by Talli Roland
This time it would work, and in ten months or so, she’d be holding her child in her arms.
That was all that mattered.
Anna dashed home from the bookshop, quivering with excitement. Happy anniversary, happy anniversary . . . the refrain rang through her mind as she rushed up the steps of the house. The timing was perfect: she’d worked until five, giving her time to relax and freshen up before Michael came back and whisked her off to whatever he’d planned. Luckily, their anniversary fell on a Friday, so he didn’t even have to worry about an early start the next day.
She couldn’t wait to see what her husband had up his sleeve! Just to be sure he remembered the date—although she knew he would—she’d mentioned several times their anniversary was approaching, making a point to say she hadn’t planned anything this year. He’d nodded and turned back to his video games, but she was sure he’d taken it in.
So what would he have organised, Anna wondered as she unlocked the front door and slipped inside the silent house? A romantic dinner at that cosy restaurant in Soho he knew she liked? Maybe a night at the theatre? Actually, it really didn’t matter what he’d planned. She’d be happy with a meal at the neighbourhood gastropub, then a little lovemaking. She hurried upstairs to the bedroom as desire rushed through her. This time, she’d make extra-certain Michael stayed awake.
Right, what to wear? Sighing, she examined her wardrobe: all blacks and greys, serviceable clothing for crawling around floors at the bookshop or at home. Surely she must have one special outfit! A flash of jade green caught her eye, and Anna pawed through the garments at the back of the wardrobe. She grabbed a corner of fabric and pulled, revealing a dress she’d bought to wear on honeymoon.
As she touched the silky material, memories slid into her mind. She and Michael, at that tiny restaurant on the lake during their honeymoon, listening to the hush of waves breaking on the pebbly shore. The wind had whipped around them, and the night sky was carpeted with pinpricks of light. The dress had rippled in the breeze, and Michael had reached out and touched her arm, sending shivers through her. His eyes had been so intense, and—just like in the movies—they’d asked for the bill and gone up to their room, where they’d made love. She’d felt like the luckiest woman in the world, vowing then and there she’d never let anything split them apart.
It seemed fitting she wear this dress tonight, she thought, pulling the garment from the hanger and holding it against her body. It might be a little tighter than when she’d worn it all those years ago—and the weather a little chillier—but she could wear a wrap. She couldn’t wait to see Michael’s eyes when he saw her in it again.
Excitedly, she showered, blow-dried her hair straight, then shimmied into the dress, easing the fabric over her hips. Fastening the diamond earrings Michael had bought her for their first anniversary, she carefully did her make-up then glanced at her reflection. Pretty good, if she did say so herself.
The door clicked closed and Anna pivoted towards it. He was home! Heart beating fast with anticipation, she eased down the staircase, taking care not to trip on the hem of the dress. Maybe he’d even have flowers, she thought, before telling herself not to get too worked up. Michael had never been much of a flower man, and that was fine. It was enough that he arranged the evening for them.
‘Wow!’ Michael’s eyes widened when he saw her. ‘You look fantastic.’
‘Why, thank you.’ Anna glowed as she spun in front of him. That look in his eyes was reward enough for freezing her arse off.
‘So, where are you going, then? Got a hot date?’ Michael took off his jacket, rubbing his chin. ‘I’m exhausted. Long day.’
Anna blinked. He must be joking. ‘A very hot date,’ she said, smiling as she wrapped her arms around him.
‘Oh, really?’ Michael padded over to the kitchen. ‘Should I be jealous?’ he called over his shoulder. She heard him open the fridge. ‘Sweetie, where’s that leftover hummus? I could really use a snack before dinner.’
She shook her head, hoping the movement could bring clarity. He must have remembered this was their anniversary. For goodness’ sake, she’d given him enough reminders! If this was a joke, he was starting to take it a little far.
Anna stepped into the kitchen. Michael had his head stuck in the fridge and was rummaging through the jars like a bear in a compost heap. ‘If you’re heading out, what’s the plan for dinner? And where are you going, anyway?’
His words made her freeze with the knowledge that he had forgotten what tonight was—despite her carefully placed reminders. Even if he hadn’t planned anything, she’d never thought he’d actually forget.
Anger swirled inside as she watched her husband dip a finger into the hummus and bring it to his mouth. Suddenly, she felt the urge to get away—away from the house, away from the dreaded task of cooking dinner, away from him. It didn’t matter that she had no plans and was dressed for the opera. She needed to leave.
Without answering his questions, Anna grabbed her handbag, threw her trusty old black coat over her shoulders, shoved her feet into serviceable flats, and pushed out into the cold night air. Smog made halos in the streetlights as she scurried down the empty street, tears stinging her eyes. So much for showing he cared, she thought. Michael probably wouldn’t even notice she was gone until his stomach started rumbling.
It hadn’t always been this way, had it?
She cast her mind back through the years, but all she could see were images of herself doing things for him, day after day after day. But she’d wanted to live that way, and it had never bothered her in the slightest . . . until now.
The bright lights of the little café on the corner beckoned, and Anna swung open the door. Inside, the warm air was scented with tomato and garlic, and narrow tables packed the dimly lit space. Anna sank into one of them, easing off her coat and thanking God the restaurant was empty. She felt ridiculous in this dress now.
‘Good evening.’ A dark man about her age with an accent appeared, setting a laminated menu before her on the table. ‘I am Christos and I’ll be serving you tonight. What would you like to drink?’
‘Something strong.’ She usually didn’t like anything more potent than wine, but tonight definitely called for it.
Christos’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. ‘I have just the thing. One moment, please.’ He scurried away, returning with a small glass of clear liquid. The distinct smell of anise rose into Anna’s nostrils.
‘What is it?’ she asked, tipping her head up to meet his eyes.
‘It is called ouzo. We have an old Greek saying: ouzo makes the spirit.’ He paused, scanning her face. ‘You look like you could use a bit of that tonight.’
‘Could I ever,’ Anna said fervently, drawing the glass towards her.
‘Would you like me to add a little water to dilute it for you?’ he asked before she could lift it to her lips. ‘It’s what we do in Greece.’
Anna shook her head. ‘No.’ She touched the glass to her mouth and took a sip of the liquid, feeling it burn down her throat and into her stomach. Wow. But once the burning had passed, a pleasantly warm sensation lingered. She smiled up at the waiter. ‘It’s delicious.’
‘I know.’ He nodded. ‘Go slowly, though—it can creep up on you.’
Anna took another sip. Forget creeping, she wanted to dive right in.
‘Can I get you something to eat?’
She scanned the menu. Despite the anger inside, she was a little hungry. In anticipation of a big meal out tonight, she hadn’t eaten since this morning. ‘I’ll have whatever’s being cooked right now,’ she said, sniffing the air as her stomach rumbled. ‘It smells delicious.’
‘It is delicious,’ Christos said. ‘It’s called moussaka, and it’s my mother’s recipe. She was kind enough to share it with me when I opened this restaurant.’
Anna’s eyebrows rose. She’d taken him as a waiter, n
ot the owner. ‘This is your restaurant? You do the cooking, too?’
Christos nodded. ‘And the cleaning, and the accounting, and, well, pretty much everything. We are not busy enough yet for me to hire others, as you can see.’ He grimaced as he glanced around the space.
‘I’m sure it’ll pick up,’ Anna said, wanting to reassure him despite her misgivings. It certainly didn’t seem to be flourishing, and with the recession on, it was a terrible time to open a restaurant. ‘Maybe you need to spread the word a little.’
‘Anyway.’ Christos waved a hand in the air. ‘Let me get your food, and then you must tell me what a beautiful woman like you is doing all alone in such a gorgeous dress.’
Anna flushed, covering her discomfort by taking another sip of ouzo. It slid down nicely now without the accompanying burning. When was the last time anyone had called her beautiful? She couldn’t remember, but it felt nice. And she was looking good tonight—completely wasted on her husband, she thought as another wave of anger hit.
She smiled as Christos hummed away in the kitchen, then sipped her drink again. Sneaks up on you, pah. She was more than halfway through and she felt fine. Leaning back in her chair, she glanced around the tiny dining area. The walls were painted a dark blue and tiny fairy lights were strung along the ceiling. It was kitsch, yes, but also very welcoming. And in a way, Anna felt like she’d been transported from grey London to sunny Greece. Her dark mood lifted slightly.
‘Here you are.’ Christos set a plate of moussaka in front of her, and her mouth started watering at the delicious scent.
‘Looks divine,’ she said. ‘What’s in this, exactly?’ She prodded the food with her fork.
Christos tilted his head. ‘You’ve never heard of moussaka?’
‘No. But I’ve obviously been missing out!’
‘Well . . . ’ Christos slid onto the banquette beside her, the heat from his body caressing her bare arms. He smelled of pepper and onion mixed with some kind of musky cologne. ‘This is lamb in a tomato sauce with aubergine. Have a bite and let me know what you think.’ He watched eagerly as Anna took a forkful and inserted it into her mouth as neatly as she could, feeling somewhat self-conscious under his watchful gaze.
The flavours exploded as she chewed. ‘It’s delicious,’ she said once she’d swallowed. ‘You made this?’
Christos grinned. ‘Yes. Why? Don’t think men can cook?’ he joked.
Anna almost responded that her husband certainly couldn’t before clamping her lips closed. Right now, she didn’t want to think about Michael. It seemed all she’d done for the past six years was think of him. Here, in this restaurant away from the reality of the life she’d built with her husband, she just wanted to be Anna. ‘Of course they can. It’s fantastic.’
‘Thank you.’ Christos got to his feet. ‘Let me get you more ouzo. I’ll be right back.’
Anna nodded, continuing to shovel the casserole into her mouth. The alcohol had taken the edge off her anger, and the food was making her muscles pleasantly heavy. She felt like she could melt into the banquette and stay here forever.
‘Here you go.’ Christos’s voice cut into her reverie, and she forced her eyes wide open then took another sip of the drink. God, this was really good. She’d have to get some for Mi—no! Anna pushed aside the thought, irritation swirling inside. For goodness’ sake, couldn’t she have one night without him invading her thoughts?
Christos eased onto the banquette again, so close now she could feel his leg against hers.
‘Tell me, what are you doing here alone in that gorgeous dress?’ His eyes met hers, and desire went through her. God, he was handsome. With tightly curled hair, aquiline features, and an olive complexion, he could have stepped straight off the cover of a Mills & Boon.
Anna took another sip of her drink. Yum. Why had she never tried this before? And how on earth had she never had moussaka?
‘It’s a long story,’ she said, not wanting to go into details. She wasn’t sure she could articulate it, anyway. Her lips were starting to feel numb.
‘I’ve got all night.’
Anna flushed at the words. Christos probably didn’t mean them suggestively, but she couldn’t help picturing his solid body up against hers, those dark eyes staring down. She shoved away the image, twisting her wedding band back and forth. Her fingers were swollen from the heat of the place and it cut into her skin.
‘Let’s just say I made a mistake.’ A mistake to think Michael would remember something so important. She still couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. A cold sense of dread washed over her and she shivered. What would happen to their marriage if she stopped putting everything she had into it? The question whirled through Anna’s muddled mind, and she held it there for a second.
Oh, whatever. Anna forced it from her head. Right now, she didn’t want to think of anything to do with Michael, home, or even her life. She just wanted to soak up the atmosphere in this place with a strange man who knew nothing about her and enjoy the pleasant fuzziness taking over.
Christos raised an eyebrow. ‘Very mysterious.’ He pointed to her plate. ‘Well done, you’ve finished.’
‘My compliments to the chef,’ Anna said, glancing down in surprise. She’d polished off the huge portion! At least it would soak up the drink. She took another sip. Might as well indulge a bit more, then. ‘It really was delicious.’ The words came out slurry despite her effort.
‘Let me get you some dessert. And more ouzo.’ Before Anna could protest, Christos had disappeared into the kitchen.
‘Here we are.’ He set a plate of small golden squares in front of her, and Anna squinted up at him.
‘What’s this?’
Christos’s mouth fell open. ‘Now don’t tell me you’ve never had these, either! These are baklava.’
It sounded familiar, but as Anna bit into the juicy sweetness, she knew she’d never tasted anything like it. ‘Amazing.’
‘Just like you.’ Christos settled onto the banquette and slung his arm over the back so he wasn’t quite touching her, but almost. Anna knew she should move away; Christos was pulling out the clichéd charm, and she should at least say she was married. But what was the harm?
As she devoured the baklava and sipped back the ouzo—it was disappearing at an alarming rate—Christos told her all about the small island he’d come from, and how cold and dark he’d found London when he first arrived.
‘In Greece, the whole place is full of light and colour. Everything is intense. Here, it’s like the city is on mute. The colours, the noise, the people. Very different to back home.’ He paused, turning to face her. ‘So when I saw you in your lovely dress’—he reached out and stroked the short sleeve, and the hairs on her arms stood up—‘the colour of the Greek ocean, I knew I had to do everything I could to keep you here as long as possible.’
‘You definitely did that with the ouzo,’ Anna joked, trying to inject a bit of levity into the moment. The way Christos was staring at her, she didn’t doubt the Greek people were intense. But she couldn’t say she wasn’t enjoying it. It was lovely to have someone pay attention to her for once.
Christos laughed. ‘I warned you about that! You’re doing very well, by the way. Some people would be under the table by now.’
‘I’m not sure I can stand! You might have to carry me home.’ She glanced at her watch, the numbers swimming before her eyes. She’d no idea what the hour was, but it was definitely time to get out of here. Anna fumbled in her handbag, trying to focus enough to find her debit card. ‘How much do I owe you?’
Christos was shaking his head. ‘No, no. You owe me nothing—you have given me the pleasure of spending a wonderful evening with a beautiful woman.’
Even in her drunken state, Anna knew his words were cheesy, but she still couldn’t help smiling. ‘Please. I’ve had at least half a bottle of ouzo.’
‘There
’s plenty more where that came from.’ Christos shrugged.
‘I’d better head home.’ Anna struggled to her feet, the restaurant doing a wild samba around her as she stood. Whoa.
‘I told you it creeps up on you!’ Christos grinned as he watched her sway. He stood, then took her arm to steady her. ‘Here. Just lean on me a second.’
Anna clutched his arm, inhaling air until the room finally righted itself. She turned to face him, noticing her lips were almost level with his. With Michael, she usually got a crick in her neck from looking up. ‘Thank you, and good night.’ Her voice was unsteady as her heart started to beat faster.
Christos stared into her eyes. ‘Night. Please come again. It would be lovely to see you.’
Outside, the cold air was like a slap in the face and she breathed it in, trying to clear the fog from her head. She took a few quick steps and forced herself to keep walking, afraid she’d topple over if she stopped.
Several minutes later, she unlocked her front door, listening for any sign of movement. Inside, it was still and dark—Michael must have gone to bed; no surprise there. Not wanting to disturb him, Anna kicked off her shoes, propped herself up with a cushion on the sofa, and waited for sleep to claim her from this strange, surreal night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Clare rubbed her eyes at the sound of the buzzer, then squinted at the clock on the wall. It was just past nine on a Saturday night, and she’d been drifting off to sleep to the dulcet tones of Tony Robinson and his bearded compatriots on the world’s most boring episode of Time Team.
Who on earth could that be? Maybe Ellie? She’d love to catch up with her friend; almost three weeks had passed since the baby shower. Her heart sunk as she realised ‘catching up’ would entail hearing all the latest pregnancy news—and that was the last thing she wanted to think about.
Chatting to her best friend while keeping her own condition hidden would feel wrong, but discussing what she needed to do with a woman about to give birth seemed equally wrong, too. Maybe she’d plead she still wasn’t feeling well and go back to sleep. Clare shook her head, annoyed at herself. Usually, she could tackle a problem head-on, solving it quickly. That’s what made her such a good emergency doctor—she could almost always fix the patient’s ailment, and fast.