Don’t let me keep you . It’s a good thing I’m not into this guy. If that isn’t code for I can’t stand a moment more in your company , I don’t know what is.
“I’m sure you have dinner plans,” he adds politely.
“Yes!” I say brightly. “I do, as it happens. Absolutely. Dinner plans.” I do a pantomime sweep of my watch in front of my eyes. “Goodness, is that the time? I must run. My dinner companions will be waiting.” I resist the temptation to add, “At Lyle Place, with champagne.”
“Well, I have plans too.” He nods. “So maybe we should…”
He made dinner plans. Of course he did. He probably has a whole other, superior date lined up.
“Yes, let’s. It’s been… fun.”
We both stand up, make general parting gestures at the businesspeople, and head out of the bar onto the pavement.
“So.” Ed hesitates. “Thanks for…” He makes as though to lean in for a peck on the cheek, then clearly decides against it and holds out his hand instead. “That was great. I’ll let you know about the Business People dinner.”
His face is so easy to read it’s almost pitiful. He’s already wondering how the hell he got himself into this one-but, having invited me in front of a crowd, he can hardly back out now.
“So… I’m going this way…” he adds.
“I’m going the other way,” I respond at once. “Thanks again. Bye!” I quickly turn on my heel and start striding down the street. What a fiasco.
“Why are you going home so early?” says Sadie crossly in my ear. “You should have suggested going to a nightclub!”
“I have dinner plans, remember?” I say pointedly. “And so does he.” I stop dead on the pavement. I was in so much of a hurry to be off, I’m heading in totally the wrong direction. I turn around and look up the road, but there’s no sign of Ed. He must have legged it as quickly as I did.
I’m feeling pretty starving, and a bit sorry for myself. I should have made real dinner plans, I think as I head back up the road. I go into a Pret A Manger and start perusing the sandwich bar. I’ll get myself a wrap and a carton of soup, and a chocolate brownie, I decide. Go all out.
I’m just reaching for a smoothie when a familiar voice comes across the gentle buzz of customers.
“Pete. Hey, buddy. How’s it going?”
Sadie and I lock eyes in startled recognition.
Ed?
Instinctively I shrink back, trying to hide behind a rack of healthy crisps. My eyes scan the queues of people and land on an expensive overcoat. There he is. Buying a sandwich and talking on the phone. These are his so-called dinner plans?
“He didn’t have plans at all!” I mutter. “He lied!”
“So did you.”
“Yes, but…” I feel slightly outraged by this. I’m not sure why.
“That’s good. How’s Mom?” Ed’s voice is unmistakable over the hubbub.
I surreptitiously look around, trying to plan an escape route. But there are massive mirrors everywhere in this shop. He’s bound to spot me. I’ll have to sit it out here until he’s gone.
“Tell her I read the letter from the lawyer. I don’t think they have a case. I’ll send her an email later on tonight.” He listens for a moment. “Pete, it’s no trouble; it’ll take five minutes max…” There’s another, longer silence. “I am having a good time. It’s great. It’s…” He sighs, and when he speaks again he sounds a little weary. “C’mon. It is what it is. You know that. I had a weird evening.”
My hand tightens around my smoothie in anticipation. Is he going to talk about me?
“I just wasted too much of my life with the most obnoxious woman in the world.”
I can’t help feeling a pang of hurt. I wasn’t obnoxious! OK, so I’m dressed a bit differently-
“You may have met her. Genevieve Bailey? DFT?… No, it wasn’t a date. I was with-” He hesitates. “It was a strange situation.”
I’m so engrossed in trying to blend into the healthy-crisp stand, I’ve stopped watching Ed. But all of a sudden I’m aware that he’s made his purchase and is striding out of Pret, holding a takeaway bag. He’s heading past me. Right past me, feet away… please don’t look…
Shit .
As though he can hear my thoughts, he glances over to the right-and meets my eyes. He registers surprise but no embarrassment.
“Later, buddy,” he says, and slides his phone shut. “Hi there.”
“Oh. Hi!” I try to sound casually nonchalant, as though it was always the plan to be found lurking in Pret, clutching a wrap and a smoothie. “Fancy… um… seeing you here. My dinner plans… fell through.” I clear my throat. “At the last minute. My friends called and canceled, so I thought I’d grab a bite to eat… The wraps are great here…”
Somehow I force myself to stop babbling. Why should I be embarrassed, anyway? Why isn’t he embarrassed? He’s been caught out as much as I have.
“So, I thought you had dinner arrangements,” I say lightly, raising my eyebrows. “What happened to your plan? Was it canceled too? Or is it such a fancy dinner you’re worried you won’t get fed properly?” I glance at his takeaway bag with a little laugh, waiting for him to look discomfited.
He doesn’t even flicker. “This was my plan. Buy some food and get some work done. I have to fly to Amsterdam first thing tomorrow for a conference. I’m giving a paper.”