by Karen Clarke
‘Mr Conway hasn’t arrived, but if you’d like to follow me.’
He led me to a table set for two in the centre of the restaurant, a fat candle flickering in a jar in between the place settings. ‘This is nice,’ I said, glancing around me. ‘How come it’s so quiet?’
‘Mr Conway booked the whole restaurant for the rest of the evening,’ the waiter said, as he pulled out a high-backed chair for me to sit on. ‘You have the place to yourselves.’
Dumbfounded, I looked at him. ‘But… surely he can’t do that.’
‘If the price is right, he most certainly can,’ he said, inclining his head. I sat, feeling suddenly breathless. Adam had booked the whole restaurant, just for the two of us? I didn’t know whether to be flattered or embarrassed. It seemed so… extravagant. Romantic, though.
Piano music piped through the room, light and delicate. I flapped out my napkin and tried to look like this sort of thing happened to me all the time.
‘What can I get you to drink?’
‘I’ll, er… just some sparkling water, please,’ I said, recalling my behaviour the night before. The waiter bowed his head and, as he hurried away, my phone bleated.
Stuck in traffic, running late. Have a drink on me! X
Bugger. How late? X
Could be an hour. Sorry. Have a drink on me! X
Sighing, I smoothed a tendril of hair behind my ear and picked up the menu, but I couldn’t focus and put it down again. It felt a bit spooky being the only one there. The atmosphere was oddly flat. I glanced at the empty tables and thought they looked a bit sad. I’d have preferred the friendly hum of conversation and the musical scrape of crockery to the tinkly piano music.
The waiter came back with my water. ‘Mr Conway’s running a bit late,’ I said.
‘Ah.’ He made a sympathetic face. ‘Would you like me to fetch you something? Some olives, perhaps, or bread?’
‘Mmm… maybe some bread, please.’ Apart from the ice cream that morning, which I hadn’t finished, I’d stuck to fruit and coffee all day – partly through nerves, and partly because I wanted to save myself for the meal. ‘And some olives. Please.’ I felt awful ordering him about, even if he looked perfectly happy as he scuttled off to the kitchen. Fancy having to work tonight, just for Adam and me.
Thank god Danny wasn’t there. How mortifying, if he saw me waiting for the handsome hero to turn up, like a character in a film.
‘Are you planning to make an olive sandwich?’
I almost spat out my mouthful of sparkling water. ‘Danny!’ Heat rose and pushed to my cheeks. ‘I didn’t think you’d be here tonight.’
‘I usually work on Fridays.’ He had a bread basket in one hand, a bowl of olives in the other, and a smile plastered to his face.
‘What are you smiling at?’
‘You,’ he said. ‘You look… wow.’ He mimed eyes popping out on stalks. ‘Stunning.’
‘Oh. Thanks.’ I stroked my hair and tugged the hem of my dress over my knees, even though it was already over my knees. ‘You don’t look so bad yourself.’
I couldn’t believe I’d said it. I mean, he did look good – he particularly suited chef’s whites, which made everything about him – hair, skin, eyes – more vivid, but I’d sounded almost… flirty. I never flirted; had assumed I was physically incapable of it, like doing more than one push-up, or licking my elbow. ‘Where’s the waiter?’
‘Having a sit down, he’s been run off his feet,’ Danny quipped, placing the bread and the olives in front of me, before bowing with great solemnity. ‘I thought I’d recommend the chef’s special, but I see your paramour hasn’t arrived.’
‘He’s stuck in traffic,’ I said, thinking how lame it sounded. The opposite of romantic. ‘He won’t be long.’ I wondered whether Danny had thought about our kiss last night, or whether women threw themselves at him so often it had barely registered. Or maybe it had been really awful and he couldn’t bring himself to mention it.
‘Why are you looking at my mouth?’ he said, eyes glinting. ‘Fancy a replay of last night?’
‘Oh, shut up.’ I slumped back in my chair. ‘I thought you’d forgotten.’
‘Hardly.’ His eyes caught hold of mine. ‘I’ve wanted to kiss you since the second I saw you at Sylvia’s.’
‘Well done for holding back,’ I said, switching from flirty to outrage. He knew I was waiting for a date, and had chosen now to tell me he’d wanted to kiss me for ages? I wished my heart would stop flapping around in my chest like a startled hen. ‘You need to stop playing games with me.’
‘Me, playing games?’ He pointed to his chest with pantomime astonishment, before pulling out the chair opposite and sitting down. ‘I don’t play games. I think I made it clear from day one that I liked you.’
‘You said you were going to win me over, not that it means anything, coming from you.’
His smile lost some of its power. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You said it once before, remember, when you invited me to the school leavers’ dance?’ Why the hell had I brought that up?
Danny’s eyebrows jolted in surprise. ‘I tried to explain about that, and you told me you’d got off with someone else.’
Heat settled in my face. ‘I saw you with another girl as I was leaving.’ As soon as I’d said it, I wanted to take it back, but Danny’s gaze turned inward, as if he was trying to remember.
‘I was asking where you were, because I thought you might have already left,’ he said slowly. ‘Jennifer Hartwell stopped me on the way in. I can’t even remember now what she was talking about, but she was pretty drunk.’ That made sense. I’d seen her earlier that night with her gaggle of friends, swigging from a bottle she’d smuggled in in her bag. ‘By the time I got away from her, you must have gone. Probably to snog Lennie Jamieson.’ The warmth in my face intensified. ‘My dad hadn’t been very well,’ he went on, and my stomach clenched, remembering what his mum had told me. ‘Mum was on her way back from visiting my sister at uni and Dad wasn’t very good at being on his own, so I stayed with him until she got home.’
‘I didn’t snog Lennie Jamieson,’ I blurted. ‘I couldn’t stand him, actually.’
‘You know he’s wanted by the police now, for embezzlement?’ The corners of Danny’s mouth twitched upwards. ‘He swindled a lot of money from the company where he worked, and fled to Brazil a couple of years ago. I bumped into an old friend, who’s in the police force, and he told me all about it.’
‘Oh god.’ I laughed softly, wondering whether Meg and Tilly knew. Against her better judgement, Tilly had quite fancied Lennie. ‘Sounds like I dodged a bullet.’
‘He definitely took a wrong turn.’
A small silence fell, broken by a soft-rock ballad that had replaced the bland piano music and which made me think of Adam.
‘I’m moving back to London soon.’
‘With Mr Conway?’ Danny popped an olive into his mouth. ‘You mean, he’s succeeded where I failed in winning you over?’
‘He’s doing a pretty good job.’ I fiddled with the cutlery, swapping the knife and fork around. ‘He’s very romantic.’
‘Ah, well, if romance is what you want…’
‘Doesn’t everyone?’
He propped his elbows on the table. ‘I don’t know, I’m not everyone.’
‘You don’t seem that bothered for someone who was desperate to win me over not long ago.’ I did scratchy quote marks with my fingers.
‘If I’m really not what you want, well…’ He propped his stubbly chin on his hand and gave me a penetrating look. ‘I want you to be happy,’ he said, seriously. ‘I happen to think you deserve it. I want you to do what you feel is right for you.’ There was something about the way he said it… he sounded so genuine. As if he really did care, which was odd when I’d hardly made the best impression since crashing back into his life.
I snatched a wedge of seeded bread from the basket and took a bite, but it turned to dust in my mou
th. He was watching me too closely for comfort, and the sound of my phone ringing came as a welcome relief.
‘Cassie, I’m so sorry, but I’m not going to make it.’
‘What?’
‘The traffic’s terrible, I’ve been on the same stretch of road for nearly an hour.’
‘But I’m at the restaurant. Alone.’ I gave Danny a pointed look, but he was gnawing a crust and pretending not to listen. ‘I can wait.’
‘No, don’t,’ he said, in his quietly authoritative way. ‘I wanted it to be special, but I probably won’t make it until ten, and I’ll be tired from travelling. You deserve better than me yawning over the Bollinger.’ I heard the smile in his voice and marvelled that he didn’t seem fed up to have been in his car for most of the day, with no reward at the end of it. Maybe he just really loved his Alfa. Or, maybe in his world, this sort of thing happened a lot.
‘I can’t believe you booked the whole restaurant.’ I sensed the evening and all its possibilities sliding out of my grasp, and wanted to hold on to them for a few moments longer.
‘Stay and have something to eat, it’s all paid for,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you come down to London tomorrow, join me at the party I mentioned? I’d love you to meet my family, and Grace will be there. I can introduce you.’
‘Oh.’ Put on the spot, my mind began spinning in circles. We’d get to spend time together, I’d meet his parents (he’d already met mine) and I’d have the chance to impress Grace Dewsbury. And it wasn’t as if I had any plans for tomorrow, other than a karaoke routine at the Smugglers Inn with Meg and Tilly.
‘Sure,’ I said, though it was more of a squeak. ‘I’d love to.’
‘Great!’ Adam sounded gratifyingly pleased. ‘I’ll text you my address.’
‘Great,’ I echoed, and sat for a second when he’d hung up, staring at my phone.
‘He’s not coming,’ said Danny. It wasn’t a question.
‘No.’ I looked at him, wondering whether he’d heard Adam’s side of the conversation. ‘He’s still stuck in traffic.’
‘That’s a shame.’ Danny pushed his chair back and stood up. ‘I had a lovely menu prepared. In fact, I prepared something of everything for you to try.’
‘To try and win me over?’ It was a poor attempt at a teasing tone that fell flat.
‘Maybe. Before,’ he said. ‘When I thought I was in with a chance.’ His smile was back, but not as convincing. ‘Seems a shame to let it go to waste.’
‘I don’t really want to eat on my own.’ My wrist tingled, and once again I fought the urge to scratch. ‘I’m really sorry we’ve wasted your time, but I think I’ll just go home.’
Danny folded his arms and gave me a disarming stare. ‘Stay there,’ he said at last. ‘I’ve got an idea, if you can bear with me for half an hour.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Wait and see,’ he said, and disappeared into the kitchen.
Chapter Thirty-One
I’d finished my water and the olives, visited the loo, checked my eyeliner wings hadn’t smudged, and was trying to fashion a swan with my napkin, when there was a kerfuffle at the door and Mum and Dad came over, their faces wreathed in smiles.
My jaw dropped. ‘What are you doing here?’ I said, as the waiter shoved another table over to make more seating.
‘Danny called and said you were here on your own, and would we like to come for dinner.’ Mum bent to kiss my cheek and took off her coat, releasing a scent of ‘Evening in Paris’, before sitting beside me and smiling up at the waiter.
‘But… haven’t you eaten already?’ I said, as Dad sat opposite Mum and unwound his scarf. They’d both put on smart tops and brushed their hair, and Mum was wearing lipstick.
‘We hadn’t actually got round to eating.’ Dad tipped Mum a wink and a flush coloured her face.
‘You two are disgusting.’ Now the shock was wearing off, I realised how pleased I was to see them. I’d assumed that Danny had been planning to wheel out a series of dishes for me to sample, to impress me with, not invite my parents over for dinner. ‘You didn’t have to come.’
‘We wanted to,’ Mum said, pressing my knee.
‘We don’t see enough of you as it is, love.’ Dad leaned over and gave my hand a squeeze.
‘We’re really sorry that Adam let you down though,’ added Mum.
‘It’s fine,’ I said – and it was. Maybe I could just relax and be myself. For a while, at least. We turned as voices signalled more arrivals, and I was stunned to see Rob saunter in with Nan on one arm, and a wide-eyed brunette with a wavy bob, cupid’s bow lips, and a feline gaze on the other. I hadn’t seen Emma for ages, and was surprised to see how soft she looked. In my mind, she’d morphed into a hard-faced harridan, fuelled by the memory of how she’d ordered Rob around last Christmas, not letting him drink more than a couple of beers, and whipping away the wine bottle whenever he reached for it. Now, I understood why.
‘Look who we found,’ Rob said, leading Nan over as though she was the Queen.
‘I do like Emma’s car.’ She cast a gracious smile around. ‘It’s electric, very good for the environment.’
‘I can’t believe you’re all here,’ I said, as the waiter brought over a couple of extra chairs. Standing, I drew Nan into a hug, pleased to see she’d eschewed her bamboo robe in favour of a pleated skirt, and a sparkly, silver cardigan that complimented her coil of hair.
‘I kept a few clothes back, just in case, chérie,’ she said, seeing me looking, her face tinged pink with pleasure. She was wearing eyeshadow too.
‘Hear you got stood up,’ said Rob, flicking my bare shoulder. ‘Looks like the moths have been at your frock.’
‘No one says frock any more.’ I punched his upper arm. ‘Hi, Emma.’
‘Hi, Cassie, you look lovely.’ She gave Rob a reproving look, but her face quickly relaxed back into a friendly smile.
‘I hear congratulations are in order.’
Her hands automatically shot to her still flat stomach, and her eyes had a gleam of happiness. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘It’s due in October.’
‘Ooh, our wedding anniversary’s in October,’ Mum said, giving Emma’s fingers an excited squeeze. ‘Twenty fifth,’ she added, helpfully.
‘Maybe it’ll come on that very day and we can have a double celebration.’ Rob escorted Nan to the seat facing me, before he and Emma settled at opposite ends of the tables.
‘The Maitlands, all together under one roof.’ Dad looked round with a wide, satisfied smile. ‘And none of you are glued to your rectangular sweethearts, either.’ That’s how he referred to mobile phones.
‘I’m honoured to be included,’ said Emma, and as if the tone had been set we all beamed at each other, until the waiter cleared his throat and asked, ‘Shall I bring some champagne?’
Danny’s food was a revelation; three courses of perfection, starting with a simple but delicious leek soup that we inhaled in about three seconds. My cod with chorizo on a ‘tangle’ of pea shoots tasted as good as Danny had promised it would, and Dad was chuffed to finally be cooked a steak exactly how he liked it – ‘rare, but not still mooing’. Emma, who was vegetarian, praised the ‘heritage’ carrots; while Mum raved about her ‘melt-in-the-mouth’ scallops; and Nan, who appeared to have thrown her new environmentally friendly eating regime out of the window, declared her venison the best she’d eaten outside France, which Dad said was so long ago he was surprised she could still remember.
She tapped his arm with a spoon. ‘There are lots of things I remember about living in France,’ she said. ‘We should take a trip there one day.’ Immediately the words were out, she dropped her eyes to her plate as if she hadn’t spoken.
The air pressure around the table seemed to change, apart from where Rob was shovelling braised hare into his mouth as though a famine was forecast.
I put down my knife and fork. ‘Mum and Dad were saying they’re a bit worried about your new lifestyle,’ I said, in case t
hey’d decided that being too honest with Nan might prove cataclysmic. ‘It takes up so much of your time, they don’t see as much of you as they’d like.’
Nan put down the glass of champagne she’d been about to knock back. ‘You know I don’t want to be a burden.’ Her gaze slid to Dad. ‘I’ve put you through too much as it is, Edmund.’
‘You were never a burden,’ Dad said quietly.
She stared at him with a tremulous expression of hope that was hard to look at. ‘Really?’
He opened his mouth, closed it again, looked at Mum, then at his empty plate, and nodded. ‘Never,’ he said. ‘And I don’t like to think of you going without your comforts, Mum, especially at your age. Not that you’re past it, far from it, but we’d like you to come down to the café sometimes, or over to ours for lunch. We know you’re busy with your hobbies, and saving the planet, and we wouldn’t want to discourage you, but it would be nice to make time for each other.’
Nan’s face suffused with pleasure. ‘But you’ve already done so much for me, Edmund. You shouldn’t have to look out for me any more.’
‘I know you can take care of yourself,’ he said, looking at her sideways. ‘But you’re my mother, and I love you, and want to spend time with you while I still can.’
‘I’m not at death’s door,’ she scolded gently. ‘I’m very healthy these days, but thank you.’ Smiling with watery eyes, she rested her veiny hand on his arm, and leaned in close so their heads were almost touching. ‘La vie est une fleur,’ she said. ‘Life is a flower,’ and, for once, Dad didn’t roll his eyes. Instead, he draped his arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her hair. ‘I have something for you, Edmund.’ She tilted towards her handbag and pulled something out. It was the photo album she’d hurled across her living room and threatened to burn, looking a bit battered around the edges. ‘I thought you might like this,’ she said, briefly catching my eye as she pushed it in front of Dad. ‘There are some lovely pictures in there, of you and your papa.’
Dad’s face worked as he gazed at it for a moment – perhaps thinking about all the memories it contained – before resting a hand on Nan’s and saying in a strangled voice, ‘Thank you. I’ll have a look through it, later.’