What should she do? She either had to stay put and hope he wouldn’t see her or get up and go straight away, before he did. But just as she had a perfect view of him now, the distance between them not more than ten or twelve feet, so he, if he raised his head, would have a perfect view of her. If she stayed put and buried her head in her book, maybe she could get away with it. If she stood up to leave, she’d be more likely to draw his attention.
For two or three minutes she watched him surreptitiously from over the top of the book, wishing her hair was down so she could let it fall across her face. Evidently he was looking seriously for something to read; he picked up a book, read the back or the inside flap or even, twice, the first page or two before putting it back and reaching for another. It was agonising – when was he going to choose something and just go, for Christ’s sake? Her stomach was aching again but this time from the sheer fear of discovery.
At last, after perhaps five or six minutes, he chose a book and took it to the counter at the opposite side of the shop. Hannah let out a long silent breath and took a large gulp of wine. The counter was right by the main doors: he’d leave without seeing her; she’d got away with it. Breathing easier but still being careful, she buried her head in the book again, glancing over just one more time to see him pocketing his change and tucking his new purchase under his arm.
A minute later, though, the light to her right was blocked and she was conscious of someone standing by her table. She looked up slowly. Charcoal suit trousers. A crisp white shirt with a fine stripe in the weave, clearly expensive.
‘Hello,’ he said. ‘I thought it was you.’
‘God, Mark – wow! Hello. Hi.’ Hannah felt the blood rush to her face.
He smiled. ‘Great minds.’ He nodded at her glass, now nearly empty. ‘I’d just come in to do the same thing.’
‘Really? Right, yes, it’s fantastic here, isn’t it? I love this place.’
‘Me, too. Any good?’ He indicated her book.
‘Well, I’ve only just started but, yes, I think so. He’s one of my favourites.’
‘I read the one that won the Booker but I’m not much of a fiction reader, I’m ashamed to say. I enjoyed that, though.’ He adjusted the position of the bag under his arm, holding it more securely, and glanced over at the counter. ‘I’m going to get a glass of wine – can I get you another?’
Hannah hesitated, mortified. He would be within his rights to be severely pissed off with her but, despite the blatancy of her lie, he didn’t appear to be bearing any kind of grudge. The least she could do was to return the civility. ‘Well, if you’re sure?’
‘Of course.’
She watched him as he waited. He looked totally relaxed, saying something to the bearded guy behind the counter that made him laugh as he filled their glasses. Mark carried them back to the table and carefully put one of them down.
‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘that’s very kind. Look, don’t feel . . . I mean, if you’ve come to get some peace, and read . . . but if you’d like to . . .’ She indicated the spare chair.
‘Only if you’re sure I’m not interrupting you?’
‘No, not at all.’ She shook her head. As he pulled out the chair, she took the opportunity to come out with it. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘I’m so sorry about this evening – it was just a mess, the whole thing. Having demanded that last-minute meeting, the client then called at lunchtime to cancel the whole thing. Apparently, the big boss’s wife developed a dental abscess all of a sudden and he wanted to stay with her in Boston.’ God, Hannah, where is this stuff coming from? Dental abscess?
‘Don’t worry about it.’ Mark waved his hand. ‘Stuff like that happens to me all the time. Sometimes I feel like it’s impossible to organise any kind of normal social life. A couple of my friends in London get really hacked off with me for being a flake.’
‘I know that feeling.’
He took a large sip. ‘So you’re not going out to Montauk this weekend? You normally do, don’t you?’
‘Normally – I love the beach – but I’ve got something on tomorrow night, so I couldn’t.’ She smiled. ‘My assistant’s in a band, he’s the drummer, and they’ve got a gig over in Williamsburg. I promised him I’d go, be a groupie for the night.’
He took another sip of wine and she noticed the way his long straight fingers curled round the delicate stem. ‘That sounds fun.’
‘Well, they’ve just formed, hence needing the support, but my sources in the office tell me they’re pretty good.’