her choppy hair. Lunch, she had imagined, would be a quick sandwich, a chat and back to work. If Jasper was talking champagne and celebrations, she might be phoning Viv and asking for the afternoon off.
10 minutes later she was on the verge of leaving her seat to see where he had gotten to when she spotted him walking back towards their table.
‘Sorry, sorry,’ he offered, slightly out of breath. ‘I couldn't find a waiter and when I did he was really keen to discuss er, vintage etc.’
‘Vintage?’
‘Yes. It turns out he knows a lot about champagne and when I mentioned this was a celebration, he insisted on going through the full list with me and making sure we had the very best glass for the occasion.’
Fliss couldn’t help but look surprised. They had been to this restaurant many times before and she couldn’t remember the waiters ever saying anything other than ‘okay’ whenever she had ordered a glass of champagne.
‘Which did you choose?’
Jasper stopped reading the menu. ‘Choose?’
‘Yes, After the recommendation, which vintage did you choose?’
‘Do you know, I can’t remember. I’ll go ask him …’
‘No! Sit down. He’ll be here shortly and we'll find out.’
Almost before Fliss had finished the sentence, a waiter appeared by their side holding a tray containing two glasses.
He didn’t have the steadiest of hands and the glasses had been placed too close to each other so they trembled and tinkled as he came to a halt.
‘Champagne?’
Jasper nodded and Fliss stared. He didn't look like a waiter with an encyclopaedic knowledge of champagne. In fact, he didn't look as though he would have an encyclopaedic knowledge of anything much. He was barely old enough to be employed, his chin was covered in painful red acne and his mouth hung open slightly, as though the task of carrying two glasses was more responsibility than he was comfortable with.
‘What is it?’ asked Fliss, willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
He stared at her blankly.
‘Which one did you choose?’ she tried again.
Another long pause as he looked down at the glasses and back at Fliss.
‘Champagne.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Fliss smiled so he didn't feel she was being a difficult customer. ‘I just wondered which one you had brought us. My husband said you know a great deal about the subject and had recommended a vintage you thought we would enjoy. I just wondered which one it was.’
In slow motion, the young waiter blinked, his head swivelling to look first at Jasper, who was sitting on the very edge of his seat with his head bowed, then back down at the glasses on his tray before returning his blank stare to Fliss.
‘It’s champagne.’
‘Yes but …’
‘Thank you,’ interrupted Jasper. ‘Thank you so much.’
The waiter carefully placed a glass in front of Fliss and one in front of Jasper before crossing his arms and staring at the centre of the table.
‘We’ll be ready to order in a minute or so.’
The waiter nodded.
‘So if you could come back?’ suggested Jasper gently.
‘You don't want to order now?’
‘No. If you could give us a few minutes?’
Nodding again, the waiter tucked his tray underneath one arm and with a shrug of his shoulders, shuffled away.
‘I thought you said he was an expert on champagne?’ asked Fliss in confusion. ‘He didn't seem to know anything about it!’
‘It wasn't him that I spoke to,’ said Jasper, gazing across the room as though searching for someone. ‘I don't know where that waiter has gone. Perhaps I’ll go find him and I can ask which …’
‘Oh, it doesn't matter. I'm sure it will be delicious.’
‘No, no, I’m going to find out. I want you to know what we are drinking for our celebration. Hold tight darling, won't be long,’ and he shot off like a hare out of a trap, covering the ground at speed and almost cannoning off the back of their young waiter who was making much slower progress.
Fliss wondered if Jasper was okay. He worked so very hard, perhaps it was starting to take its toll. Sipping at her champagne and thinking it tasted very much like every other glass of champagne she had ever ordered in this restaurant, she pondered his weird behaviour. He certainly didn't seem himself today, maybe he was anxious about the opportunities that had opened up to him lately. Leading the chat show was something he’d been thrilled about, but maybe deep down he was more anxious than he was prepared to admit. He worked such long hours, putting