Chapter 2 First date
I only noticed the significance of the date when I got home. Then I thought it must have been a hoax, a first date by strangers on St Valentine's Day? Get real, she was a good looking girl and I was an ordinary bloke, so she was obviously pulling my chain. I assumed she was just having a bit of fun at my expense, and would probably tell the bride when she got back from honeymoon. She had told me that she'd book the table, so at least the hoax wouldn't cost me in my pocket. But then as the date began to loom and was only a few days away, I wondered if there was a possibility that she was genuine. If she was genuinely interested in me, and I left her hanging, my name would be mud with my old college mate and never have a chance with this dish again. And, if she was stringing me along for a joke, it would cost me nothing to come along at the right time and if she didn't show up within say 10 minutes, I would bow out and the restaurant could still cover that table without too much hassle.
When I arrived on time and spoke to the maitre d that evening, asking if there was a reservation for Lydia Davies, I got a "Certainly, sir, she is waiting for you," and there she was, looking pretty as a picture and absolutely good enough to eat.
As I said before, I have always worked with deadlines and used to being resourceful and getting things done in a timely manner. I thought a 'be my Valentine' card for a very first date would be both too tacky and embarrassing for us both, so I had a word with the studio overseer in the print room and one of the country's leading daily cartoonists knocked out a brilliant cartoon design and the print room colour printed me a "Be My Next Year's Valentine" card.
The oversized card displayed a caricature of me with heavy chains around my chest held in place by a huge padlock and throbbing heart behind all that metal, and a brilliant caricature of Lydia, her features taken from one of the wedding photos, holding a blazing acetylene torch and an open hinged welder's helmet on her head. The caption under the picture was a speech bubble from my caricature, saying, "Unlock my heart but please don't melt it!"
She laughed when she opened the envelope and saw the card, signed in signed by "an admirer who wants to get to know you better".
We found out quite quickly that we were relaxed with each other and during the evening we arranged to date, then became exclusive and after a couple of months of passionate courting we moved into my small flat together as a couple. A couple of years later we committed to each other by exchanging engagement rings, but it was another three years before we married and started looking for a family house in our home town.
We were both committed to our careers, by then I was a sub-editor as well as writing regular weekend feature articles and I knew it would be years before I became a fully-fledged editor. So, once baby Sam was about two years old, Lydia wanted to get back to work as a lawyer specialising in corporate law, so I went freelance writing and did the whole house-husband stuff besides.
Our youngest, Katie, was a 'whoops!' baby, unplanned but loved equally as much as Sam, and Lydia only had a couple of months with Katie before going back to work. As far as Katie is concerned she is Daddy's girl and I've been father and mother to her all her six years of age. Sam is easy going and resilient in his reliance on family life.
Lydia was happy about returning to work immediately after Katie, happy to get her junior partnership. More recently, Lydia doesn't appear to be happy with me anymore.
Last February we were in the middle of that lockdown and everywhere was closed, so we, no, I had Chinese takeaway delivered to our door and I left Lydia's untouched portion in the fridge when I retired to bed alone. Work, she said, the same excuse, that even then was getting old. Apparently as a lawyer specialising in mergers and acquisitions there's always a vital prospectus to prepare or fresh takeover rebuttal that needs all the legal minds in the firm to be focused on until the wee small hours several times a week.
This year I had booked the table from 1900 hrs through to closing time some weeks before and had already prepaid an estimated bill for up to four average al a carte meals and drinks with Joseph when I dropped in here weeks ago, because the one table would be used at least twice during opening hours. He protested that that was unnecessary, I was an old customer and he reminded me that Lydia had bussed tables there as a student for four years some 15 to 20 years ago, so he said that leeway between his restaurant and my family was somehow justified, but I insisted on him accepting my prepayment.
***
I was actually unused to this view of the restaurant, with my back to the wall, though I could see why it was Lydia's favoured seat. It was a good position even without the benefit of the radiator in a cold winter, I thought. You could see everyone coming into this part of the restaurant, see the bar area beyond and even the front entrance to the restaurant. All I ever saw from my usual facing seat was my dinner guest and the brick wall behind her. No wonder my wife made this table our favourite table.
The message, I remembered to look at the message that had beeped on my mobile.
'Sorry hon still @ work l8 60mins', the message said more to me than words. Even the 'l' and '8' meant two less key taps devoted to telling me she was 'late' and more of that precious time on whatever else she was doing in preference.
I smiled for only the third time of the day at the message, a smile without humour. I hadn't reminded Lydia this morning of the date and time of the meal, or even mentioned our anniversary since last year.
Now I was here, sitting like a lemon, all alone and Lydia was busy somewhere else and managing only a terse apology.
It seems, apparently, that on St Valentine's Day and on the matching occasion of our tenth wedding anniversary, she had somewhere else to be instead of with her husband.
Tin is the tenth. The gift on tin for a tenth anniversary, along with diamonds, or the colours silver or blue. That reminded me that the woman sitting alone at the table next to me wore a blue dress. I could still faintly smell her perfume, or maybe just the memory of it. It was nothing at all like any of the ones my wife had preferred down the years. Different tastes leads to different choices, I suppose.
I wondered idly if the woman in blue, temporarily sitting alone, was here celebrating a similar anniversary, on a date with her boyfriend, husband, lover, or that she simply favoured blue tonight over whatever wardrobe selection she could choose from.
I had little appetite this night, but I put my mobile phone down on the table and picked up the menu. I thought I would order a starter, if only to soak up the odd couple of sips I'd taken from the half-glass of wine that I had the waiter pour me from Lydia's favourite bottle of Chianti. It wasn't my usual tipple, but I wasn't in the mood for anything more substantial. Maybe later at home, I'd make a sandwich, and maybe have a beer. At least ordering a starter was a change from sitting here doing nothing. I was sure my wife wasn't being equally inactive.
"Looks like we've both been stood up," came the husky female voice from the table next to me, slightly louder than the background chat, so that= it invaded my cold veil of solitude like a hot knife.
I looked up and around to my left. Although the lighting was low, neither my candle or hers was yet lit, her open face, dark brown eyes and soft dark wavy hair down to her shoulders and framing her face was that of a true beauty.
"Sorry," I said, "I was miles away."
"Was that wishful thinking?" she asked softly, now that she had my attention, a small smile hovered uncertainly but invitingly on her lips, drawing me into a conversation of sorts.
"Maybe," I shrugged. I glanced momentarily at my phone and back to her again. "She's still at work … she says, running late, she says. I'm not so sure if she'll even make it tonight. Last time …" I hesitated. Too much information to a stranger, one looking forward themselves to a nice romantic dinner rather more than I was?