feel guilty at all. Hey! Why don’t you ask her for a really big lump and you could open your own bookshop. Then we’d both be back in gainful employment!’
‘What makes you think I’d give you a job?’
‘Because I’m the best and you would.’
Grant sighed. ‘OK, I would, but I wouldn’t like to ask her for real money. She might need it for her care home or something. I’ll be all right anyway. I don’t mind working for a big chain.’ His attention wandered from his possible next job to Laura’s outfit. ‘Sorry, sweetie, you can’t wear that.’
‘Why not? I thought I’d put on a skirt for once, look a bit smarter than usual. For our big night out.’
‘Well, you look like you’re dressed as a secretary in an am. dram. production of something with a secretary in it, only not as sexy.’
Laura was used to Grant’s less than enthusiastic reaction to her clothes. ‘Thank you very much for your vote of confidence. I love you too.’
‘Don’t get huffy, you actually look nearly OK, only you need to wear something a bit fuller, or trousers.’
Laura threw up her hands to express her incredulous frustration. ‘Usually you’re trying to get me out of trousers! But actually I spilt something on my black ones at the restaurant yesterday, which is why I’m wearing a skirt.’
‘I thought you had about five pairs of black trousers – six since Christmas?’ It was quite clear how he felt about the working-woman’s staple.
‘All either dirty or too worn out to be worn out, if you get my meaning.’
Grant sighed. ‘Enough with the puns. Have you got a skirt you can dance in?’
‘I can bop about in this.’
‘I don’t mean bop about, I mean dance. Lindy Hop to be precise.’
‘Why? We’re going to hear a band. We don’t have to dance in the aisles if we don’t want to. It’s usually voluntary.’
‘But it’s at a club. It’s a Lindy night.’
Laura growled at him. ‘Grant, why didn’t you tell me this before I agreed to go? What is Lindy Hop anyway?’
‘It’s a dance. A bit like jive or rock and roll but with more moves. You’ll find out, anyway. And I didn’t tell you because I knew you wouldn’t agree to go. Now I’m here I can manhandle you into something you can move in and into the car.’
The thought of Grant manhandling her into a pair of trousers made her relax and giggle. After all, clothes were not a big part of her life and she didn’t really care what she wore. The whole Lindy Hop thing was a bit more of a jolt. Although she was perfectly happy bopping about in her kitchen, on her own, she didn’t usually do it in public. On the other hand maybe it was time to do things differently. Grant had certainly been trying to get her to do so for long enough. ‘You’d better come and look at my wardrobe then.’
‘I was hoping you’d say that. And well done for not digging your heels in.’
‘I would have done,’ Laura confessed, ‘but I’m not wearing heels.’
Grant groaned.
‘But seriously,’ Laura went on, ‘the event the other night made me realise just how boring I am. I’ve got to open myself to new experiences.’
Grant nodded, obviously totally agreeing with her. ‘But were you always boring, or is it only since you’ve been working in a bookshop?’
Refusing to be offended at his agreement that she was boring, she considered. ‘I think I’ve always been what you’d call pretty boring. I had friends at uni, of course, but I didn’t go out much, unless I was dragged.’
Grant tutted. ‘Such a waste!’
‘To be honest, it was such bliss not to be nagged at for reading so much, I just . . . well, read mostly, and wrote essays, of course.’
‘And you say you had friends?’ Sceptical didn’t cover it.
‘Yes! I was always there to take washing out of the machine, I always had milk, aspirin, and I could dictate a quick essay if one was needed at the last minute.’ She chuckled. ‘It really pissed me off if they got a better