Bev and Romance

Bev hugged her friends good-night. She was ready for home. It had been a good night catching up over a few drinks in the city centre bars. Now with her feet hurting from her new shoes, and her ears ringing from the noise of the music and chat, all she wanted was a cup of tea and her bed. 

Bev stepped outside the bar to meet her taxi. Her taxi pulled up to the kerb. A guy in his twenties dashed across the pavement. He yanked open the door of the taxi-cab. 

‘Excuse me, that’s my taxi.’ Bev called out.

The guy stopped half-inside the car. 

‘What name is it, mate?’ He asked the driver.

‘Beverley, going to Peel Green.’ The driver said.

‘Not Luke, then? Going to Patricroft?’ Luke asked.

The driver shook his head. Luke swore reluctantly climbed out of the car.

‘Thank-you.’ Bev said sarcastically.

Luke hovered on the pavement, his eyes scanning the road for another cab home. The taxi driver asked Bev for the exact post-code she was headed to.

‘Actually, could you drop me in Peel Green, then him in Patricroft?’ Bev asked the driver.

‘Yeah, sure.’ He nodded, tapping on the mobile phone mounted on the dashboard.

Bev, leaned out of the door, waving a hand.

‘Are you coming? He’ll drop me off first, then take you home.’ She said.

The young man beamed, and bounced across the pavement towards her. He slid in the cab beside her. As he clunked his seat-belt he turned to her.

‘You’re a life-saver. I’d have been stood there trying to flag down anything that went past.’

Bev laughed. His humour was infectious. 

‘I’m Beverley, she said, Bev to my friends.’ 

‘And to your taxi-buddies?’ Luke said.

‘Bev to them too.’ She laughed.

‘I’m Luke. Pleased to meetcha.’

He shook her hand in a jokey, mock-formal way. 

As the taxi carried on through the darkness across the city, Bev chatted away to Luke. He had this wit and energy and a warmth about him. He didn’t seem as cynical as her. Maybe, as he was younger, life hadn’t knocked the stuffing out of him just yet. Bev knew that she had lost the silly humour and spontaneity of her younger days somewhere along the way. She’d left her silliness somewhere in her thirties. 

‘How old are you?’ She asked.

‘It’s rude to ask a chap his age.’ He laughed. ‘I’m twenty eight. Do I dare ask you the same question?’

‘Forty-two.’ Bev said. 

‘A good age.’ Luke said, a flirty glint in his eye.

‘Easy tiger.’ Bev replied.

Luke laughed, his cheeks reddening. 

The taxi turned into Bev’s street and pulled to the kerb. She handed Luke a twenty pound note and told him that should be enough. As she was climbing out of the taxi, Luke called out.

‘Can I see you again?’ 

‘You must be drunk.’ Bev replied. ‘I suggest you go and sleep it off.’

Still laughing she shut the car door and headed up the path to her front door.

The following afternoon, as usual on Sundays, Bev was getting things sorted for the next day. She was making her sandwiches for Monday’s lunch and ironing a few work tops.

There was a knock at the door. Expecting it to be a delivery driver dropping off her latest online purchase, she opened the door. She laughed in shock at the scene.

Grinning from behind a large bunch of flowers was Luke. 

‘What on earth are you doing?’ Bev asked.

‘I was wondering if you fancied doing something this afternoon.’ 

Bev was about to tell him to get lost, but something stopped her. He really did seem keen to get to know her.

‘What did you have in mind?’ she asked.

‘I know a cracking little pub that does a lovely Sunday roast, if you’d care to join me?’

‘You’re crazy. You can’t just knock on a stranger’s door and ask them to out for dinner.’ Bev said.  

‘Firstly, we’re not strangers. We’re very good friends, actually.’ Luke insisted.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, we’re taxi mates. You and I go way back.’ Luke said.

‘Hmm, just over twelve hours. And secondly?’

‘It’s not dinner, it’s a Sunday lunch. Besides, it’s the least I can do, you helped me get home last night.’

Bev said nothing, crossing her arms, watching him with amusement. 

‘Don’t tell me, you’ve got something better planned, than a nice pub lunch with a charming young man.’ Luke said.

‘Geez, you’re like a puppy.’ Bev said.

‘That’s part of my charm.’ Luke said. ‘These are for you.’

He handed her the flowers. 

As she dashed inside, to put the flowers in a vase with water, she felt excitement. She felt like she was a teenager once again, being asked out to the school disco. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and told herself to get a grip. 

As they tucked in to their Sunday lunch, over a pint of beer for Luke and a glass of wine for her, they chatted away. The conversation flowed so easily. They laughed and joked around, she found his younger sense of humour rather charming. And he seemed interested in her too. Finally, they finished their lunch and down the last of their drinks. 

They step out into the cold dark of the late afternoon.

‘Can I see you again?’ He asked.

‘You really want to do this again?’ Bev replied.

‘You’ve had a good time too, admit it.’

‘Yes, fine,’ she raised her hands, ‘I’ve had a lovely afternoon.’

‘And you’d like to do this again?’

‘Alright, yes, go on then.’

‘It’s a date.’ Luke said.

‘Woah, I never said a date.’ Bev said.

‘I want to take you out properly, next time. We’ll go for drinks and a meal, a proper date.’ Luke insisted. 

Bev had to admit, the younger man was growing on her. The idea of going on a date with him, did seem like something she would look forward to. 

‘I’d like that.’ She admitted.

He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

Before he left, they swapped numbers. 

Looking back, Bev would consider that moment the start of their relationship. The text messages and phone calls were almost constant from that point. While he was younger than her, he seemed older than twenty-eight, and maybe she came across younger than in her forties. Maybe they met in the middle somewhere, she thought. 

They would spend some part of the weekend together, either meeting for food or drinks, or just crashing on Bev’s sofa in front of the television. 

One evening, when she met her friends for a few drinks she decided it was time to tell them about her new relationship. When they were all seated on the tall stools around the table, glasses of wine in front of them, she said she had news. The chatter stopped, her friends turned to face her.

‘I’m actually seeing somebody.’ Bev started.

Her friends shrieked and clapped their hands, while Bev insisted it was still very early days. 

‘Who is he? What’s he like?’

‘He’s called Luke and he’s a sales rep for a paper company. He lives in Peel Green. That’s how we met. We were both after the same taxi. I suggested we share. And that was the start of it really.’ Bev said. 

Her friends gushed at how that was such a romantic way to meet.

‘And,’ she added, ‘he’s twenty-eight years old.’ 

Silence descended on the group once again, this time they exchanged concerned glances. Here we go, thought Bev.

‘He’s really nice, honestly.’ Bev insisted. 

Finally, one of her friends took hold of her hand.

‘We just don’t want you to get hurt.’ Tracy said.

‘How will I get hurt?’ 

‘When he leaves you for someone his own age. It will happen in the end, you know.’

‘He asked me out, you know? And I’m sure he’ll treat me right. He’s lovely.’ Bev said.

‘It’s the way these things always end. They always leave you for a young one. You won’t be able to keep up with him. You won’t be going raving and clubbing will you? Some girl his age will steal him away.’

‘You haven’t even met him yet. You might like him.’

‘Have you met his friends? Does he take you out with his mates?’

‘No, not yet. We’ve just been going out the two of us.’

‘Nice bars? A few drinks?’

‘Yes, what’s wrong with that?’

‘You’ll see the real Luke in a club when he’s off his head, with his friends.’ 

‘So, Marie, how’s the new job going?’ Bev said, attempting to change the subject.

Bev decided that once the news wasn’t fresh and exciting, the controversy would blow over, she just had to ride it out for now. Soon enough there would be new gossip for people to chew over. When all the furore over the age-gap blew over, they would eventually be accepted as just Bev and Luke, the couple that they were. 

She decided to tell a few of her work-mates. She was rather close to a few of them. Once her colleagues knew, she could, perhaps bring him along on the works nights out. 

Over tea in the office canteen, she mentioned that she was in a relationship. Again, there was the excitement. Bev then dropped the bombshell about his age. 

‘That’s very young, isn’t it? He’s a child.’ Linda said.

‘Stop it, he’s a nice lad, actually.’ Bev replied.

‘A nice boy, is he? Can’t he meet someone his own age?’

‘We just really hit it off. It’s early days but we like each other.’

‘He’ll trade you in for a younger model, soon enough. They all do. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ Linda said.

‘How can you judge someone you’ve never met? I’m sure he will prove you wrong. We will show the lot of you.’ Bev said. She left the canteen without another word. 

That evening, as she watched rubbish reality television, the words of her friends and he colleagues went around her mind. Why couldn’t they just be happy for her? Did it matter that there was a few years between them? Maybe that’s what made them work, maybe the differences were what made them click. 

She called Luke on his mobile. She was sure he would be able to talk her round, to ease her worries, to reassure her that their relationship was the real thing, that they would work out, and that he wouldn’t leave her for someone his own age. 

‘Hey, hun.’ Luke said.

‘Hi, love. Can you talk? I’m just feeling a bit down.’ Bev said.

‘Can I call you back? I’ve got to get changed for football.’ Luke said.

Bev said sure, fine, and hung up. Luke played five-aside football with the lads once or twice a week. Tears stung her eyes. She slumped back on the sofa. Maybe her friends, and everyone else, was right. Maybe the age-gap was too much. She had needed to talk to him, and yet, she was fobbed off because he was kicking a ball around with his mates. One of her friends, a guy called Gerald, was once seeing a woman ten years his junior. As his girlfriend didn’t drive, Gerald ended up ferrying her all around. It was, he admitted once their relationship had ended, really hard work. In the end, he had felt like a dad picking up his teenage daughter from a party. 

Several months later, as they were watching TV, Luke mentioned that his parents had invited them over for dinner one night the following week. Bev grabbed the remote control and switched the television set off. She sat bolt upright and turned to face him.

‘They want to meet me? What did they say?’ Bev asked.

‘My mum said this morning as she was making my packed lunch, that the thinks it’s time they met you.’ Luke shrugged.

Bev felt sick. She had met several of her boyfriends’ parents over the years, but the situation with Luke felt so very different. Maybe the age-gap would be an issue after all. If she was younger, or if he was a little older, maybe they’d stand a chance. Maybe then people would cut them some slack. She suddenly had a bad feeling about this.

Bev wondered what on earth she was getting herself involved in, as Luke showed her into the living room. Luke’s parents, a couple barely a decade older than her, got to their feet and smiled politely. What was Bev doing? She had friends a similar age to this couple. It was like someone her age dating their kids. She suddenly felt very old, and very conscious of how their relationship appeared.

‘Mum, dad, this is Bev.’ Luke said.

Luke’s father shook her hand and said that it was lovely to meet her. His mother smiled politely and gave her a feeble attempt at a hug.

As she and her parents sipped at glasses of wine, Luke swigged beer straight from the can.

‘What do you do for a living?’ his mother asked.

‘I work for a stock-brokers. I run their compliance department.’ Bev said, relieved to be discussing something she was familiar and comfortable with.

‘Fascinating. Have you been with the company a long time?’ His father asked.

‘Just over fifteen years.’ Bev said.

‘Luke will have been a child when you started there.’ His mother said, a look of disapproval on her face. 

Bev blinked away the tears, and hoped that her shock and upset did not show on her face. Luke seemed oblivious as he necked the last of his beer from the can. He waved the empty tin.

‘Can I get myself another drink, mum?’ Luke asked.

‘You can, but will you please us a glass.’ His mother said.

There was something about the exchange that was rather off-putting. The mother and son seemed to be acting as though Luke was still a child, rather than a grown-up. Luke returned a minute later with a fresh drink, this time in a pint glass.

While they were at the dinner table, dining on a recipe his mother had picked up on a recent holiday to Morocco, Luke told a funny story about one of his work-mates who had booked one city-centre Italian restaurant, while his family had arrived at a completely different restaurant, demanding they be seated. 

‘Honestly,’ Luke said. ‘the way Pete tells it is hilarious. He had us all in stitches.’

‘Don’t talk with your mouth full, please, love.’ His mother said. 

Luke nodded and made an effort to chew his food more carefully. Luke seemed like a little kid with his parents. Maybe everyone changed to suit who they were with, perhaps she was like that to a certain extent. Maybe Bev was more girly and loud with her friends, and more serious with her work-mates. But seeing Luke’s little-boy act with his mother, Bev had to admit that it had put her off him a little.

‘And have you been out with Luke and his little friends?’ His mother asked.

‘No, I’ve not met his friends yet, but I will be doing soon. Isn’t that right, love?’ Bev said.

‘Yeah, I’ll introduce to the gang.’ Luke agreed. 

Two weeks later, Bev joined Luke and his friends in a busy city-centre bar. She had never been in the place before, the music was so loud, it was best heard three streets away. The place was packed. Luke led her through the busy bar to a table. The group turned and cheered as they approached. This, she assumed, was the gang, Luke’s circle of friends. 

Bev smiled and said hello as she was introduced to them all. They all seemed to have these ridiculous nicknames. The lads had these nicknames, one was called Toastie because his last name was Warburton, like the bakers, another was called Columbo for a reason too complicated to explain. The girls in the group all had nicknames too. Even one called Rebecca, was known as Becks, as though they just couldn’t call anyone by their actual name. 

Bev nodded and grinned but she had to admit she found the whole thing like something from the school playground. Maybe that was the problem, maybe that was what was off-putting. This lot were not too long out of the playground. And when they spoke of their school days, they spoke as if it had just happened. For Bev her school days were ancient history, and barely mentioned in conversation.

Bev sipped her wine and tried to make the best of things. She tried not to be too judgemental of Luke and his friends. They were just young, that was all. They were all glued to their mobile phones taking pictures of everything, themselves, their drinks, their location, and then plastering it all over social media. They would show each other their phones, laughing at replies their posts had received. This was like a different world. And seeing Luke being so big a part of this world seemed to prove the gulf that was between them. It wasn’t that her way of doing things was better, but it just seemed to scream out that she and Luke were so very different, that he was so much younger than her. 

When Luke asked if he was having a nice time, Bev forced a smile, and said she was going to get another drink. And she also got the impression that most of her friends didn’t quite approve of their relationship either. She caught a few of them staring across at her, looks of disapproval on their faces. And she couldn’t blame them. She must look like their mothers. What was she thinking? What were they both thinking? Luke seemed to be oblivious as he laughed and joked with his friends. 

Luke joined some of his friends on the dancefloor. They were singing their heads off, knowing the words to the latest tinny pop music. A young woman squeezed up to Luke as they were dancing. Bev tried to not read anything into it. That was the way people danced these days. She overheard Luke’s friends talking next to her. One of them pointed to the dancefloor, where the girl was still dancing with Luke. 

‘She’s wasting her time, he only goes with grannies.’ 

They laughed, their nasty cackling mixing with the music. 

Bev turned to them.

‘Will you tell Luke I’ve gone home. I’m not feeling very well.’ She said. 

They simply nodded and as she turned to leave, she heard them say how it was way past her bed-time. Bev pushed and shoved her way through the crowd, desperate for fresh air. 

The next day, Luke and Bev were talking about the unpleasantness of the night before. Bev explained about the glances and the nasty comments. 

‘It just wasn’t very nice, love.’ Bev said. 

‘It’s only natural. People will feel a certain way about us being a couple, but I don’t care about any of that. I’m happy, you’re happy so stuff the lot of them.’ Luke shrugged. 

‘That’s easy for you to say. It’s me that is getting it in the neck. I’m the one they’re accusing of cradle-snatching.’ 

‘It’s just a tough time. Things will get better.’ Luke said. 

‘You know what they say, you steer the ship the best way you know. Sometimes it’s smooth sailing, sometimes you hit the rocks.’ Bev said.

‘I’ve never heard that before.’ Luke replied.

‘Uncle Junior said it the Sopranos.’ 

‘The Sopranos? I’m not into classic music.’ Luke said.

‘It’s a television show. About the Mafia. Tony Soprano?’ Bev said.

‘Never heard of it.’ Luke shrugged. 

Bev reeled as though she had been slapped.

If this had come from anyone else, she would have shrugged it off, but coming from her boyfriend, and coming right there and then, it just seemed to illustrate the difference between them. 

As she tried to sleep that evening, everything was going round and round in her head. What were they thinking, in trying to make this work? A relationship shouldn’t be this hard, should it? And maybe everybody was right. Maybe Luke would meet someone his own age, who enjoys clubbing and can keep up with him, who gets on well with his friends, who his parents approve of. And then she’ll be left alone and broken-hearted. The fact that he’d never heard of one of her favourite TV shows also seemed to speak volumes. The Sopranos had been must-watch viewing for people her age, and yet Luke hadn’t ever heard of it. That just illustrated that they were on such different pages. 

Things hadn’t really improved a few weeks later. Bev was in the office canteen making a much-needed cup of tea. As she was brewing up, it occurred to her that there was another difference between her and Luke. Luke and his friends didn’t drink tea or coffee, they only drank water from these expensive plastic water bottles. 

She took a sip of tea and sighed.

‘You can’t beat a good cup of tea.’ came a voice from beside her.

She didn’t recognise the guy making a cup of tea next to her. He was somewhere in his forties and his brown hair was showing signs of grey. 

‘Good morning.’ She said. ‘Are you new here?’

‘It’s my first day. I’m Keith. I need a brew to get through it.’ 

‘I’m Bev. Welcome to the firm.’ She said.

He took a sip of tea. Bev pointed to the mug. 

The mug said ‘I’m in Waste Management’ written in blood red lettering.

‘I love the mug.’ Bev said.

‘It’s from-’

‘The Sopranos, of course.’ Bev said.

‘You know the deal. I’m impressed.’ Keith grinned. 

That lunchtime, Bev found Keith in the canteen eating his packed lunch sandwiches. She took the seat facing him and asked how his first day was going. Keith nodded.

‘Yeah, okay I think. There is so much to take in, though.’ He said.

‘It’s mind-blowing at first, but you’ll get there.’ Bev said.

Each lunchtime that week, Bev and Keith would meet in the office canteen. They would find a free table, and discuss films and TV, and music, mostly from the 90s. While their younger colleagues on the other tables scrolled on their phones and talked about shows and bands Bev had never heard of, she and Keith were stuck in their own bubble. They talked about the Word being compulsive viewing on Friday nights when you got back from the pub, how the film Trainspotting was bleak and harrowing yet utterly gripping at the same time. 

‘Have you read the book? It’s amazing.’ Bev said.

‘I had to read the first page over ten times to understand it. But when you get your head around the language, it just blows you away.’

They discussed how Oasis were the best band of all time, and how the tickets to the reunion gigs in 2025 had been snapped up by people who weren’t even born when the band were in their prime. 

‘They should have put an age limit on the tickets. If you were born this century, then no dice.’ Keith said.

Bev burst out laughing, almost choking on her tea. 

On Friday, as they were heading back to their desks at the end of lunchtime, Keith cleared his throat.

‘I was wondering if you fancied going for a drink sometime. We could discuss the best decade in history over a few drinks.’ He said.

She nodded. She had to admit that sounded lovely.

‘Tonight?’ He suggested. ‘Only if you’re free, of course.’ 

‘I can’t make it tonight. There’s something I need to do.’ Bev said.

Tonight she would have to see Luke and have a very difficult conversation.

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom