I tried not to give it away but I felt like my whole face lifted into a smile at the ‘we’ in that sentence.
‘Right,’ he said, reaching under the table for the tray. ‘This has been splendid but I’d better get back. Various bits and pieces to read before tomorrow morning.’
‘Cool,’ I replied, wishing the afternoon hadn’t sped by so quickly. But if this was it and I never saw him again like all the others, it had been nice. Better than nice. It had been great. I hadn’t done anything embarrassing, apart from sweat continually for three hours, and all I needed to do now was get home and have a large glass of water.
‘What are you up to this evening?’ he asked.
I usually spent Sunday evenings making my flapjacks and obsessively refolding my knicker drawer. ‘Not much.’ I shrugged. ‘A book in the bath, probably. Early night.’
He slid the tray into a metal stand and we walked out silently, my heart thumping in time with our steps back down into the courtyard.
‘So,’ Rory said, stopping just before the stone arch on to Piccadilly and turning towards me. ‘How are you getting home?’
‘Walking.’
‘All the way to Kennington?’
I smiled. ‘I like walking. It’s not that far.’
‘Okey-dokes, I’m going to jump on the Tube. But that was lovely, thank you.’
‘Yeah, me too. Shit. I mean, not me too, but thank you, too. If that makes sense?’ I blushed again.
‘I know what you mean,’ Rory said, before kissing me lightly on the mouth. ‘See you soon, Florence Fairfax.’
I watched his back as he walked towards the station. If he turns round in the next six seconds, I told myself, then this is really something and he won’t disappear on me. I counted in my head, feeling a creeping sense of panic. Please could he turn? Please could he look back at me? My excitement would turn to gloom if he didn’t.
He spun when I got to four and grinned, saluting at me as he had in the door of the bookshop. I smiled back then started my walk home. It was astonishing how quickly it could happen. In the space of an afternoon, my brain had pushed out all other thoughts so now there was only room for Rory. I didn’t even notice the colour of the cars passing me.
He messaged the next morning. I realize this is pathetically keen, but I’d like to see you again soon. Are you available for dinner tomorrow?
If it had been my own funeral the following night, I would have leapt up and insisted that, actually, I was feeling much better.
I replied saying I was free and he sent another back saying could I ‘present’ myself at a restaurant in Battersea called Ratatouille at 8 p.m. He messaged like he talked, as if Mr Bingley had got hold of a mobile. It impressed me; it seemed more sophisticated than other men. On the Ambergate Road WhatsApp group that consisted of me, Ruby, Mia and Hugo, Hugo sent messages like ‘Mia, what time ru home?’ and ‘Cn sum1 buy bog roll?’ as if he couldn’t spell really quite basic words.
‘Eugene, do you mind if I take first lunch?’ I asked on Tuesday morning. ‘I’ve just got a few, er, errands.’ I’d rediscovered an old black dress from Whistles in my cupboard but it had a low-cut neckline which needed a new bra that winched everything up a couple of inches.
‘No, absolutely fine, my darling. You go,’ Eugene replied. ‘Good morning, Adrian,’ he added, as one of our regulars stepped through the door. ‘How are we today?’
‘Capital, capital,’ Adrian replied. He was a retired general who liked our history books.
‘Do you need a hand or are you happy left to it?’
‘Not to worry,’ said Adrian as he staggered towards the biographies.
‘If you don’t mind me saying,’ Eugene said, as I returned my attention to the non-fiction table in front of me, ‘you seem unusually cheerful today.’
‘That’s probably because I’ve got a date tonight.’
Eugene clapped his hands to his cheeks. ‘Sound the trumpets! How has this come about?’
‘He came in here, and we had a coffee on Sunday. And now it’s dinner tonight.’
‘Where?’
‘Ratatouille? In Battersea?’
He nodded approvingly. ‘Very good choice.’ Then he frowned at me. ‘What are you wearing?’
‘Not this, don’t worry,’ I said, brushing my hands down my navy T-shirt and sensible trousers. ‘I’ve found an old black dress.’