Chapter Thirteen #2
The ladies’ is more like a palace than a loo, with spotlit mirrors, dressing tables, plushy chairs, and a woman in uniform to give you a towel. For a moment I feel a bit shy, phoning Lissy in front of her—but she must have seen it all before, mustn’t she?
“Hi,” I say as Lissy picks up. “It’s me.”
“Emma! How’s it going?”
“It’s awful.”
“What do you mean?” she says in horror. “How can it be awful? What’s happened?”
“That’s the worst thing!” I slump into a chair. “It all started off brilliantly. We were laughing and joking, and the restaurant’s amazing, and he’d ordered this special menu just for me, all full of my favorite things…”
I swallow hard. Now that I put it like that, it does all sound pretty perfect.
“It sounds wonderful!” says Lissy in astonishment. “So, how come—”
“So then he had this call on his mobile.” I grab a tissue from a tortoiseshell box and blow my nose.
“And ever since, he’s barely said a word to me!
He keeps disappearing off to take calls, and I’m left on my own, and when he comes back, the conversation’s all strained and stilted, and he’s obviously only half paying attention. ”
“Maybe he’s worried about something, but he doesn’t want to burden you with it,” says Lissy after a pause.
“That’s true,” I say slowly. “He does look pretty hassled.”
“Maybe something awful has happened, but he doesn’t want to ruin the mood. Just try talking to him.”
“OK,” I say, feeling more cheerful. “OK, I’ll try that. Thanks, Lissy.”
—
I walk back to the table, feeling slightly more positive. A waiter materializes to help me with my chair, and as I sit down I give Jack the warmest, most sympathetic look I can muster. “Jack, is everything OK?”
He frowns. “Why do you say that?”
“Well…you keep disappearing off. I just wondered if there was anything…you wanted to talk about.”
“It’s fine,” he says curtly. “Thanks.” His tone is very much “subject closed,” but I’m not going to give up that easily.
“Have you had some bad news?”
“No.”
“Is it…a business thing?” I persist. “Or…or is it some kind of personal…”
Jack looks up, a flash of anger in his face. “I said it’s nothing. Quit it.”
That puts me in my place, doesn’t it?
“Would you both care for dessert?” A waiter’s voice interrupts me, and I smile as best I can.
“Actually, I don’t think so.” I’ve had enough of this evening. I want to go home.
“Very well. Any coffee?”
“She does want dessert,” says Jack over my head.
What? What did he just say? The waiter looks at me in hesitation.
“No, I don’t!”
“Come on, Emma,” says Jack, and suddenly his warm, teasing tone is back. “You don’t have to pretend with me. You told me on the plane, this is what you always say. You say you don’t want a dessert, when really you do.”
“Well, this time I really don’t!”
“It’s specially created for you.” Jack leans forward. “H?agen-Dazs, meringue, Baileys sauce on the side…”
I feel completely patronized. How does he know what I want? Maybe I just want fruit. Maybe I want nothing. “I’m not hungry.” I push my chair back.
“Emma, I know you. You want it, really—”
“You don’t know me!” I cry angrily before I can stop myself. “Jack, you may know a whole load of random facts about me. But that doesn’t mean you know me!”
“What?”
“If you knew me, you would have realized that when I go out to dinner with someone, I like them to listen to what I’m saying. I like them to treat me with a bit of respect, and not tell them to ‘quit it’ when all they’re doing is trying to make conversation…”
Jack looks totally astonished.
“Emma, are you OK?”
“No. I’m not OK! You’ve practically ignored me all evening.”
“That’s not fair.”
“You have! You’ve been on autopilot. Ever since your mobile phone started going…”
“Look.” Jack sighs, thrusting his fingers through his hair. “A few things are going on in my life at the moment. They’re very important—”
“Fine. Well, let them go on without me.”
Tears are stinging my eyes as I stand up and reach for my bag. I so wanted this to be a perfect evening. I had such high hopes.
“That’s right! You tell him!” the woman in gold supportively calls from across the room. “You know, this girl’s got a lovely husband of her own!” she exclaims to Jack. “She doesn’t need you!”
“Thank you for dinner,” I say, gazing fixedly at the tablecloth as one of the waiters magically appears at my side with my coat.
“Emma,” says Jack, getting to his feet in disbelief. “You’re not seriously going.”
“I am.”
“Give it another chance. Please. Stay and have some coffee. I promise I’ll talk—”
“I don’t want any coffee,” I say as the waiter helps me on with my coat.
“Mint tea, then. Chocolates! I ordered you a box of Godiva truffles specially…” His tone is entreating, and just for an instant I waver. I love Godiva truffles.
No, I’ve made up my mind. “I don’t care. I’m going. Thank you very much,” I add to the waiter. “How did you know I wanted my coat?”
“We make it our business to know,” says the waiter discreetly.
“You see?” I say to Jack. “They know me.”
There’s an instant of silence.
“Fine,” says Jack at last in resignation. “Fine. Daniel will take you home. He should be waiting outside in the car—”
“I’m not going home in your car! I’ll make my own way, thanks.”
“Emma, don’t be stupid—”
“Good-bye. And thanks very much,” I add to the waiter. “You were all very attentive and nice to me.”
I hurry out of the restaurant to discover it’s started to rain. And I don’t have an umbrella.
Well, I don’t care. I stride along the streets, skidding slightly on the wet pavement, feeling raindrops mingling with tears on my face. I have no idea where I am. I don’t even know where the nearest tube is or where…
Hang on. There’s a bus stop. The Islington bus runs from here.
Well, fine. I’ll take the bus home. And then I’ll have a nice cup of hot chocolate. And maybe some ice cream in front of the telly.
It’s one of those bus shelters with a roof and little seats, and I sit down, thanking God my hair won’t get any wetter.
What happened? Did I do something wrong?
Did I break some rule I wasn’t even aware of?
One minute everything’s great. The next, it’s a disaster.
It doesn’t make any sense. My mind is running back and forth, trying to work it out, trying to pinpoint the exact moment when things started going wrong, when a big silver car purrs up at the pavement.
I don’t believe it.
“Please,” says Jack, getting out. “Let me take you home.”
“No,” I say without turning my head.
“You can’t stand here in the rain.”
“Yes, I can! Some of us live in the real world, you know.”
What does he think? That I’ll meekly say “Thank you!” and get in? That just because he’s got a fancy car he can behave how he likes?
I turn away and pretend to be studying a poster all about AIDS. The next moment Jack has arrived in the bus shelter. He sits down in the little seat next to mine, and for a while we’re both silent.
“I know I was terrible company this evening,” he says eventually. “And I’m sorry. And I’m also sorry I can’t tell you anything about it. But my life is…complicated. And some bits of it are very delicate. Do you understand?”
No, I want to say. No, I don’t understand, when I’ve told you every single, little thing about me.
“I suppose,” I say at last.
The rain is beating down even harder, thundering on the roof of the shelter and creeping into my—Jemima’s—silver sandals. God, I hope it won’t stain them.
“I’m sorry the evening was a disappointment to you,” says Jack, lifting his voice above the noise.
“It wasn’t,” I say, suddenly feeling bad. “I just…I had such high hopes! I wanted to get to know you a bit…and I wanted to have fun…and for us to laugh…and I wanted one of those pink cocktails, not champagne…”
Shit. Shit. That slipped out before I could stop it.
“But…you like champagne!” says Jack, looking stunned. “You told me. Your perfect date would start off with champagne.”
I can’t quite meet his eye. “Yes, well. I didn’t know about the pink cocktails then, did I?”
Jack throws back his head and laughs. “Fair point. Very fair point. And I didn’t even give you a choice, did I?” He shakes his head ruefully. “You were probably sitting there thinking, ‘Damn this guy. Can’t he tell I want a pink cocktail?’ ”