Picnic
Ben Chilwell
This isn’t how a ‘normal’ date works. Usually you’d spend the whole day worrying about what to wear to a restaurant that neither of you really like the food at whilst your friends are sending you a string of ‘good luck’ texts. But instead, you’re spending the morning playing princesses with your little girl whilst Ben slaves away in his kitchen trying to put things together that somewhat resemble a picnic. Not how either of you imagined your dating lives would pan out, but some things happen for a reason, and this might just be one of them.
“God, how do I cut the sandwiches?” he’s asking himself as he hovers the knife above the bread, debating whether squares are too basic or if triangles might look like he’s tried a bit too hard - something he hadn’t thought about but it’s suddenly proving to be a very difficult decision to make. And if that wasn’t challenging enough, he’s also trying to work out the right ratio of ‘child friendly’ to ‘adult’ food, not wanting it to look like he hasn’t made any effort if he comes armed with a whole bag of Babybels, DairyLea Dunkers and Mr Kiplings, but he also doesn’t want to run the risk of your little girl not liking slices of quiche, carrot sticks, hummus and some fancy crackers that he thought would add a bit of pizzazz to the picnic blanket, so he’s ensuring that whatever ‘grown up’ food he puts in the picnic basket is balanced out with something for your daughter, or you, or him, because let’s be real, children’s snacks are much better than adults’.
“What’s the man’s name?” your little girl asks as she sits on the floor in front of you, waiting for you to plait her hair. “He’s called Ben” you’re replying, your tummy going all funny at the mention of him. “Ben and mummy sounds nice” she hums, reaching forward to grab one of her My Little Ponies before bouncing it around on the floor in front of her, leaving you sat there getting all flustered at the fact that she thinks your names are compatible. “Will he be your new friend?” she’s asking a few minutes later, looking up so that she can see your reflection in the mirror before you give her an answer. “I don’t know” you laugh, desperately trying to move the conversation on to something that doesn’t fill you with butterflies because the thought of going on a date with someone so well known is one thing, but potentially ending up as his ‘friend’ and having to explain to the people around him that you’re actually a single mum who lives in a tiny two bedroom house in a slightly undesirable area of London, you don’t have sixteen designer handbags or drive a brand new Mercedes, or ever go on holiday, or have an influencer-style job like the girls before you, is another.
“How does this work?” he’s huffing as he tries to spread the picnic blanket out in the middle of the park, massively questioning his decision to spend yesterday afternoon hunting around the shops for one because this is not what he envisioned when he thought of a date in the park. One corner blowing up as soon as he holds another down, and then it’s flipping in half when he lets go, blades of grass and little smudges of mud adding a unique touch to the cream and white embroidered quilt that cost him far too much money, but it perfectly completed the Parisian vibe he was striving to achieve, although now it’s got more of a grubby homemade touch to it.
“There’s a man having a picnic” your little girl’s saying as you walk hand in hand through the park, pointing towards an elderly gentleman who’s watching the birds whilst munching his way through a packet of Werther’s. “I don’t think that’s him” you giggle nervously, swallowing the anxiety-induced lump that’s starting to form in your throat as your eyes scan across the open green space, praying that you spot the man you’ve come here looking for and he hasn’t changed his mind about going on a date with someone ‘normal’. “What about him?” she’s asking again, making your heart do a somersault when she notices somebody else sat under a tree drinking a bottle of orange juice with a little Cocker Spaniel sat by their side. “Ben doesn’t have a dog like that, darling” you’re saying, your heart rate dying down a little bit now that you know he hasn’t been spotted just yet, giving you an extra few seconds to compose yourself.
He’s doing the same as he sits awkwardly on the section of the picnic blanket that’s got a muddy hue to it. An array of food laid out around him as his eyes scan across every single person in the park, hoping that he manages to find you before you do him so that you don’t catch him off guard whilst he’s rearranging the cherry tomatoes for the fifth time or trying to make the Mini Cheddars look more presentable as they sit there in their obnoxious orange packaging amongst the rest of the fresh, unpackaged food.
And then you’re spotting him. The pace of your steps suddenly slowing down as you take a deep breath and start to approach him. “Is that Ben?” your little girl’s asking as her chubby finger points straight in his direction. “Yeah” is all you can manage to say as you frantically start trying to wipe the sweat off your palms and reduce the redness that’s heating up across your chest - an obvious indicator that you’re nervous. “Mummy he’s waving!” she squeals before excitedly jumping up and down beside you. Almost ripping your arm off in the process because you’re still insistent on holding her hand, just incase she runs over to Ben before you do and makes things awkward, especially after her track record of coming out with some highly embarrassing things when she meets your new ‘friends’.
“Hello” he mouths towards your little girl when the two of you are just metres apart, a coo of ‘hello Ben’ being returned back to him as she gives him her best smile and a little wave. And then he’s looking across at you, and god you look so beautiful. Your elegant yet casual outfit choice making his t-shirt and shorts combination look somewhat pathetic as he quickly lets his gaze drop to the five year old denim that’s resting just above his knees, kicking himself for not turning up in a three piece suit because that would have complemented your attire so much better. But he’s getting over his pang of regret when he notices how you’ve done your hair, in exactly the same style that you had it in when he came into your coffee shop one Tuesday morning and thought you looked more beautiful than ever. The little curly bits framing your face perfectly and making you look like something that’s just come and visited from heaven, prompting him to ask you out on day two-hundred-and-ninety-six that he’d come in for his cappuccino and contemplated it. And your makeup is done in the same way that it usually is, except you’re wearing a different lipgloss, one that’s more pink and summery than the classic nude you tend to go for, not even thinking that Ben would pick up on it as you sat on the floor in front of your mirror this morning and applied a thin layer, but it’s one of the first things he notices about your face, and he loves the slight change.
“Hi” you smile nervously, tightening your grip on your little girl’s hand now that she’s spotted the food laid out in the corner of the blanket. “Hi, you okay?” he’s asking, getting up off the floor and bringing you in for a hug. “Hi pretty girl, you must be Sofia” he’s saying gently, crouching down in front of her so that he looks more approachable, remembering overhearing you talking to a customer at work and saying that she was sometimes quite shy and easily intimidated. “I’m Sofia-Mae” she’s replying, no sign of any apprehension in her tone as she corrects him. “Oh sorry” he laughs nervously, an embarrassed tut leaving your mouth as your hand drops away from hers to brush a strand of hair out of her eyes. “You’re called Ben” she’s telling him, smiling when he nods his head and confirms the name she already knows. “I said that mummy and Ben sounds nice” she’s saying, looking up at you for confirmation that those words did in fact leave her mouth this morning as you stand there blushing profoundly, wishing that it wasn’t the summer holidays so that you could have dropped her off at nursery and prevented any unwanted comments slipping out of her mouth, forcing an awkward smile and quickly nodding your head to try and bring this to an end.
“Well I’m glad you think so” Ben’s smiling, clearly picking up on your embarrassment as he changes the focus to something else. “Come and sit down ladies” he’s saying, returning to his previous spot so that he can conveniently cover the mud, patting the blanket next to him. “This is very fancy” you’re saying, referring to the one-hundred-and-fifty pound blanket that you’re now lowering yourself onto, a stark comparison to your four pound, waterproof lined one from Tesco’s. “Thought it completed the look” he’s saying proudly, your eyes flicking to focus on the picnic that he’s gesturing to, all of it complementing the Parisian style perfectly, bar the Mini Cheddars that he didn’t want to take out of the packets incase they went stale. “God, look at your fancy basket as well, I didn’t expect you to do all of this” you’re saying, shocked that someone had gone to so much effort for a first date with a third wheeling three-year-old. “It’s actually my mum’s but yeah, lovely basket of mine, isn’t it?” he laughs as you look and giggle at him, poking his side gently as he throws his head back.
“I like those cakes” your little girl’s saying, interrupting yours and Ben’s moment as she runs her finger over the top of a chocolate roll. “Sofia!” you panic, pulling her hand away and quickly apologising to Ben. “What did I tell you?” you’re saying, raising your eyebrows at her until she remembers. “Don’t touch or eat anything unless Ben says I can” she’s replying quietly, her eyes going all big and guilty as she looks down at her lap. “Hmm, so do as I say please” you’re telling her, repeating another embarrassed ‘sorry’ to Ben as he shakes his head in response to you. “Don’t be silly, help yourself, darling, that’s what it’s all there for” he’s saying gently, “and you too, we can’t eat all of that on our own, can we, Sofia?” he’s saying, smiling when she shakes her head in agreement and shuffles backwards slightly so that you can reach the food too.
You’re in disbelief at how lovely everything is as you pick around the charcuterie board-style vibe that he’s gone for, adding little pieces of cheese and crackers to your paper plate alongside strawberries, grapes, a slice of quiche and a couple of tiny sausage rolls. “This is delicious, thank you” you’re telling him, a few flakes of pastry escaping your mouth and blowing into into his lap as you cover your mouth with one hand and remove the crumbs with the other. “Sorry” you’re laughing nervously, grateful for those curls around the edge of your face that are disguising your blushing cheeks. “It’s alright, sharing is caring and all that” he’s replying, making you giggle as you reach across for one of the little triangle sandwiches that barely seem to have been touched, not wanting to take something that there’s hardly any left of.
“Mummy doesn’t really like sandwiches” Sofia’s saying, Ben’s heart dropping a little bit when he realises that he didn’t even ask what foods you liked, just assuming that sandwiches were a universal picnic food and therefore everyone enjoyed them. “Oh no, it’s okay, I do sometimes” you’re reassuring him, noticing the look of regret on his face after your daughter’s words. Giving him a gentle smile before you’re taking a bite of the bread and giving it a little chew, only for an unfamiliar flavour to flood your mouth.
“Is that Marmite?” you’re asking, politely swallowing the part that you’ve already chewed, although you can feel your tummy aching as you do so. “Yeah, sorry, do you not like it?” he’s asking, kicking himself for not labelling each variety of sandwich and letting it turn into a lucky dip as to whether you pick up a cheese, ham, Marmite, peanut butter or jam one. “I do, it’s just not my favourite” you’re telling him, but truth be told, you absolutely hate it, hence why you’re putting it back on your plate and washing away the foreign flavour with some of the apple juice that he’s brought along in a fancy glass bottle. “Here, I’ll have it” Ben’s saying, taking the sandwich off your plate and scoffing it in about half a mouthful. “Weirdo” you laugh as he hums appreciatively at the filling you despise the most.
“You’re like the Tramp!” Sofia giggles, leaving both of you confused as you turn your heads to look at her. “The Tramp and the Lady!” she’s saying, clarifying your perplexity. The Lady and the Tramp, you think. “You’re eating mummy’s sandwich and the doggy ate the other doggy’s pissketti!” she laughs. Spaghetti, you think. The similarities between Ben and a feral dog making you laugh, especially when he pretends to bark and chase your little girl on his hands and knees, leaving her collapsed under a nearby tree in a fit of hysterics.
“She’s cute, isn’t she?” he’s saying as he makes his way back over to you, Sofia busying herself by picking as many daisies as she can whilst hunting for ladybugs, your eyes remaining fixated on her the whole time. “She can be” you laugh, shuffling over slightly so that he can lay down next to you. “How long has it been just you and her then?” Ben’s asking, careful how to phrase his question incase he accidentally digs too deep, but he’s desperate to find out more about the woman who knows his coffee order off by heart. “Forever,” you’re replying, “she was the size of an apple seed when her dad left me so it’s always been just the two of us, I wouldn’t want it any other way though” you’re telling him, a sympathetic look appearing on his face before you’re turning back to watch Sofia. “Look at her” you giggle, your heart doubling as you watch her in her own little world, something you do so often yet she never fails to mesmerise you with her imagination. A handful of daisies in one hand and what looks like a worm in another. “I’m cooking the worm a flower soup!” she calls across to the two of you after you’ve asked her to carefully take it back to where she found it, Ben cracking up at her very proud and matter of fact tone.
“Is she like you or are you opposites?” he’s asking, folding his arm behind his head to prop it up as he lays there looking up at you. “We’re kind of similar, sometimes she’s really shy and quiet like me, and then other times she’s just, just...Sofia” you giggle. “Sofia-Mae” he winks, correcting you for making the same mistake he happened to earlier, her sassy side putting him right back in his place. “She’s a credit to you” he’s saying, your eyes moving from your little girl back to the man that’s looking at you with a twinkle of admiration in his eye. “You think?” you’re asking, tilting your head to the side slightly as you start nervously picking blades of grass out of the ground, the small smile that’s starting to appear on his face confirming that answer way before his voice does. “Yeah” he’s nodding confidently, making your heart flutter as you look back in his direction. “Thank you” you’re whispering, his words having more of an impact than he probably realises, mainly because that’s the first time that someone’s ever said that to you and all you’ve ever wanted is to be a good mum, but also because he’s picked up on that quality less than an hour into properly spending time with you. And okay, maybe Sofia did make your parenting skills look slightly questionable when she poked her fingers all over the picnic without asking, but he’s right, she is a credit to you, and you’ve raised a little queen - a cheeky, sassy, confident one too, and one that’s everything you wish you were.
“Anyway, enough about me, tell me about you” you’re saying when you feel tears starting to prick in the corners of your eyes at the thought of your baby girl, blinking them back as you tilt your head up and then look back down to Ben. “There’s not much to say” he laughs nervously, scratching his beard as he tries to think of something to tell you. “Oh come on, you’re a flippin’ footballer! Your life can’t be all that boring!” you’re replying, leaving his mouth hanging open slightly as he tries to process what you’ve just said. “You know?” he’s asking, your eyebrows furrowing before you’re catching on to what he’s referring to. “Yeah, of course I do, people don’t get their coffee orders under four different names if they’re not trying to disguise who they really are” you tease, resting a gentle hand on his arm when he goes all blushy at his exposure. “And they certainly don’t sign autographs or take the occasional selfie on the sly” you’re adding, a groan leaving his lips as he accepts that his cover is well and truly blown.
“I promise I’m like... ‘normal’ though” he’s saying a few seconds later, “I don’t want you thinking that just because my job is what it is that I’m using you, or that I do this sort of thing with every other girl, or that I only arranged this with you so that you could fill a space or pass the time” he’s rambling, your heart aching at his honesty because clearly he doesn’t fit the ‘typical’ footballer profile, and being ‘normal’ in that industry has to be justified for the fear of being seen as ‘weird’ for wanting to keep hold of a piece of normality. “Of course not. I was a bit apprehensive incase you changed your mind about wanting to see me, I won’t lie, but that’s because I thought our worlds were so far apart that you’d be embarrassed to be seen out with a single mum from the other side of town. And I know we couldn’t be any further apart in terms of careers and dreams, and that kind of thing, but I guess as people go we’re more similar than I thought” you’re telling him, Ben nodding his head in agreement. “Please don’t feel like your job, or your income, or your house, or your background, or your family type defines you, or... or this” he’s saying, wagging his finger between the two of you and making a swarm of butterflies appear in your tummy as he does so. “I like you for you and that’s all that matters, I don’t care if you’ve served me coffee twenty-five-thousand times without me even having to ask for what I want, or if you’ve brought your little girl on our first date, that’s all just part of the amazing person that you are and I’d be proud to call you min-”.
“Mummy, I’ve got a surprise for you!” your baby girl’s calling as you give Ben an apologetic smile for Sofia doing what she does best, interrupting people during the most emotional moments. “What is it?” you’re asking, pushing yourself up into a sitting position as you watch her come running across the open green, her plaits all falling out and her knees stained with a forest-green tint. “I’ve got you a leaf!” she’s panting, her footsteps thumping along the grass as she gradually gets closer and closer to you. “A leaf?!” Ben’s repeating, the most enthusiastic tone underlying his words which makes you smile because it’s not often that your date is so genuinely happy to see your little girl, everyone else just seeing her as the factor that lets down the attractiveness of a relationship with you, a tiny innocent girl being the additional baggage that no man seems to want.
“Look, it’s like a heart!” she’s saying proudly, holding it out and showing you both as you gasp at how beautiful it is. “How clever are you for finding that?!” Ben’s asking, tickling her sides gently as she sits herself down in the gap between his legs, a protective hand falling to rest on her hip. “You can have it” she’s saying, holding it up in front of his face and offering it to him. “Are you sure?” he’s asking, his answer being confirmed by a small nod of her head as she opens up his bunched fist and forces the stalk into the palm of his hand. “Thank you, sweetheart” he smiles, eliciting the same response from her as she gives him a cheeky grin and falls against his chest, her head resting just below his heart and her chubby arms doing their best to give Ben a hug, except they’re not quite long enough so she can only manage to hold onto his sides. “Sof-” you’re starting, not wanting Ben to feel awkward over the fact that he’s got a stranger’s child clinging onto him like some sort of koala, holding your hand out to try and pull her away.
“What a lovely family picnic” she’s saying, cutting you off and almost making your heart stop as you stumble for something to say. Your whole face now turning a dark shade of magenta as you mumble a slightly inaudible ‘sorry’ to Ben, the sound of your heart thumping in your ears deafening you for a few seconds. “Baby, Ben isn’t our family” you’re saying gently, not wanting to upset Sofia and either offend him by putting him into that category, or upset him by taking him out of it, even though you both know that he’s far from ‘family’ right now. “Remember what mummy said? I’m just getting to know Ben, that’s all” you’re telling her, a look of sadness washing over her face as she looks back at you. “But this is like a family picnic” she’s replying, a small pout appearing on her lips. “I know, beautiful, but Ben isn’t our family” you’re saying again, growing increasingly embarrassed the more she tries to deny it. “But there’s a man and a lady and a girl” she’s saying, sticking her index finger out in the direction of another ‘family’ who are also utilising a rare day of sunshine. “I know, but not everyone who spends time together is part of a family” you’re telling her, hoping that she drops this fight in a minute because it’s getting more and more awkward the longer she continues to play it out.
“They could be” Ben’s saying, breaking the awkward silence that descends upon the three of you for a few seconds. “What?” you’re asking, your voice barely a whisper thanks to everything inside of you shrinking away with embarrassment after Sofia’s innocence. “They could be” he’s saying again, his eyes glued to your face, flicking over all of your features as he waits for you to link his comment to the previous one that left your mouth. “Obviously that’s not gonna happen right this second but over time it could” he’s saying, careful not to sound too pushy as he continues waiting for you to come to terms with what he’s just said. “You want to be part of our family?” you’re asking, knowing that’s exactly what he was hinting at but the shock of his words stops you from making that connection straight away.
“If that’s an offer then yeah” he’s saying gently, brushing a few strands of hair out of your face as your focus moves from Ben to your little girl, who has no idea what all of this is about as she leans over your legs to help herself to a Babybel, her way with words clearly working up an appetite. Your eyes flicking from Sofia’s face back to Ben’s, scanning over every single detail, from his gentle blue eyes that drag you further and further in each time you look at them, to his plump lips that involuntarily curl up into a small smile when your eyes brush over them, a few crumbs of the pink half of a Battenburg tucked into the corner of his mouth. God, you’re just like Sofia with your messiness, you think. At least I can blame that on you.
“Well it wasn’t but I’d like you to be” you’re saying, making him giggle with your honesty. “That’s if you’re sure you want to cose I know not everyone wants to be associated with someone like me and I’d hate for people to look at you different because I’ve already got a daugh-”.
You’re shutting up as soon as his lips hit yours. The faint almond taste from the cake that’s still lingering on his lips creeping into your mouth, a gentle hum escaping at the sweetness. Repaying him with the strawberry flavour from the blush pink lipgloss you’re wearing, a little breathy moan blowing across your mouth as the sugariness spreads across his tongue. Both flavours combining when you pull away for a second and then go back for more, your tongues brushing over each other slightly as you desperately try to take control, exchanging so many unspoken words and feelings through one simple action as you gently hold the side of his face, stopping him from ending your silent speech.
Your kiss quickly drawing to an end when a gasp escapes the mouth of the tiny person who’s just realised why it suddenly went all quiet whilst she was tucking into her little circle of cheese. A whine of ‘please no more, mummy’ leaving her mouth as you pull away from Ben and spot her face down in the picnic blanket, one hand placed over the side of her face, supposedly shielding her eyes but you can see her eyelashes poking through the gap in her fingers as she watches you, desperately trying to hide her smile at the fact that you suddenly look so happy after kissing the man that you were ‘just getting to know’.
“Was it that bad?” Ben’s laughing, tickling her sides until she rolls over onto her back. “Your lips were touching mummy’s” she giggles, still in slight disbelief at how kissing works. “And your lips have got mummy’s lipstick on now” she laughs, a shocked expression creeping onto his face as he pretends to act as though he thought that wouldn’t happen. “C’mere” you smile, wiping the remnants of the peachy gloss away with your thumb, a few sparkles still clinging to his lips but they’ll act as the perfect reminder of you when he notices them whilst he’s brushing his teeth tonight.
“Does that mean that Ben is our family now, mummy?” she’s asking, your comments five minutes prior to this not being reflected in the kiss you just shared, making her even more confused as to what constitutes to a family, considering all families seem to kiss to confirm their status. “Hopefully soon, me and mummy still need to get to know each other a bit more” Ben’s saying, jumping in before you have a chance to speak. “I’ve only spoken to mummy properly today, so although I’ve seen her hundreds of times before, it’s nice to just be a bit patient and let mummy decide when she’s ready for the next step, rather than taking it right this second and things being a bit rushed, yeah?” he’s saying, Sofia nodding her head at his words.
And god, you’d make him your boyfriend, your husband, your ride or die, right this second if you could, the sincerity and kindness behind his words melting your heart and making you desperate to give him the title to all of those things one day. But for now, you’re more than happy to just take things slow and get to know the man that you’ve served coffee to for the last however many days. And as they say, everything happens for a reason, and it just so seems that your little ‘family’ picnic might be the start of something very special.