Chapter 9
“And don’t you be looking up my skirt, Simon,” she said from the top of the stepladder.
“Aw, go on, just a quick peek,” I whined. “You’re no fun anymore.”
She laughed. “Don’t start, you’ll have me off this thing.”
Mary and I had grown even closer. We’d agreed to go out every Friday night. Sometimes we’d have dinner at a pub, other times we’d watch a movie at the town’s single screen cinema. Once we even went bowling, but I was totally hopeless at it, so we agreed—much to my relief—not to do that again.
Of course we kept up our usual friendly banter, laughing out loud frequently. People would look round at us to see what was funny and not unsurprisingly, this caused us to laugh even more. We played our usual game of man watching, Mary giving me a poke in the ribs if a bloke looked our way.
“See him, Simon, the one in the red sweater? No, don’t be so obvious about it. He’s looking this way. Perhaps this’ll be your chance.”