get out of there, sit down, order a large hot chocolate and lose myself in a Pity Party for One. Storm with her stupid thundery name and her stupid red hair. Luke with his ‘I’m too busy’.
Then I had another idea and pulled out my phone, sending a casual text. I just wanted to be somewhere to forget, be with someone I could talk work with, who didn’t know my friends, who didn’t have opinions about my recent behaviour, who, I admitted begrudgingly, made me feel better about myself. Startled at the returning beep I swallowed as he named a nearby restaurant and time.
I moved down the high street, through a narrow cobbled alley leading towards a sunlit square. London was a maze of tiny areas like this that you could walk past and never stumble on if you didn’t know they were there. People were sitting on low stone walls in their coats, chatting. The air smelt of garlic and I felt a momentary thrill for being somewhere so anonymous.
Loitering nervously by the menu out front, time ticking on, I felt a creeping panic that I shouldn’t be there, that I should be heading back to find Amy, fixing things with her, speaking to Luke, but I knew this was easier: I was in a square of Autumn sunshine, about to enjoy a glass of wine with someone who wouldn’t judge me for an hour. And it was work, helpful for work, I was convincing myself as I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see a tailored grey suit, Ralph Lauren sunglasses and straight white teeth.
‘You found it.’ Toby kissed me on both cheeks and I felt myself flush. Had he always been this tall? This good-looking? I remember Amy once saying that everyone looked better in sunglasses and realised that must be it.
I also realised I hadn’t responded. ‘I did!’ I said, a little too loudly.
Toby had commandeered a passing waiter and guided me to a small table in the corner, the waiter frantically clearing and wiping at the surface before we sat down. Toby seemed to have that impact on people. He had requested the wine menu and pulled out a chair for me.
‘I’m glad you got in touch. I was about to send some work your way. A new case.’
I knew I should have asked about it – we always talked about work. Toby had sent me numerous cases and I had always been flattered that he asked for me, the clerks smirking sometimes as they handed it over. I didn’t want to talk about the case, though, not in this quiet haven, wine soon on its way and an urgent desire to remove myself from everything that reminded me of my normal life.
Without much thought I launched into new territory. ‘Did you watch the BBC documentary on last night about sea life? I never knew hermit crabs weren’t, you know, hermits. They really like company!’
If Toby was surprised he hid it well, maybe a fractional lift of one neatly clipped eyebrow but that was it. Did he think I had summoned him here to discuss the social life of crustaceans? Did he wonder why I had texted at all? I was wondering myself as I sat there, trying to think of something else to say. (How does one follow up facts about hermit crabs?)
The waiter returned and Toby ordered a bottle of Chablis and I nodded my appreciation. I knew nothing about wine. For a moment I was distracted by the memory of Luke and I on a wine-tasting event my grandparents had bought us as a Christmas present a few years ago, lots of swilling and spitting. Luke had pretended to be quite the connoisseur, but had messed up his French accent so badly and forgot to spit out most of his wine that by the end he was just a burbling wreck in a taxi muddling the words for Sancerre and Sauvignon and slipping lower and lower down the seat.
The waiter reappeared, bottle in his hand, label covered by a crisp white napkin, waiting as Toby swilled it expertly around his mouth before swallowing and motioning for him to fill my glass, the sharp coolness a relief. I closed my eyes and sat back in the chair. ‘That’s wonderful.’
‘It’s a 2014 bottle and I find the fact it is unoaked compared to other white wines in the Burgundy region appealing.’
I nodded rather than reveal my stupidity and hoped he wouldn’t