Twenties Girl

“Ah.” I force myself to nod intelligently, and the waiter meets my eyes without a flicker. Surely they all get back into the kitchen, collapse against the walls, and start snorting with laughter: “She paid fifteen quid! For water!”

“I’d prefer Pellegrino.” Clive shrugs. He’s a guy in his forties with graying hair, froggy eyes, and a mustache, and he hasn’t smiled once since we sat down.

“A bottle of each, then?” says the waiter.

Noooo! Not two bottles of overpriced water!

“So, what would you like to eat, Clive?” I smile. “If you’re in a hurry, we could go straight to main courses…”

“I’m not in any hurry.” Clive gives me a suspicious look. “Are you?”

“Of course not!” I backtrack quickly. “No hurry at all!” I wave a generous hand. “Have whatever you’d like.”

Not the oysters, please, please, please not the oysters…

“The oysters to begin with,” he says thoughtfully. “Then I’m torn between the lobster and the porcini risotto.”

I discreetly whip my eyes down to the menu. The lobster is £90; the risotto, only £45.

“Tough choice.” I try to sound casual. “You know, risotto is always my favorite.”

There’s silence as Clive frowns at the menu again.

“I love Italian food,” I throw in with a relaxed little laugh. “And I bet the porcini are delicious. But it’s up to you, Clive!”

“If you can’t decide,” the waiter puts in helpfully, “I could bring you both the lobster and a reduced-size risotto.”

He could what? He could what? Who asked him to interfere, anyway?

“Great idea!” My voice is two notes shriller than I intended. “Two main courses! Why not?”

I feel the waiter’s sardonic eye on me and instantly know he can read my thoughts. He knows I’m skint.

“And for madam?”

“Right. Absolutely.” I run a finger down the menu with a thoughtful frown. “The truth is… I went for a big power breakfast this morning. So I’ll just have a Caesar salad, no starter.”

“One Caesar salad, no starter.” The waiter nods impassively.

“And would you like to stick to water, Clive?” I desperately try to keep any hint of hope out of my voice. “Or wine…”

Even the idea of the wine list makes my spine feel all twingey with fear.

“Let’s see the list.” Clive’s eyes light up.

“And a glass of vintage champagne to start, perhaps,” suggests the waiter, with a bland smile.

He couldn’t just suggest champagne. He had to suggest vintage champagne. This waiter is a total sadist.

“I could be persuaded!” Clive gives a sort of lugubrious chuckle, and somehow I force myself to join in.

At last the waiter departs, having poured us each a zillion-pound glass of vintage champagne. I feel a bit giddy. I’m going to be paying off this lunch for the rest of my life. But it’ll be worth it. I have to believe that.

“So!” I say brightly, raising my glass. “To the job! I’m so glad you’ve changed your mind, Clive-”

“I haven’t,” he says, swigging about half of his champagne down in one gulp.

I stare at him, u

“But I thought-”

“It’s a possibility.” He starts to break up a bread roll. “I’m not happy with my job at the moment, and I’m considering a move. But there are drawbacks to this Leonidas Sports gig too. Sell it to me.”

For a moment I’m too choked with dismay to answer. I’m spending the price of a small car on this man and he might not even be interested in the job? I take a sip of water, then look up, forcing my most professional smile. I can be Natalie. I can sell this to him.

“Clive. You’re not happy in your current post. For a man with your gifts, this is a criminal situation. Look at you! You should be in a place which will appreciate you.”

I pause, my heart thumping hard. He’s listening attentively. He hasn’t even buttered his bread roll yet. So far, so good.

“In my opinion, the job at Leonidas Sports would be the perfect career move for you. You’re a former sportsman-it’s a sporting goods company. You love to play golf-Leonidas Sports has a whole golfwear line!”

Clive raises his eyebrows. “You’ve done your research on me, at any rate.”

“I’m interested in people,” I say honestly. “And knowing your profile, it seems to me that Leonidas Sports is exactly what you need at this stage. This is a fantastic, unique opportunity to-”

“Is that man your lover?” A familiar clipped voice interrupts me, and I jump. That sounded just like-

No. Don’t be ridiculous. I take a deep breath and resume.

“As I was saying, this is a fantastic opportunity to take your career to the next level. I’m sure that we could achieve a very generous package-”

“I said, ‘Is that man your lover?’” The voice is more insistent, and before I can stop myself, I swivel my head.

No.

This can’t be happening. She’s back. It’s Sadie, perched on a nearby cheese trolley.

She’s not in the green dress anymore; she’s wearing a pale pink one with a dropped waistband and a matching coat over the top. There’s a black band around her head, and from one of her wrists dangles a little gray silk bag on a beaded chain. The other hand is resting on a glass cheese dome-apart from her fingertips, which have sunk into it. She suddenly notices and pulls them out sharply, carefully positioning them on top of the glass.

“He’s not terribly handsome, is he? I want some champagne,” she adds imperiously, her eyes lighting on my drink.

Ignore her. It’s a hallucination. It’s all in your head.

“Lara? Are you OK?”

“Sorry, Clive!” I hastily turn back. “Just got a bit distracted there. By the… cheese trolley! It all looks so delicious!”

Oh God. Clive doesn’t seem amused. I need to get things back on track, quick.

“The real question to ask yourself, Clive, is this.” I lean forward intently. “Will an opportunity like this come along again? It’s a unique chance to work with a great brand, to use all your proven talents and admired leadership skills-”

“I want some champagne!” To my horror, Sadie has materialized right in front of me. She reaches for my glass and tries to pick it up, but her hand goes through it. “Drat! I can’t pick it up!” She reaches again, and again, then glares at me crossly. “This is so irritating!”

“Stop it!” I hiss furiously.

“I’m sorry?” Clive knits his heavy brows.

“Not you, Clive! Just got something caught in my throat…” I grab my glass and take a gulp of water.

“Have you found my necklace yet?” Sadie demands accusingly.

“No!” I mutter from behind my glass. “Go away.”

“Then why are you sitting here? Why aren’t you looking for it?”

“Clive!” I desperately try to focus back on him. “I’m so sorry about that. What was I saying?”

“Admired leadership skills,” says Clive, without cracking a smile.

“That’s right! Admired leadership skills! Um… so the point is…”

“Haven’t you looked anywhere?” She thrusts her head close to mine. “Don’t you care about finding it?”

“So… what I’m trying to say is…” It’s taking every ounce of willpower to ignore Sadie and not bat her away. “In my opinion, this job is a great strategic move; it’s a perfect springboard for your future, and furthermore-”

“You’ve got to find my necklace! It’s important! It’s very, very-”

“Furthermore, I know the generous benefits package will-”

“Stop ignoring me!” Sadie’s face is practically touching mine. “Stop talking! Stop-”

“Shut up and leave me alone!”

Shit.

Did that just come out of my mouth?

From the shell-shocked way Clive’s froggy eyes have widened, I’m guessing the answer is yes. At two neighboring tables, conversations have come to a halt, and I can see our supercilious waiter pausing to watch. The buzz of clashing cutlery and conversation seems to have died away all around. Even the lobsters seem to be lined up at the edge of the tank, watching.