Part 24 (1/2)

She orders a cup of tea from a pa.s.sing waiter, ignoring his surprise at the unusual request in the bar that is famous for its singles night on this particular day of the week, then gets stuck into the novel she has been meaning to read for weeks.

*Is this seat taken?'

She isn't sure she heard properly as she looks up. Oh G.o.d. She should have got rid of the other chair. Why didn't she antic.i.p.ate this was going to happen? She hesitates, looking at the man standing by the table, not wanting to be rude; but if she says it's taken he will soon see there is no one to join her, and if she says it's free she will have to fend off yet another awful man.

He doesn't look awful. He is wearing a Barbour, and how could she not warm to a man in the coat that always reminds her of home? He is rugged, and has kind eyes. How is she supposed to be so rude as to say it's taken?

*I'm sorry?'

*Is this seat taken? May I sit here?'

*You're Englis.h.!.+'

He smiles. *So are you.'

Gabby puts her phone back in her bag. *Where are you from?'

*London.'

She looks at him. Since coming to live here she has met a lot of people who are English and say they are from London. *Where?' she used to ask excitedly, always hoping they would be from her *village'; hoping they might say Belsize Park, or Primrose Hill, or Camden Town.

Invariably they'd say, *Guildford.' She has no idea why, but it seemed everyone she met who said they came from London, ended up coming from Guildford. *Right,' she'd say, covering her disappointment. *Surrey.'

*Where in London?' she asks dubiously, awaiting the Guildford reply.

*Maida Vale.'

*No!' She is delighted. *I'm from Belsize Park!'

He grins from ear to ear before doing what all good Londoners do when far from home and connecting with someone from their village: declare their school. *City of London.'

*South Hampstead!'

*Oh my G.o.d!' He laughs. *Don't tell me a nineteen seventy-nine to eighty-six?'

*Not quite. I'd have been in the year below you.'

*I think I went out with the whole of your year.'

*Who? Who?' It is an unspoken connection, an immediate familiarity, as Gabby leans across the table towards him.

*Sarah Diamond.'

*She was in the year above me!'

*Emma Montgomery.'

*My year!'

*Daisy Luckwell.'

*My G.o.d, you were busy!'

*What can I say? I was very charming when I was at school. Didn't you know City boys?'

*Not really.' She shakes her head. *I was too busy falling in love with the boys at UCS.'

*Oh please!' He waves a hand dismissively. *How could you possibly have fallen in love with boys from that school? Maroon-and-black-striped blazers! What little taste you must have had. You should have looked further afield to us, where the real men were. We played rugby. And tennis. Very manly.'

*Oh yes. And cricket. Very manly.'

*What's the matter with cricket?' He feigns hurt. *I'll have you know I'm an excellent bowler.'

*You're certainly bowling me over,' she says, and grins, before her hands fly up to her mouth. *Oh my G.o.d. I didn't mean that. I was just making a double entendre. I didn't mean that to sound like a come-on.'

He laughs. *First of all, I'm just thrilled to hear someone p.r.o.nounce ”doobl ontond” correctly, and secondly I haven't had such a nice come-on in years. Even if it wasn't one. What are you drinking? Sorry, I can see you're drinking tea but that's completely ridiculous. You can't sit in a bar on this ghastly singles night and drink tea and think that's okay. You need something far stronger to give you the fort.i.tude to get through this evening.'

Gabby cannot stop smiling at the banter. *Why? Are you that bad?'

*Oh I'm much worse.' He grins. *Let me guess. Cosmopolitan.'

She grimaces. *Do I really strike you as a Cosmopolitan kind of girl?'

*Good point. Pint of Scrumpy?'

*If I knew you better I'd tell you where to go.'

*Vodka and tonic, lots of lime?'

*Perfect.' She watches him as he heads over to the bar, knowing this isn't going to be such a bad night after all.

*Excuse me?' She looks up into the face of a leering, perma-tanned man. *Is anyone sitting here?'

*Yes,' she says, and smiles at him. *I'm afraid there is.'

*I'm Julian.' He extends his arm over the table and they shake hands formally.

*Gabby.'

*I hate to ask the obvious question, but do you come here often? Know that if you say yes I may have to get up and leave, but no pressure.'

Gabby laughs. *I have been here before, but for dinner. This is the first time I've been to the singles scene, and it is, as you said earlier, ghastly, as I knew it would be, and the only reason I'm here is because my girlfriend has been begging me for weeks to accompany her, and in the end I ran out of excuses. I also thought: it's one night a how bad can it be?'

*Worse,' Julian says.

*Clearly.' They c.h.i.n.k gla.s.ses in a silent toast.

*So what brings you here, in your Barbour and brogues? Are you looking for a glamorous divorcee to tuck you up at night?'

His face grows serious as he studies his gla.s.s, before looking up at her again. *Actually, I'm here in much the same way you are. I'm newly separated and my mates at work have been trying to get me out for a night's drinking for weeks. I kept trying to put them off, but in the end I also ran out of excuses and thought I'd just get p.i.s.sed and get it over with.'