‘Do you mind if we push off now? I’ve parked a bit adventurously.’
‘Sure,’ said Bella, surprised but obliging. ‘’Bye, Lotts.’
He held the door open for her and grinned at Lottie. ‘See you later.’
Which very neatly established that he would be back tonight and so would Bella.
She told him so as they went down the stairs. ‘God, you’re smooth.’
He looked down at her, one eyebrow raised. ‘That sounds as if you don’t approve.’
She shook her head. ‘Not at all. It will be a new experience.’
He was right about his parking. He was nearly blocking a garage entrance and the front wheels were definitely on a double yellow line.
‘Anti-social,’ he said ruefully. ‘But I’d been round three times and there was nowhere else. And I didn’t expect to be long. Thank you for being ready to go.’
‘You’re welcome.
The car was an unremarkable saloon. No Royal Standard, no fancy number plates, Bella was relieved to see. Richard held the door open for her and she got in. He slid into the driving seat and they were off.
He drove down to the Embankment and turned west along the river. So he wasn’t taking her into town then.
‘Where are we going?’
‘Small restaurant, run by a man I know. I hope you like it. Later you shall tell me all the things you like to eat, where you like to go, what you enjoy doing. But tonight I had to guess.’
‘Great. I love surprises.’
She was taken aback all the same. When he passed up on Mayfair, she braced herself for some Michelin-starred foodie’s paradise in a smart village. But the restaurant was in an outer suburb, in a set of arches under a railway line. It had candles set on old sherry barrels in the bar area, and red-checked tablecloths.
The greeter at the door seemed to know him. ‘Mr Clark. Table for two. This way.’
‘Mr Clark?’ said Bella, when they were seated.
He pulled a face. ‘My brother George’s idea of a joke. Kent Clark. Superman backwards.’
‘So are you always Mr Clark when you go out on the razz?’
‘Sometimes.’
The waiter brought them two menu cards and Bella saw the food was Spanish.
‘What would you like to drink? Sherry is the house speciality but you can have a cocktail or proper champagne, not just Spanish fizz, if you’d rather.’
‘My grandmother drinks sherry. I don’t think I’ve ever tried it. Deal me in.’
It was the start of a wonderful evening, low-key and very friendly. Maybe first dates didn’t have to be so fraught after all, she thought. Plate after plate of exotic tapas was put on the table, along with wonderful crusty bread. She and Richard swapped tastes and dipped their bread in the same earthenware dishes of sardines, and oil and olives, and wonderful oniony potato cakes, and, of course, paella. She got olive oil on her chin. Richard blotted it for her, and it was like a caress. The food was so delicious that when the patron chef emerged from the kitchen to tour the tables, Bella could genuinely tell him the paella was the best she’d ever tasted. He beamed.
Richard was equally pleased. ‘OK. That’s a good start. You like Spanish food. What else? Thai? Italian? Tell me.’
Bella thought about it. ‘I’m pretty much of an omnivore. I don’t like squid because of the idea of it or okra because it’s slimy. Oh, and I wouldn’t want to eat hare because they dance. But that’s about it, I think.’
He nodded gravely. ‘I’ll bear that in mind. And where are your favourite places?’
‘Depends. I like the Downs in the early morning when the sun’s coming up, you know, and the dew is sparkling on the fields. And I like ruins like Minster Lovell and Warkworth Castle.’
He stared.
‘What?’
‘Ruins.’ He shook his head.
‘What?’
His shoulders began to shake. ‘I meant,’ he said when he could speak, ‘where do you like to go for entertainment? I was thinking of where we go next. Along the lines of clubbing and so forth. Food. Dancing. Maybe ten-pin bowling at a pinch. Ruins is a new one.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Bella was rueful. ‘Well, I’ve never been much of dancer. I’ve got two left feet and I tend to flail with drink taken.’
‘I wasn’t thinking of competitive ballroom activity,’ he assured her.
‘Oh, well, in that case,’ she said, relieved, ‘I can stomp around on the dance floor like anyone else, I suppose. Before I went away, I used to go clubbing with the girls every few weeks or so.’