by M W Foolster
He quickly blurts out.
”No, am single, unattached, at least now I am, officially separated, most likely a divorce, in fact I am now divorced, I think. So yes I am alone and yes, please, dinner or lunch would be fantastic, yours or mine? No, that's not what I meant... Sorry... Look what's your preference , Italian, French, Indian?”
Growing angry with himself, he must sound like a complete idiot, why, oh why, does he always do this? Gets nervous, babbles. He is about to walk on when he hears,
“Jay.”
“Yes?”
Rolls her eyes skywards.
"Don't you want my phone number? We can't rely on meeting like this again, now can we?"
"No.. Yes.. I mean, sorry. I’ll call you later, today, or tonight, or tomorrow, or when would you prefer?”
Scrambles around in his pocket looking for a pen, Selena sighing impatiently before asking.
"Would it be too presumptuous of me to suggest us meeting for lunch today? Am free from 2pm onwards, shall we say 2:15pm, in Club Escargot?"
"Perfect. Brilliant. Can't wait. Yes, I will be there."
Having found a pen, he attempts to scribble down his number on an empty matchbox, only to discover the pen is out of ink. Selena checking her watch.
“Don't worry, Jay, you can give it to me later. But take this.”
She passes him a business card.
”And I will book the table, okay. And if any problems, just call me.”
He instinctively leans forward to kiss her, she turns her face and starts giggling as he plants a slobbery kiss on her cheek. Her back now turned to him, she gives him a little wave over her shoulder.
“See you at the restaurant, Jay. Don't forget, 2:15."
And she’s gone.
He stands watching her cross the road, still struggling to accept what had just happened. A beautiful and intelligent woman, admittedly one that he’d worked with several years back, but a beautiful woman wanting to go for lunch with him. But why did it have to be at Club Escargot? Of all the restaurants in the locality, why did she have to choose that one? He runs his hand through his beard. Perhaps he should call her, ask if she'd mind him choosing an alternative. Or had she specifically wanted a French restaurant. Just typical that it's the only one in the area. But not as though he'd been barred from Club Escargot, well not to his knowledge, that said he hadn't really given them an opportunity to, had paid the bill and left sharply. And maybe that snooty head waiter no longer worked there. But even if he is still an employee, it's not as though it had been his fault anyway. Well, not entirely. Jason groans aloud, his mind drifting back to that disastrous day.
10 The Christmas Meal
Jason worked tirelessly to ensure that this Christmas meal would be a success, especially with the previous year’s having proved to be so disastrous. Hours spent on the hand written invitations, all finally sent, and greeted enthusiastically by the library staff.
Borrington Library Mystery Christmas Meal
Monday 23rd December 7:30pm
Smart dress required, £10 deposit payable in advance
The new French restaurant in the London Road had caught his eye, Club Escargot, having opened early December. He'd noticed the constant stream of visitors to the restaurant, that there always appeared to be a group of people waiting outside carrying placards, and had just assumed that the flyers they'd been handing out were promotional. He'd even spotted students in the locality advertising it by wearing billboards, something about geese and stuffing, had all seemed very festive. The staff very friendly and accommodating, a table for fifteen booked despite him having left it so late, and Jason feeling very pleased with himself. Determined that everybody would thoroughly enjoy themselves after the previous year, he’d struggled in with 6 bottles of white wine, and a dozen boxes of mince pies. All of the staff had been in good spirit throughout the morning, but then the afternoon had brought with it one of the worst storms Jason had ever witnessed. Amber weather warnings issued by the Met Office as gale force winds buffeted the Capital and torrential rain bringing flooding to much of the region. Reports of trees being uprooted throughout Borrington, several cars and a van having been crushed, far too close to the library for comfort. And not surprisingly, apologetic text messages had started to arrive from staff unable to make it to the meal. Emergency broadcasts advising people to remain indoors unless travel was absolutely essential, warning of the risks from falling debris, that wind speeds were expected to increase and forecasting further flooding. In fact, it would be fair to state that the whole region had been plunged into total chaos. Well it would be, after all, it was the Christmas meal and why should this year be any different? The previous year it had been an unexpected snow storm that had created havoc.
The library had emptied relatively early, most people heeding the weather warnings and heading home. Jason, along with Jessica and Robbie, spent most of the afternoon enjoying the entertainment being provided by the resident drunks, who'd congregated under the bus shelter opposite. The three of them were well known to the library staff, having being thrown out of the library on numerous occasions. Charlie in his wheelchair, his distinctive long black beard being tossed around in the wind, as was the red Christmas hat that matched his nose in colour. They'd watched on as Charlie swigged merrily from what appeared to a bottle of brandy, yelling Happy Christmas to the imaginary passers-by. Lulu dressed in her many layers of clothing, a supermarket trolley packed full of her personal possessions safely secured to the bus shelter with some string. She appeared to be waving mistletoe, well, most likely a weed pulled from a local garden, above old Ron, constantly bending over him and planting wet, slobbery kisses down on to his bald head. Ron attempting to wave her away with one hand, the other clutching hold of a wine bottle. Jason couldn’t help but laugh as a steady procession of buses had pulled up at the stop, the drivers assuming them to be waiting would-be passengers. The bus doors opening, soon followed by the voices of agitated drivers who'd yelled at them to clear off, only to be met by a chorus of.
“We wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.”
With the wind speed having suddenly picked up, Jason started to grow concerned for Charlie's, Lulu's and Ron's safety. He'd watched the debris, including several roof tiles from the flats above the shops opposite, being blown dangerously around the high street. The nervous glances being exchanged between Jessica and Robbie had led to Jason shouting out a warning, but it was met with bottles being waved at him in celebration, and a slurred 'Merry Christmas'. A thick sheet of rain, now wind assisted, had then found its way beneath the bus shelter. That had at least stirred them into action. Charlie the first to vacate the bus shelter, having given a quick wave to his companions as he'd sped off, leaving a panicked Lulu struggling frantically with her trolley. Ron had leapt to his feet, possibly too fast because the forward momentum had led to him running smack into the bus stop, he'd paused briefly to get his bearings and had then staggered back towards Lulu. Despite being barely able to stand upright, he'd somewhat comically attempted to help her untie the string holding the trolley in place. Ron had wobbled around unsteadily as he'd fumbled with and tugged at the saturated string, taking the occasional break to gulp down some wine, but his efforts were to no avail. That was until a sudden and violent gust of wind had caught him from behind and led to him being blown head first into the shopping trolley. Despite the treacherous conditions, Jason still heard Lulu clearly as she'd yelled her displeasure. Face down, and barely visible amongst the dozens of carrier bags in the trolley, Ron had writhed and struggled to free himself, Lulu constantly walloping him across the back of his head with her weathered handbag. Robbie suggested to Jason that they should go help, but before they'd time to act, the trolley had toppled over. Ron had rolled across the rain soaked paving slabs several times before being brought to an abrupt stop by a refuse bin, his only priority appeared to be protecting the wine bottle which he'd somehow managed to keep hold of, and was waving around triumphant
ly. A wailing Lulu dropped to her knees, several pairs of soggy gloves quickly discarded, her fingers turning purple from the cold as she'd scrambled around gathering up her precious belongings.
And then came the ear splitting scream that had sent both Jason and Robbie scurrying out of the main entrance. The pair of them had stood aghast as Charlie whizzed past them in his wheelchair, travelling at a ridiculously fast speed. The wind behind him, his black beard plastered across his face, still grasping hold of the brandy bottle, shrieking “Sttttoooooooop!”
They’d watched on powerlessly as, if anything, his speed had steadily increased, wheels screeching along the pavement throwing up water spray behind them. And both of them had gasped out in horror on watching as Charlie had impacted with the large mound of soil at the end of the street, as he’d flown through the air, straight across the large hole in the road left by the workmen repairing the potholes, wheels spinning ferociously mid-air. They'd shaken their heads in disbelief as the wheelchair had somehow landed upright on the pavement opposite. But with Charlie no longer capable of controlling it and speeding along on just the one wheel, the wheelchair had veered off sharply at a right angle before disappearing into the doorway of a charity shop. Rain beating down on them, the wind buffeting them from behind, they’d arrived at the doorway a few minutes later to find Charlie laying amongst piles of black sacks, most split open, and eyeing up a thick woollen coat. As gracious as ever, he’d declined their offer of assistance and told them to "Fuck off.” Ron, having finally struggled back up on to his feet, had somehow managed to assist Lulu in righting the metal shopping trolley and refilling it with her numerous carrier bags. The pair of them had arrived shortly afterwards to find Charlie pulling on the pilfered overcoat A little squeal of delight from Lulu, her eyes having lit up at seeing the bundles of clothing donated to the charity shop. She'd probably thought that Christmas had come early.
Soaked through to the skin and feeling thoroughly miserable, Jason and Robbie had eventually squelched their way back into the library. Far from receiving any sympathy from their colleagues, they'd been met with a barrage of laughter, Jessica barely able to keep a straight face as she'd ordered them to go have a hot drink and dry off. Having trudged down to the staffroom and stripped down to their underwear, they'd sat shivering in front of a small electric fire, gulping down hot, steaming tea, waiting patiently for their clothes to dry out on the radiator. Jason growing ever more frustrated at the steady flow of apologetic texts. Mobile in hand, he'd scrolled through his contacts in search of the restaurant phone number, convinced that cancelling the meal was the sensible thing to do. That was until Jazz had come crashing into the room. In making a panicked lunge for some newspapers in order to preserve his modesty, Robbie had accidently barged into Jason, who'd then found himself sprawled out across the coffee table. And all three of them could only watch on helplessly as the mobile had flown across the room, smashed into a metal locker and dropped into a waste bin. An excited Jazz bending down to retrieve the mobile, informing them that the council had agreed to allow all of the Borrington libraries to close an hour early; followed by a cheeky wink at Jason as she’d exited the room. Robbie extremely apologetic, and Jason very understanding despite seething inside on discovering that the screen was cracked, but at least the mobile was still working.
6pm, the library finally closed, but with all six of the Saturday assistants and the four part-timers having dropped out of the meal, it only left the five full timers. After a heated debate, they’d decided not to cancel. Tammy and Jazz having had their hair done especially, Jess having bought a new dress for the occasion, Robbie had no food in and was starved, and despite his reservations, Jason had, after all, booked a room at a local hotel for the night. Besides which, it was the only date that they could all make before Christmas and they weren’t going to let a storm ruin their festivities.
A few glasses of wine each before they'd left the library, well more than a few because the pre-booked minicab was running thirty minutes late. Jessica, Tammy and Jazz had all looked stunning in their outfits, even Robbie and Jason scrubbed up well considering the day they’d had to endure. The staffroom full of laughter and friendly banter, the wine flowing freely, and all of them starting to feel very festive. Despite the disappointment of so many having dropped out, Jason had finally cheered up even if he was the brunt of most of their jokes, well not so much him as the flashing Santa tie he was wearing. Robbie had then grabbed hold of the tie and threatened to chop off Santa's head with a pair of scissors unless Jason disclosed the name of the mystery restaurant, Jazz and Tammy only too willing to assist. Fortunately for Santa, Jason had then received the phone call to inform him that the cab had finally arrived and was waiting outside. On leaving the library, they were met by a thoroughly miserable little man, frowning beneath his flat cap, tutting and shaking his head at having to squeeze four people into the back seat of his saloon car. And if anything, his mood worsened once they’d all piled in, Jessica having had a fit of the giggles at spotting that their tiny driver was perched up on a cushion probably hadn't helped matters. A quick glimpse at the displayed ID revealing to Jason that their cabbie's name was Bert Inkle. In what appeared to be a determined effort to ruin their evening, Bert the cabbie had then spent the next ten minutes of the journey ranting on about having to drive in such treacherous conditions, at having more passengers in the cab than his licence permitted, at having been delayed by a fallen tree which had led to him having to take a diversion to even reach the library, and at how he detested everything about this time of year. Having just launched into a scathing verbal attack on the youth of today, Bert had suddenly slammed on the brakes, Jason nervously glancing over his shoulder having heard gasps of shock coming from the backseat. Thumping the wheel in anger, the cabbie lowered the window, his hand clutching hold of his cap as he'd leaned out of it hurling abuse at a branch that had fallen into the road. Despite the rain still lashing it down, Robbie and Jason had leapt out of the car, five minutes spent huffing and puffing as they'd struggled to shift the branch to one side, the less than grateful Bert having remained inside the cab impatiently honking his horn at them. With the obstacle finally cleared, they'd then battled their way back through the wind and collapsed into the car, only to be informed by the miserly Bert that it would now cost them an extra £10 for him to continue to the restaurant. Not as though they'd any choice other than to agree. Fifteen minutes later the cab was parked up, albeit a good thirty feet from Club Escargot, the cabbie claiming that it was as close as he could get. Greedy fingers had snatched at the £30 in Jason's hand who, despite having paid the exorbitant fare somewhat reluctantly, was in all honesty just relieved to have escaped the cabbie's company. Having ignored Tammy and Jazz sarcastically wishing him a Merry Christmas, Bert had sat and scowled across at Jason as he'd exited the cab. He'd then turned and glared over at the remaining passengers in his back seat, that was until Robbie had caught his attention by stepping out of the cab and straight into a large puddle of water. Window down, Bert leaning out of it pointing his skinny finger towards Robbie, had muttered something about watching out for the puddle before bursting into a high pitched laugh. Robbie shaking his drenched foot vigorously, seriously tempted to remove the now saturated shoe and ram it down the cab drivers throat. But that was soon forgotten on hearing Tammy and Jazz shrieking. He'd looked across to find them both doing a Marilyn Munroe impersonation as they'd fought valiantly, if unsuccessfully, to prevent their dresses from being blown above their heads. Eyes bulging from his head and seemingly unable to tear his gaze away from their flimsy underwear, Bert had sat and ogled them for several minutes. But with Jazz and Tammy having managed to get the dresses back under control, he'd lost interest, turned on the ignition and promptly lurched forward. And straight into the rear of the car parked in front. The sound of smashing glass, Bert's headlamp. Yet again he'd leant out of the window, only this time to yell abuse at the poor girls for having distracted him. That was until Robbie
had threatened to empty the contents of a nearby rubbish bin over his head. He'd finally driven away, still shrieking obscenities at them through the open window, even having the audacity to threaten suing them for lost earnings. Jason's response was to give him the middle finger, Robbie's to shake his fist menacingly, Jessica's the most sensible in that she'd scribbled down his name, licence plate number and a brief description of what they'd witnessed. The note securely placed beneath the windscreen wiper of the damaged car, they'd then attempted to battle their way through the hurricane-like conditions to the restaurant. And despite the wind having blown them back down the road on several occasions, finally made it in through the door of Club Escargot. That's when the problems really began.
Cold, wet and all looking dishevelled, they were met at the door by quite possibly the most pompous waiter Jason had ever encountered. Having looked down his hooked nose at them in a most disapproving manner, his gaze returned to register in front of him as he'd said.
"Bonsoir, Mesdames et Messieurs.”
An exaggerated flick of his black hair, hand then covering his mouth as he'd cleared his throat, and a long pause before he'd continued.
“Comment puis-je vous aider?"
With the waiter's tone of voice anything but welcoming, and his mannerisms bordering on just being damn right rude, Jason immediately regretted having booked the restaurant. But remained calm as he'd replied.
"Yes, we have a table booked in the name of Sinclair."
A long and bony finger tapping loudly at the register as the waiter had slowly scanned the page in front of him.
"Vous êtes en retard."
"Excuse me?"
Having heard Jazz whispering to Tamera behind him that she thought the waiter had just referred to him as a retard, Jason sniggered. But perhaps too loudly. The waiter raised his eyes slowly, and gave Jason a long and filthy look before he'd eventually stated.