ‘I’m sorry to hear about your aunt.’
‘It’s fine. She was quite old, but it’s still never easy.’
Shep nods and holds my gaze, and unless I’m imagining it, there’s a moment of real emotional depth between us – one that makes me think he’s also considering whether there might be an ‘us’ beyond the end of the month.
Forcing my focus away from this hopeful reflection and back to our conversation, I proceed to tell Shep a bit more about the project, but it’s not long before I spot his eyes glazing over. ‘See, I told you it wasn’t Saturday-night chat.’
He seems to come to, pulling an apologetic face. ‘Sorry, Lea. I was trying to listen, but you’re right, I’m not following the lingo.’
‘You don’t need to apologise. It’s clear that area’s not for you, otherwise you’d have followed in the footsteps of your family.’
‘True. I could have hidden it better, though.’
I shake my head. ‘I disagree. I like that you’re easy to read.’
A smile plays on the corners of his lips. ‘If only I could say the same for you, Miss Deflector.’
‘Hey, enough of that cheek. My skeletons are now glaringly on show, as you well know. And if that’s your replacement nickname for me, then “veto”. I definitely prefer sexy landlady over that.’
‘See, sometimes all it takes to accept the status quo is to know there’s nothing better.’
‘You’re an idiot.’ I chuck my napkin at him and he expertly catches it.
‘Yeah, but I’m your idiot.’
‘For now.’
‘Better to have had and lost an idiot than to never have had one at all. Means you’ll appreciate who comes next all the more.’ He grins across the table at me, and I stick my tongue out at him while my insides go into a tailspin.
If that’s not clear evidence of his feelings about us, I don’t know what is. This ‘date’ we’re on is obviously nothing more than a prop to add some superficial shine to our steamy live-in situation. Perhaps even to make it feel more acceptable. I’ve been an idiot to think it was anything other than that.
‘You all right?’ Shep peers at me. ‘You look a bit green all of a sudden.’
‘I’m fine.’ I rummage through my handbag as a way of avoiding eye contact. ‘Probably just eaten a bit too much. Some fresh air will sort me out.’
‘Shall we just get the bill, then? Show starts in half an hour, so we don’t have time for dessert.’
I nod mutely, feeling a crushing disappointment, and watch as he signals to the server. How can I – after repeating the same pattern over and over – meet a guy I know isn’t planning to stick around, and still think that somehow things will turn out differently? Is that blind faith or just stupidity?
‘That was fantastic!’ I’m practically bouncing along next to Shep as we exit the show venue at the Pleasance, Cath Armstrong’s brilliantly wicked humour having cheered me up significantly since the end of our meal.
‘I knew you’d enjoy it.’ Shep slips his arm around my waist, giving me an affectionate squeeze as we follow the stream of fellow festivalgoers outside.
‘She was hilarious. That bit about the banana in her handbag. Oh my God, I nearly wet myself.’
‘I’m glad you didn’t. That would have made it an awkward first date.’
‘Do you think people actually do that?’
‘What? Wet themselves at comedy shows?’
‘Yeah.’
He seems to shake his head in amusement at my daft question. ‘I’ve never really thought about it, but I guess it’s possible. You could do a research study on it.’
‘Can you imagine?’ I snicker. ‘Bringing people to a Cath Armstrong performance and asking who’s still dry at the end of it.’
‘Hey, why not my show?’ Shep digs me playfully in the ribs. ‘Are you saying I’m not funny enough to make people piss themselves?’
‘Aww, of course you are. I bet the seats in your venue have been soiled many times over. I just said Cath Armstrong because we were talking about her show.’ I glance across at him but he’s no longer paying attention, having just received an alert on his phone, so I wait patiently for him to tend to whatever has come in.
‘Holy shit,’ he exclaims, his mouth forming a perfect ‘O’. ‘Check this out. A mate just sent it to me.’
I take his phone from him and read the headline on the screen out loud, while he watches me intently.
‘“Dark horses of the Fringe – the top free shows in Edinburgh this summer”. Are you in this or something?’
‘Just read it,’ Shep urges me.
I quickly scan the article before reading it properly. ‘Oh my goodness, you are in it. You’re number two. “Second on my list and making his debut at the Fringe is Northern Irish comedian Shep, with his stand-up show, Caught In The Act. When I took my seat at this one, I was hoping for some decent comedy, but what I got was a whole lot more. Shep hasn’t just produced a hilarious and bone-gratingly honest stand-up routine, he’s also weaved through a Michael McIntyre-style game show element that brings Fringe audience participation to a whole new level. No spoilers here, but if you’re game for a laugh, get yourself along to see him.” Oh wow, Shep, this is incredible.’
‘Can you believe it? I’m a “dark horse” of the Fringe.’ Shep’s shaking his head like he’s struggling to digest this fortunate turn of events.
‘You know what? I can.’ I hand him his phone back, then reach up and cup his face with my hands, before giving him a big smacker on the lips. ‘Congratulations! You deserve this. The only thing I think is wrong with that article is that you should be number one.’
‘Ah, you’re biased.’ He bats away my compliment. ‘You haven’t seen any of the other free shows on that list.’
‘No, but I have just seen Cath Armstrong. I’ve also watched plenty of other stand-up comedians on TV and at the festival in the past, and I think you’re as good as any of them.’
‘You really think so?’ Shep’s expression changes to one I read as hope mixed with self-doubt.
‘I know so. Don’t let that family of yours get in your head. You’ve just been put on the map by…’ I check the article again, having not yet looked at the publication. ‘…Main Attraction. Ooh, that’s awesome! They’re like the voice of all things entertainment.’
‘I have been put on the map, haven’t I?’ Shep’s face breaks into a full-on grin and he pumps the air triumphantly as we make our way out of the courtyard. ‘This shit just got real.’
‘Which means you need to be 100 per cent with every show from here on out – because now you never know who might be in your audience.’
‘Bring it on.’ He puffs himself up as if demonstrating he’s ready for the challenge. ‘This is exactly what I needed to get me fired up. I came here chasing a dream, but deep down I don’t think I ever really expected to get lucky. I hoped for it, as everyone does, but the odds were stacked against me—’
‘And now they’ve turned in your favour.’ I beam at him.
‘Bloody hell, Lea, I owe you so much. If I’d got on that flight home that night instead of bumping into you… If you hadn’t offered me somewhere to stay, or I’d said no when you did, I’d have—’
‘No, stop.’ I bring us to a halt and take Shep’s hands in mine. ‘What might have been is irrelevant. That’s one thing I’ve learned through my research work. Don’t get lost in alternative scenarios where the data isn’t offering anything meaningful. Focus on the facts and what the evidence is telling you in the here and now.’
Shep raises a tentative hand. ‘You want to put that in plain English for the non-lab rat people here?’
‘Very funny. In your case, that means forgetting what might have been if you’d made a different decision, or if things had played out differently. Fact: you decided to stay in Edinburgh and you just got your first big endorsement. This means you now have evidence that what you’re doing is working, and all your focus should go into delivering a top-notch show. That’s all that matters.’
‘You’re right. Totally.’ He grabs me and kisses me hard on the lips. ‘You’re a bloody genius, Lea. How did I get so lucky as to bump into you?’
We resume our walk back to mine, Shep now the one with a significant bounce in his step, while I can’t help poring over what the facts are telling me about us. We may have just been on our first proper date, but between Shep’s comment at dinner and this glowing review, which could well lead to the big break he’s been seeking, I really can’t see an eventuality where we end up together – and that makes me very sad indeed.