At ten to seven, Mary walked from her mother's front door to the gate, then back again. Ruth had told her to stop letting the heat out, so she was doing the waiting outside.
Adam appeared at the corner carrying a bottle of wine. When he saw her, he lifted it.
“I've tried to look respectable.”
“You'll be pleased to know we have no formal examination.”
He kissed her. She had expected a brief kiss, something suitable for a front garden, but his free hand settled against her back and for a moment she forgot she had brought him here to meet someone else.
“Come in,” she said when they parted. “Before she looks out.”
Ruth was in the hall. She greeted Adam by name and took the bottle.
“Good to see you,” he said.
“Thank you for coming.”
It was all perfectly polite. Mary wished her mother would sound less like someone collecting tickets.
She hung up Adam's jacket beside her own and took his hand to lead him through to the kitchen. The table was set with the blue plates Ruth used for company. The cooking smelled of lemon and garlic.
“Chicken,” Mary said. “My favourite. You didn't have to.”
“You said something easy,” Ruth said.
“For you.”
Ruth went to the oven. Mary stood close to Adam while he looked at the garden through the window, liking how it felt to have him in a room she knew so well. This was what she had wanted: for the people in her life to occupy the same space, so she wouldn't have to keep explaining each one to the others.
Ruth asked whether he wanted wine.
“Just water, thank you.”
“There's nothing stronger required,” Mary said.
He glanced at her. “So far.”
Her mother smiled and got a water glass.
During dinner, Ruth asked about a shop Adam was working on. He explained that the owner kept changing the opening date, which made it difficult to promise anything else that week. Mary had heard about the job on their walk the evening before; now she could ask about the damaged window frame without needing an explanation first.
She liked that small possession of knowledge. She knew a thing about his day.
“You could tell him a date and make him work round you,” Ruth said.
“I could. But then I might not get the job.”
“I do that,” Mary said. “Say I'm available and hope the client develops a conscience before Monday.”
“You need firmer terms.”
“We came for chicken, Mum.”
Adam smiled into his glass. Ruth gave Mary another potato.
For a while they talked about the hall's summer events and the trouble June was having storing folding chairs. The conversation was easy to follow, but Mary kept looking for somewhere to put the fact that this was a date, that Adam had kissed her at the gate, that they weren't three people discussing a building.
“We went back to see our pots,” she said.
“They're still standing,” Adam said. “I still think mine should have had a prize.”
“For surviving?”
“They fired them?” Ruth asked.
“They'll do that later,” Mary said. “We chose the colours yesterday. Mine will be yellow. His will be terribly dignified.”
“Green is allowed to be fun.”
“Not the green you chose.”
Ruth looked from one to the other. Mary felt suddenly pleased and shy, as though she had opened a door on something private without meaning to.
After dinner, she carried plates to the sink. Adam stood too, and Ruth asked him to bring the dish from the table while she found dessert. Mary put the plates down and went upstairs to wash her hands. She had managed to get sauce on a finger and then on the side of her trousers.
When she came back, her mother and Adam were clearing the last glasses. Mary took one from him. He pressed his hand briefly against hers as he let go.
Dessert was pears. Ruth offered cream; Mary said no.
“You usually have it.”
“I'm full.”
Her mother put the jug down without filling Mary's bowl, and Mary was grateful not to have to explain the no twice.
The evening ended a little after nine. Ruth wouldn't let them do the washing-up. At the door, she reminded Adam about the gathering the following Sunday.
“I'll see you at the hall,” she said.
“Thank you for dinner.”
Mary hugged her mother. She had wanted more warmth for him, but asking for it now would make everyone uncomfortable.
Outside, she slid her arm through his.
“Was that awful?”
“No.”
“She was rather formal.”
“It's her house. I'm seeing her daughter.”
“She can be like that with June's plumber.”
They walked a little way before he asked, “Did you want it to be different?”
“I wanted her to like you.”
“She's had one dinner.”
“I know. You don't have to win her over on schedule.”
She leaned against him as they walked. The answer had been sensible. She could let the meal be one meal instead of making it a verdict.
At her building he asked whether she wanted him to come up. She said yes, then remembered the laundry drying in the living room.
“You will have to look past my socks.”
“I'll do my best.”
The flat seemed smaller with him in it. She moved the drying rack into the bedroom, then came back to find him reading the titles of the books piled below her empty shelves. He hadn't started rearranging anything.
“I've been meaning to put those up.”
“Do you have a drill?”
“Yes. I'm waiting for confidence.”
“I won't do it now.”
She put her arms around him. “Good.”
This time there was no front gate and no one to come looking. His hands moved to her waist. She kissed him until she could feel the smile against her mouth.
Later they sat on the sofa with their legs touching. She asked whether he always liked working for himself. He said sometimes he wanted someone else to make the phone calls, then asked whether she ever wished someone would tell her what to do.
“For about ten minutes. Then I'd argue.”
“I've noticed.”
She rested her head on his shoulder. She hadn't been home long enough to get used to the sounds from the street. A car door shut below them. Footsteps passed the building. Adam's hand lay loosely over hers, and none of it bothered her.
When he left, he bent to kiss her once more at the flat's door. She watched him go down the stairs and stood for a moment with the key in her hand.
Her mother hadn't been enthusiastic. The shelves weren't up. There would be a bill for the blind repair.
Mary went back inside, turned off the big light and sat where they had been sitting. She could still feel the weight of his hand.